Queer History 104: Martha May Eliot & Ethel Collins Dunham
Two brilliant women who revolutionized medicine while sharing one bed and one beautiful life
Let me tell you about a love story so powerful it saved millions of children's lives. Martha May Eliot and Ethel Collins Dunham weren't just pioneering scientists in a time when women were told to shut up and make babies—they were soulmates who supported each other through nearly six decades of groundbreaking work, homophobia, and institutional sexism. Their love letters tell a story of passion so deep it changed the fucking course of medical history.
When I think about these two women finding each other in the early 1900s—holding hands under tables at medical conferences, stealing kisses between hospital rounds, and building a home together despite the judgment of their peers—I'm not just impressed. I'm goddamn moved to tears. This is the kind of queer history that reminds us we've always been here, always been brilliant, always been changing the world even when the world tried to erase us.
A Romance for the Ages
Martha May Eliot (first cousin to T.S. Eliot, by the way) was a romantic to her core. In 1910, she literally switched colleges to pursue a "romantic friendship" with another girl. When that relationship fizzled out, she met someone who would change her life forever—Ethel Collins Dunham.
Martha was just 19, the sheltered daughter of a minister. Ethel was 26 and worldly, having traveled extensively before deciding to pursue higher education. Despite their differences, they fell for each other hard and fast. And not in some quiet, hidden way—they lived together for the last few years of college, making no secret of their connection.
This wasn't just some college experimentation. Martha was the best student in her class and could have graduated early, but she deliberately waited an extra year so she could apply to medical schools alongside Ethel. Talk about commitment—she delayed her own career advancement for love. Who says lesbians don't U-Haul in style?
Love Through Distance
Both women dreamed of attending Johns Hopkins, but only Martha was accepted. In a move that would make romance novelists weep, she refused to go without Ethel, taking a job as one of Boston's first female doctors instead. Their sacrifice for each other didn't end there—when World War I began, Ethel was accepted to Johns Hopkins as a pediatric intern, forcing them apart.
But these brilliant women made long-distance work by immersing themselves in groundbreaking research. While apart, Martha opened a clinic for impoverished communities, charging little or nothing for her services. She became fascinated with how social and economic conditions affect public health—revolutionary thinking for that era.
Meanwhile, Ethel was busy smashing glass ceilings, becoming the first female chief resident at Yale's Department of Pediatrics before becoming an instructor at Yale School of Medicine in 1920. She dedicated herself to improving infant mortality rates and helping premature babies survive—work that would save countless lives in the decades to come.
Reunited and Thriving
The universe finally brought them back together when Martha was appointed resident physician at Yale's pediatric department. Hospital gossip flew when Martha was repeatedly caught sneaking out to sleep and eat with Ethel—a scandal in an already hostile environment for female doctors.
But these women gave zero fucks about what people thought. In 1922, they bought a house together. Martha wrote to her mother that they had chosen a two-bedroom house "so that there is always a room free for guests"—a brilliant cover that fooled absolutely no one, since they openly shared a bed.
Let's be clear: people knew they were a couple, and the good folks around them didn't care. In an era when homosexuality was pathologized and criminalized, Martha and Ethel found their community of supporters and lived their truth. Their passion for the female reproductive system had, as the document deliciously puts it, "fantastic work-life balance."
Changing the World Together
Martha's research on rickets in children led to one of the most significant public health interventions of the 20th century. She discovered that X-rays could diagnose the condition and that daily doses of cod liver oil could prevent it. Then she had a brilliant revelation—it would be easier to add vitamin D directly to milk. This single insight eradicated rickets in America and is why we have vitamin D milk today. Every time you pour yourself a glass, you're benefiting from a lesbian scientist's genius.
In the 1920s and '30s, Martha and Ethel taught at Yale while working at the Children's Bureau, a New Deal government agency. Ethel was appointed chief of child development at the bureau in 1935, establishing national care criteria for newborns. Martha served as assistant chief before taking over in 1951.
During World War II, Martha studied the effects of war trauma on children and ran an infant care program for soldiers' wives and babies. She was eventually elected as the first female president of the American Public Health Association and chaired the department of Child and Maternal Health at Harvard. Just casually, you know, shattering every glass ceiling in sight.
International Legends
These ridiculously accomplished women took their work global. Martha was the only woman to sign the founding document of the World Health Organization—let that sink in for a moment. Her signature is there alongside men who probably never imagined a woman would stand as their equal.
Ethel became the first woman to receive the John Howland Award from the American Pediatric Society in 1957. Martha won it the very next year. They weren't just pioneers; they were a power couple who dominated their field.
A Love for the Ages
The two remained a couple until Ethel passed away in 1969 at 86 years old. Martha followed about nine years later, also at 86. They shared nearly 60 years of love and "a burning passion to create a better world."
Can you imagine how fucking liberating it must have been to be a queer woman in STEM loved by another queer woman in STEM in the 1900s? No one else could have possibly understood them better. They faced the same hardships from sexism and homophobia, and together achieved an unprecedented amount of success in helping the human race.
Practical Tools for Following Their Legacy
Mentor women and LGBTQ+ people in STEM fields to continue breaking barriers
Study the intersection of socioeconomic factors and health outcomes in your community
Support affordable healthcare initiatives for underserved populations
Document the stories of LGBTQ+ pioneers in medicine and science
Build your own supportive partnership that empowers both people to achieve their dreams
Community Connection
Martha and Ethel's story reminds us that queer people have always been at the forefront of scientific advancement, even when history tried to erase our contributions. Their work on maternal and child health continues through organizations dedicated to reducing infant mortality and improving children's lives worldwide.
Their legacy lives on in every pediatric ward, in every glass of vitamin D milk, in every premature baby who survives against the odds. But perhaps most importantly, it lives on in every queer couple who supports each other's ambitions and dreams of changing the world together.
Conclusion
Martha and Ethel literally changed child and female healthcare forever. They proved that love doesn't have to be a distraction from greatness—it can be the fuel that powers it. Their relationship wasn't just a personal joy; it was a revolutionary partnership that advanced human knowledge and saved countless lives.
In a world that told them they couldn't be women in medicine, couldn't love each other, couldn't change systems that had existed for centuries—they said "watch us" and then fucking did it all. They didn't just survive; they thrived, they loved, they revolutionized.
Every queer person who's been told they can't have both love and professional success should look to Martha and Ethel. Every LGBTQ+ scientist facing discrimination should remember their names. Every woman fighting to be taken seriously in her field should draw strength from their story.
Because sometimes, the most radical act isn't just changing the world—it's loving wholly and completely while you do it.
References:
Great story, I wasn’t aware of them.
So beautiful it brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for sharing this lovely story with us, Wendy. ❤️😊