When you press the call button on an airplane, whether for water, Wi-Fi help, or a weary stretch, it quietly connects you to a piece of Black history most travelers have never heard of.
That simple “ding” that signals a flight attendant was born from the mind of a 19th-century Black woman whose brilliance changed how the world calls for help. Her name was Miriam Benjamin, and though her invention literally flies above our heads, her story has been grounded in silence for more than a century.
In 1888, Benjamin, a schoolteacher from Washington, D.C., became only the second African American woman ever granted a U.S. patent. Her creation—the Gong and Signal Chair—was revolutionary. With the press of a button, a bell would ring and a light would glow to indicate which seat required assistance. What Benjamin envisioned was a more efficient, discreet way for people to request help without commotion—a concept so ahead of its time it would later define air travel, hospitality, and even hospital care.
The U.S. House of Representatives recognized her genius early on, installing her signaling system to alert congressional pages. But the true reach of her idea came decades later, when the aviation industry adapted her patent for use in airplanes. Every flight attendant call button, every “ding” that politely summons attention, traces back to Miriam Benjamin’s 1888 innovation.
And yet, like so many other Black inventors of her era, Benjamin’s name vanished from the textbooks. Her contribution was folded into the fabric of modern convenience without credit, without mention, without celebration.
Her story, recently revived by educators, historians, and creators online, highlights a larger truth about how the achievements of Black women have been systematically overlooked.
In a viral post titled “The Black Woman Behind Every Airplane Call Button You Touch,” social media users have been sharing Benjamin’s story, demanding she receive the recognition she deserves.
“She imagined a world where people could discreetly summon help without shouting or waving—a world we live in today,” one caption reads.
That world is now global. From restaurants to hospitals, from first-class cabins to nursing call systems, the echo of Benjamin’s invention rings on—literally.
Her patent (No. 386,289) remains a testament not just to her ingenuity, but to the enduring pattern of erasure that followed so many African American inventors of the late 1800s.
Figures like Benjamin, Sarah Boone (who improved the ironing board), and Madam C.J. Walker (the first self-made woman millionaire in America) each reshaped everyday life, but their names were often buried beneath the inventions themselves.
In an age where technology celebrates “innovation,” perhaps the most radical act is remembering.
Miriam Benjamin’s genius is still above your head every time you fly. The least the world can do is make sure her name is too.
