It started as a normal weekend at the lake — no to-do list, no worries, no problems. It ended with a freak accident where a boat propeller damaged three of my four limbs, including my left leg, which was so badly injured it had to be amputated.
Suddenly, my life had changed forever. I wasn’t sure if I would ever be happy again.
After recovering from the surgeries, my next step was to get fitted for a prosthetic leg to allow me to walk again. Before this time, my exposure to prosthetics was minimal, and usually involved images of the Olympics and those fancy running blades. Now, I was going to get up close and personal to these devices.
My Prosthetist was a hero to me (and still is). He made a custom leg for me, using artisan techniques and modern technology, that helped fit my body and my exact needs. It takes into account my height, the length of my residual limb that’s left, my level of activity, my comfort and many other factors that aim to make this metal and carbon fiber leg as much a part of me as possible. One of my first legs even had a purple Superwoman logo on it just to inspire me to keep moving forward.
Like many things we can access and even take for granted today, custom and refined prosthetic limbs didn’t just appear out of nowhere. They have a storied past and, like much of medical innovation, often advanced during times of war.
Prosthetic innovation was born out of need, following times of war
War is frequently a precursor to advancing medicine. When many bodies are injured, new solutions need to be invented more urgently. As early as the American Civil War, prosthetics reminiscent of the styles we have today began developing. Pioneering individuals like J.D. Hanger crafted his own prosthesis after being wounded as a soldier. At the time, the U.S. government was also involved in propelling modernization, as a prosthetic limb was promised to all who lost a limb in battle for the duration of their lifetime.
Fast forward to World War I (1914-1918). With the advent of machine guns and tanks, the battlefield was becoming increasingly devastating to human bodies. According to a recent article by the Wall Street Journal, “some 67,000 Germans and 41,000 Britons had to have amputations during the course of World War I, when the procedure was often the only one available to prevent death.” During this period, scientists also developed what we consider today to be essential medical treatments, such as the ability to successfully transfer and bank blood, identify and treat bacteria and properly sterilize medical instruments.
The demand for limbs skyrocketed after WWI, and the U.S. government found itself in an expensive conundrum. Although the government had promised to provide limbs for a lifetime to veterans after the Civil War, fulfilling the same promise after WWI was untenable. Just as Henry Ford was mass-producing automobiles, the U.S. government decided the best way to deal with limb loss was through the mass production of prosthetic limbs.
Initially, this idea of a “universal prosthesis” seemed genius. Manufacturers could reliably create a consistent product to fit a great need at a lower cost than custom-built prostheses. These universal prostheses were aimed at helping returning soldiers get back into the workforce. As these veterans returned to the U.S. with changed bodies — ones that did not fit into the world and the roles that they once occupied — there were proposals to help align their bodies with the work at hand. The Red Cross published a list of professions and job descriptions for careers that could be performed by “one-armed” or “one-legged” men for reduced wages, as well as training programs to become skilled laborers.
The designs of these universal prostheses also shifted with attempts to increase the employability of veterans. At first, scientists designed universal prostheses with life-like fingers. Later, rehabilitation specialists decided that giving amputees tools as prostheses could potentially open new career paths in manufacturing and skilled trades. Axis countries experimented with similar approaches. In Germany, researchers carried out extremely thorough studies on which types of pincers would be most universal for a functioning arm prosthesis. But imagine having a wrench permanently attached to your arm — not exactly an ideal solution.
Over time, prosthetics became bespoke
Despite good intentions, the reality soon became clear that universal prostheses, while economical and of consistent quality, were not going to work for a large majority of people with limb loss. Innovators at the time realized that bodies are different, injuries are different, needs are different, and our bodies and needs change over time. Ultimately, customization is what makes the prosthesis usable.
Despite the ubiquity of mass-produced prostheses after World War I, there were early pioneers in this custom prosthetic world. For instance, Anna Coleman Ladd (1878-1939), an artist turned facial-reconstruction artist, created custom painted masks for soldiers who suffered extensive facial wounds. Companies like Knit-Rite, founded in 1923 and still around today, created sleeves and cushions to put on a healing limb to allow for the swell and compression of the limb over time. Advancements in materials sciences made it easier to create flexible but strong customizable items using magnesium, acrylic and plastic laminate.
These medical advances in prosthetics throughout history have helped both veterans and civilians in the past and present. In a report on Russia’s current war in Ukraine, the Wall Street Journal found that “between 20,000 and 50,000 Ukrainians…have lost one or more limbs since the start of the war, according to previously undisclosed estimates by prosthetics firms, doctors and charities.” Children in Yemen are now living with limb loss from unexploded mines. But most people with limb loss and limb differences today are not veterans or survivors of war. People lose limbs to traumatic accidents, cancer and other diseases such as diabetes, among other causes.
I have met many amputees over the last 10 years since becoming a member of this community. I can’t imagine all of us having to use the same standard prosthetic solutions knowing how different each of our bodies are. If you think jeans that fit you just right are hard to find, imagine actually replacing your leg or your arm!
Thankfully, we’ve come a long way since World War I and custom prosthetics have become more of a reality. Although the financial burden is still a reality, charitable organizations across the United States, including one I am involved with, work to provide prosthetic limbs to the uninsured and underinsured.
In today’s world, some prostheses (like mine) feature Bluetooth-enabled devices to tweak and refine how the prosthesis works. If I wanted to, I could design a leg cover that can match my favorite sweater. Young people in North Macedonia, which endured an armed uprising just 20 years ago, are building custom-made prostheses using 3D printers. Tattoo artists create customized body art over scarred breast tissue for post-op mastectomy patients. Models with limb difference like Kelly Knox and Viktoria Modesta have access not only to couture clothing, but to customized, alternative limbs. Workshops like the Alternative Limb Project, run by Sophie de Oliveira Barata, use unconventional materials like gold leaf and lace to convey the individuality of the wearer. The innovation wheels that were started during times of war continue to turn.
My legs have taken me to the lights of Hong Kong, the top of the Empire State Building and my hometown’s annual watermelon festival. My experience, and that of countless others, demonstrates that prosthetic design has shifted from functionality to an empowering form of self-expression and innovation.
Activists in the post-World War I era challenged the narrative. Science made it possible. Individuals and organizations innovated ideas. Governments took action. We failed and failed, so each time we could come closer to success.
When people affected by limb loss have a say in how we want our bodies to look, feel and interact with the world, we can change the game. For that, I am beyond grateful.
Stay up-to-date with the politics team. Sign up for the Teen Vogue Take
