Reflective post; thoughts on the last few days.

I am thinking about leaving my agency.

Next summer I will have two years of ocean lifeguarding under my belt. I'll have survived "rookie" status (in my first two summers, really), and moved on to a somewhat different limbo-status, in which I will no longer be a new guard, but I won't be anywhere close to an old guard. It's a vague, wavering respect for experience that easily disappears when compared to an older guard. If I try for another job next summer, in a different agency, I am pretty much guaranteed a spot with fairly high pay.

Today was the first time I considered leaving my agency. I spent the past two days at a class learning to drive the trucks and quads on the beach, as well as parking trailers and driving code 3 (lights and sirens). I realized how different my agency is from all the others.

In my first post, I said my agency is male-dominated. That is a slight mis-characterization. I am the one female full-time staff member this summer. One other female works three days a week. Two more are called in only if shifts can be covered by no one else. It's a testosterone-injected environment. Essentially, it's a fraternity. I realize that I am not the typical lifeguard. I am smart. Hell, I'm pretty damn smart. I'm driven academically. I love to read, I love mental challenges. I value intelligence, wittiness, and ability to carry on intelligent conversations. I'm also driven to excel in athletic arenas. If I weren't, I would not do the job I do. I think I'm a pretty interesting person to talk to-- I'm well-read, and able to talk about almost anything in some level of depth. I'm always interested in learning new things. I'm quiet-- but I always listen. But regardless of all of this, I cannot break into the social structure of the agency. Kaitlyn, Kelli, and I will always be outsiders in some way, and this realization has been particularly heavy on me for the past few days.

As I said, I attended an inter-agency class on vehicle operations for the past two days. I made friends there. People who were easy to talk to, friendly, without being standoffish for no apparent reason. People respected me and what I had done to get where I am, without judging me for my lack of Y chromosome. No one made me feel uncomfortable for being female; they treated me like just another person, rather than some anomaly to be studied and examined, and carefully kept out of the loop.

And I finally realized who my coworkers remind me of-- frat boys, looking for their next score. Let me cut to the chase-- I try not to envy their targets because they (the targets) have something I do not. That is absolutely not what this is about; I am not being a jealous female in this case. Said targets are tall, and thin, and beautiful. But my body allows me to do things those women can only dream of, just as theirs allows them to do things unknown to me, I'm sure. My body is imperfect, but I need to respect it for its abilities. It's difficult, however, to be reminded, day after day, of how imperfect you are in the eyes of all the men around you. It's not because they're men-- it's because they're people, they are my peers at this moment, and they make me feel small. I try to remember what Eleanor Roosevelt said about people not being able to make you feel inferior without your consent, and I try to keep a good sense of humor about everything. I feel like it's a personal dig sometimes, though-- you'll never be like her, you'll never be good enough. I could weigh ninety pounds and I wouldn't be good enough... too much muscle, too bulky. And it's really hard not to take that in and internalize it, and nurse it, and let it grow. Internalizing it is bad, and I know that of all things, this is what I absolutely MUST let roll off my back like water.

So I let them stare, I watch the water while they watch the girls through the binoculars. I don't complain, and I don't make a fuss. I am, perhaps, being a bad feminist. If I were stronger, I would protest. If I were stronger, I would speak up. And I hate that I am so distraught over this. It seems an insignificant issue. I am just emotionally drained. I'm drained from having to work three times as hard as my male counterparts just to have some recognition that I am alive and breathing. I'm tired of pushing and pushing and having male peers rewarded for my work, or being ignored regardless of how hard I work. It's draining and I am tired of it.

I don't know the right thing to do in this case. If I make a fuss, I will make things worse, much worse. If I make a fuss, I will permanently be on the shit list of the people around me. But I feel that not making a fuss, or at least talking to someone about it, is weak. If I don't, I am giving in to the pressures of the people around me. Maybe they're trying to make me leave. Maybe that's just me being paranoid. It doesn't matter, because I'm fucked either way. The system is set up to screw the whistle-blower. The question is whether I have the strength to take the brunt of that on my shoulders and carry on, or whether I want to deal with the passive misogyny so prevalent in my agency.