As a female bird ringing trainee I am often outnumbered by men. In fact, I frequently meet them alone in secluded locations when nobody else is around – something that might sound crazy to my non- bird ringing friends, until I explain I’m not the kind of bird they’re interested in.
I have, at times, felt aware of my gender in these moments. Not because I feel unsafe, but because of the way in which information is delivered to me. Occasionally, experienced male bird ringers deliver information to me in a way that I suspect they wouldn’t with their male colleagues. It’s subtle – an air of masculine confidence that says it’s their way and no other, a tone of presumed inaptitude – but it leaves you feeling frustrated and inadequate, desperate to prove your worth, and I am not alone in feeling this way. I can’t compare it to being taught to ring by women, because I can count these occasions on one hand (one finger, actually), but it’s the kind of microaggression that women are very familiar with, and it’s by no means limited to the ornithology community.
I struggle with a mixture of gratitude and resentment in these moments. While thankful for the opportunity, I wonder whether I should be more resistant to how it’s being offered. I worry that letting it slide says it’s okay to treat women differently, and perpetuates the divide in our society. On the other hand, I think it’s possible to be too vigilant, and end up attributing meaning where there isn’t any. Perhaps there is an element of unfamiliarity too – being unaccustomed to teaching women, and therefore not quite knowing how to approach it – which improves with repeated interaction and as mutual trust builds. My advice would simply be: teach women exactly as you would men.
In my day job as a medical doctor, I am mistaken daily for a nurse (and not just by men). While not offensive in itself, it’s a reminder of the underlying prejudice that is still pervasive in our society – despite the fact that over half of UK doctors are now women. Meanwhile, only 10% of bird ringing trainers active on the BTO’s ‘find a ringing trainer’ map are women. This feels unrepresentative of current ringing trainees, around half of which are now women, and I suppose this could be a sign that things are changing.
Yet, while loudly acknowledging the increasing number of women that are joining what has historically been a male-dominated field might be well-intentioned, it makes us feel like a novelty and subtly separates us from our male colleagues. It’s a bit like boasting about how many female friends you have – the louder the brag, the more performative it sounds. It’s fine to talk about the shift, but tone is everything: instead of framing it as a special privilege women are now being granted, acknowledge it as an overdue, and most importantly normal, correction of a historical imbalance.
All that being said, sometimes I think being a woman also benefits me in this sphere. My early experience of the community is that people (mostly men, simply because that’s usually who I’m around) are often very kind in their eagerness to give you a leg up, whether it’s inviting you to ring with them or introducing you to other contacts, and I get the sense that there’s a certain satisfaction to be gained by helping a young woman make her way in a traditionally male environment. The inner conflict strikes again: does taking these opportunities trivialise our fight?
The biggest lesson of my late twenties has been – as obvious as it might sound – that nothing is black and white. Whereas before I tried to filter the people I encountered into neat boxes, “good” or “bad” (it’s easier), now people have become annoyingly noncommittal shades of grey. I guess that’s my way of saying: I don’t really have a neat conclusion. This topic is complex and nuanced, and I’m still navigating my own thoughts and feelings on the subject as they change over time. You can feel two opposing things at once, and maybe you should – it’s more reflective of reality. Despite occasionally feeling like men approach teaching me in a way that is a little paternalistic at best and condescending on days when I am really grumpy (that’ll be the hormones, eh) I’ve had overwhelmingly positive experiences with the vast majority of people that I have encountered on my bird ringing journey so far. When someone inadvertently makes me feel small, I’m still grateful to be learning from them, and it goes the other way too: just because you are thankful for your training doesn’t mean you can’t call prejudice out when you see or experience it. I understand wanting to succeed on merit alone, but I’ve come to believe that taking advantage of every opportunity, even if being a woman played a part in landing one, doesn’t make you less of a feminist.
If you are interested in contributing to the #BOUdiversityBlog, please get in touch with us via this form which ensures anonymity for those who seek it.
Image credit: CCO PD pixabay.com
