On Sexual Discrimination In My Workplace

I'm about to type a few paragraphs. And a few paragraphs, no matter how well-thought, are not enough space to explore the myriad nuances of sexual discrimination. However, sometimes a feeling just creeps up on you and it's worth jotting down even if it isn't fully evolved or functioning.

On the way to the project, riding in the back of the work truck, it's very common that some of the men to flip through pornographic magazines. I'm not talking about Maxim or Playboy. Those magazines are printed on thick, glossy pages and run on a big budget; they pretend to have a story to tell. The necessary money to run the magazines comes from revenues earned though advertisements for Puritanical things like deodorant, razors, and sneakers. The photo shoots are a little dirty but the overall feel, more or less, is squeaky clean. They are the magazines that inspire comments like, "People in Europe are so much more comfortable with nudity. I don't know why it can' t be like that here. Our country needs to relax." The magazines floating around the back of the pick-up (and  through the window to the cab) are much different. They're low-budget, factoid-free, lots-of-pictures-with-bad-lighting, and overtly explicit magazines. You couldn't pay Gillette to run a Mach III Turbo ad in one of these publications and as a result the paper is matte and tears easily and the photo shoots are dingy. The magazines are passed back and forth quietly (almost everyone listens to MP3s) with a few slight hand gestures and raised eyebrows.

Even thought I'm not a fan of porn (I know she's not comfortable. Those shoes are not in, why is she wearing them? Grown women have pubic hair, why is looking like a pre-pubescent girl a turn on?). I can honestly write that the magazines don't bother me.

Today I was one of about 40 people who received an e-mail from the Senior Chief who runs training. Of the forty names listed at the top I was one of two women. The e-mail opened as follows:

Brothers,

           I need your help on the monthly training attainment.  Currently we receive different format of reports, some we can use, some we can not.  Please do not send training rosters...

The greeting, "Brothers", bothered me. A lot.

It isn't logical that explicit and degrading photos of women aren't a problem but that a very innocent e-mail is (it's the second I've received from him that addresses me as a "Brother"). And I'm a big fan of logic so the counterintuitive nature of my feelings was nagging at me. I gave it some thought and what I realized was that for me it's a question of belonging. The magazines don't bother me because the  reason the men page through them in the truck is that I'm part of the group: I am a member of the Bridge Crew and as such am thought of primarily as a unit (four steel workers, two builders, one surveyor...) and somewhere after that I become a woman. The e-mail bothers me because it reminds me that I'm not a member of Senior Chief's group. I am other and I know from experience that other is rarely trusted. Like everyone else who received the e-mail I organize and document training and I'd like to think I do it well. However, I don't belong and for Senior that won't change any time soon. At least that's the feeling I get.

I think Woody Allen might have missed the mark when he said, "I'd never join a club that would allow a person like me to be a member." I only want to be a member of a club that would be happy to have me around.