“There are, for many of us, few people as attractive as the avoidant; the sort that are permanently a little mysterious; who don’t speak so much; around whom one never quite knows where one is; in whose eyes there is a faraway look, and perhaps a certain melancholy too; in whose hearts we intuit a sadness we long to, but never quite can, touch; people who seem to promise us intimacy and connection, and yet who remain – however long we have been with them – mesmerisingly unreassuring.”
I WAS one of the first women in the San Francisco Fire Department. For more than a dozen years, I worked on a busy rig in a tough neighborhood where rundown houses caught fire easily and gangs fought with machetes and .22s. I’ve pulled a bloated body from the bay, performed CPR on a baby and crawled down countless smoky hallways.
I expected people to question whether I had the physical ability to do the job (even though I was a 5-foot-10, 150-pound ex-college athlete). What I didn’t expect was the question I heard more than any other: “Aren’t you scared?”
It was strange — and insulting — to have my courage doubted. I never heard my male colleagues asked this. Apparently, fear is expected of women.
This fear conditioning begins early. Many studies have shown that physical activity — sports, hiking, playing outdoors — is tied to girls’ self-esteem. And yet girls are often warned away from doing anything that involves a hint of risk.
One study focused on, coincidentally, a playground fire pole, is particularly revealing. It was published in The Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology and showed that parents cautioned their daughters about the dangers of the fire pole significantly more than they did their sons and were much more likely to assist them. But both moms and dads directed their sons to face their fears, with instruction on how to complete the task on their own.
I spoke recently to a friend who admitted that she cautioned her daughter much more than her son. “But she’s very klutzy,” the mom explained. I wondered, wasn’t there a way even a klutzy child could take risks? My friend agreed there might be, but only halfheartedly, and I could see on her face that maternal instinct was sparring with feminism, and feminism was losing.
I had been a klutzy child, too. I was also shy, and scared of many things: big kids, whatever might be under my bed at night, school. But I pored over National Geographic and “Harriet the Spy.” I knew all about Sir Lancelot and the Knights of the Round Table, who wandered the countryside swearing oaths of bravery and honor. None of these characters talked about fear. They talked about courage, exploration and exciting deeds.
So I biked down a steep country road (and hit a car). I sledded down an icy hill (and hit a tree). I don’t remember my parents freaking out; they seemed to understand that mishaps were part of childhood. I got a few stitches, and kept biking and sledding. Misadventures meant that I should try again. With each triumph over fear and physical adversity, I gained confidence.
I recently asked my mother why she never tried to stop me. She said that her own mother had been very fearful, gasping at anything remotely rough-and-tumble. “I had been so discouraged from having adventures, and I wanted you to have a more exciting childhood,” she told me.
My mom is an outlier. According to a study in The Journal of Pediatric Psychology last year, parents are “four times more likely to tell girls than boys to be more careful” after mishaps that are not life-threatening but do entail a trip to the emergency room. It seems like a reasonable warning. But there is a drawback, and the researchers remarked on it: “Girls may be less likely than boys to try challenging physical activities, which are important for developing new skills.” This study points to an uncomfortable truth: We think our daughters are more fragile, both physically and emotionally, than our sons.
Nobody is saying that injuries are good, or that girls should be reckless. But risk-taking is important. Gever Tulley, the author of “50 Dangerous Things (You Should Let Your Children Do),” encourages girls and boys to own pocketknives, light fires and throw spears, arguing that dangerous activities under supervision can teach kids responsibility, problem-solving and confidence. It follows that by cautioning girls away from these experiences, we are not protecting them. We are failing to prepare them for life.
When a girl learns that the chance of skinning her knee is an acceptable reason not to attempt the fire pole, she learns to avoid activities outside her comfort zone. Soon many situations are considered too scary, when in fact they are simply exhilarating and unknown. Fear becomes a go-to feminine trait, something girls are expected to feel and express at will. By the time a girl reaches her tweens no one bats an eye when she screams at the sight of an insect.
When girls become women, this fear manifests as deference and timid decision making. We try to counter this conditioning by urging ourselves to “lean in.” Books on female empowerment proliferate on our shelves. I admire what these writers are trying to do — but they come far too late.
We must chuck the insidious language of fear (Be careful! That’s too scary!) and instead use the same terms we offer boys, of bravery and resilience. We need to embolden girls to master skills that at first appear difficult, even dangerous. And it’s not cute when a 10-year-old girl screeches, “I’m too scared.”
When I worked as a firefighter, I was often scared. Of course I was. So were the men. But fear wasn’t a reason to quit. I put my fear where it belonged, behind my feelings of focus, confidence and courage. Then I headed, with my crew, into the burning building.
Caroline Paul is the author of the forthcoming book “The Gutsy Girl: Escapades for Your Life of Epic Adventure.”
On Thu, Aug 24, 2017 at 9:56 AM, Liz Sanford wrote:
Oh yeah babe all I do it fight this shitttttt
basically this should be the job description:
NOW HIRING, Los Angeles, CA
Industry: Homeless Services
Job Title: SPA Level CES Matcher
Daily tasks include, but are not limited to:
– Repeatedly fighting with ‘The Man’ in its various manifestations
– Receiving little to no support from the lead funding agency in the CoC (Continuum of Care) while fighting with ‘The Man’ in its various manifestations
– Providing mandatory outcome data points to said lead agency that are in no way collected by or reported in the expensive database designed especially for this purpose by said lead agency
– Penalization by said lead agency for lack of outcome data points that literally do not exist
– Advocating relentlessly for ‘Fair Housing’ ideology that CoC has vocalized, agreed upon, and printed on official city/county website and other publicly available materials
– Writing enumerable emails that document PSH and landlord abuse of above mentioned Fair Housing ideology to said lead agency; receiving no, late and/or uninformed guidance from said lead agency upper management and line staff
– Collecting and providing feedback to facilitate SPA-wide and cross-SPA systems improvement; both qualitative and quantitative (i.e. myriad grievance reports, policy improvement ideas, non-traditional community partner insights, Housing Provider concerns, agency level complaints, case manager complaints, client complaints, etc.)
– Getting thrown under the bus by said lead agency when said lead agency is audited and held accountable for the above known systems failures
– Providing unpaid support to a wide range of involved entities and persons within the CoC due to lack of leadership and effective funding bucket allocations from said CoC lead agency; including driving clients (that are not your clients) to housing related appointments in your personal car, using personal cell phone for all job related calls without reimbursement, educating other agencies and partners with materials you or your agency have printed out of pocket due to lack of accurate materials developed by CoC ‘authorities’, educating CoC lead agency key-players about their own system, etc. etc.)
– Picking up old coping mechanisms due to tasks listed in the above job description, such as alcoholism, self-harm, paint huffing, or repeated suicide attempts, most frequently executed by jumping out a 5th floor window at 811 Wilshire Blvd
– Post-mortem employment termination from this position, per said lead CoC agency’s mandate, citing that your pre-mature death did not yield new assessments, provide positive outcomes, or continue to propagate CES rhetoric, and would thus not be tolerated
**Please email HR dept at fuckLAHSA@youragencynamehere.org with cover letter if interested.**
I picked this at random to listen to while I drove to a meeting downtown. It made me cry like a baby. I’m still not sure why.