on being a woman (in a man's world?)

(I’m not in the mood of writing, but BPS has been pressuring me to, so if the writing seems forced, and/or rambling, well…)

Coming from the idealized world of academia, where the line dividing the sexes is more indiscernible than anywhere else I can think of, transitioning to even an extremely accepting and progressive work environment (like my company's) is an adjustment. Never mind the daily reminders of my femininity that I encounter in the real world.

Aside from the largely secretarial work I’ve been assigned, I don’t necessarily feel like I’m being treated any differently than the men at work (even the secretarial work might have less to do with my being a woman, but more to do with my being new…at least that’s what I’m telling myself). That is, until I get to the elevator. The men make a point of waiting for me to get into and out of the elevator before them. They also try to get doors for me, but sometimes I’m too quick. At first I thought it was sweet, and I appreciated their old fashioned values, but I guess I have more of a feminist frame of mind than I’d like, since I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it was a bit of a belittling gesture (working on chasing the thought).

Then when I accompanied my “task master” to look at one of “our” bridges the other week, when climbing the first part of the bridge, the contractors were watching little me, outfitted with a hard hat and too large vest, in amazement (I was pretty amazed myself: I always thought I was afraid of heights). Then, before taking a an elevator (this elevator was more frightening than the climging) to the machinery room, one contractor looked at me, then at my “task master” and asked, you’re taking her up there?! It ain’t a pretty sight. (I didn’t really appreciate all the bird poop, and flies, and grease, and the heat…And I bet my “task master” was disappointed that I wasn’t expressing too much excitement on seeing the large gears, ropes, sheaves, motors, counterweights…Men tend to appreciate that sort of thing a lot more…).

Then in the real world, I didn't exactly appreciate it when a very sketchy guy attempts to give me a ride, and then his stalking me after my refusal, nor was I comfortable with the cars full of Mexicans trying to flirt with me, but I have to admit I did enjoy the most unsubstantiated flattery from men who were not flirting with me (I hope they weren't at least…). One said that if he were at MIT, he would not leave a beautiful girl like me alone. Then mentioned that by the way, he’s legally blind...Another, who incidentally is someone I never met and hardly know, commented that I’m “mentally aberrant (though a bren, nonetheless)… Bren is Yinglish for bluestoking, a real fireball of a woman. It's a superlative compliment.” (Is it a sign of insecurity that I take pleasure in compliments even when they're almost entirely groundless?)

While I wasn’t exactly tomboy in school, I made an effort to blend in, so this new thing of acting like a “lady” is (clearly) going to take some getting used to…