I look towards the IBEW as a reference point when looking for a legitimate, established organization that takes gender and associated work identity and brings it to straight into the capitalistic society we all thrive in. A band of brothers all looking out for one another after a long hard day’s work. All looking for each others’ support in order to further stabilize one’s attained socio-economic plot in life. Although the website does thank women for their role in establishing the IBEW in the 1800s, what does this international brotherhood of electrical workers- and in 2006 moreso tradesworkers- mean?
Growing up in North America in an immigrant household, the lack of any cohesive culture in the boonies of Long Island became increasingly apparent to me. Here I was, going from the tight knit familial structure that was dictated by an even larger cultural schemata. Everything and everyone had a meaning and place, providing a strong sense of identity and security at its best, and causing havoc and mayhem at its worst. Gender identity of course was one of the most important components to ensuring that this system worked. Women and Men each had a different set of ideals and tasks to complete in any given day.
I do not necessarily frown upon this structure, as many benefits I believe arises from designating behaviors, ideals and tasks according to one’s gender. When faced with a similar set of challenges, chores, and expectancies in life, it allows females and males to bond with their fellows. This can be attested to the fact that not only to the chances that tasks and chores get done together and perhaps in the same room thus allowing abundant socializing time, but also because each gender is provided to an extent with a life scheme in which one-on-one relating becomes possible.
Living in a house where all the men would collectively be working on a project and all the women on another, it was quickly made apparent that a collective identity amongst either groups is present. Here a sisterhood could and can be found. But where was this sisterhood outside of my home? There was no collective memory between myself and my next best female friend. Of course we would share a bank of common ideals and experiences, but they would rarely spread far and beyond such a large group of girls that would compel us to come together and share, support and strive for better. Perhaps our North American high regards for individuation was so strong that it had acted has our largest hindrance. With no overarching culture dictating our lives, what did and do we really have?
Yet in the world of contracting men have a collective identity deeply rooted in the work they produce. Getting down and dirty for long hours at a time to the point where one may be accepted amongst the homeless as their own (yes its happened), contractors have a sense of what it feels like to be an “outsider” even if in reality they are a legitimate member of the middle class or above. And when you are building the homes and businesses for everyone else, a sense of self-validation comes about as you posess the skills and knowledge that everyone else around you so desperately needs.
When on a ladder, a construction worker might work by and give you a nod, initiating and legitimating you as one of their own. Sometimes I too would get these nods of approval, but they were far outweighed by the “What? You’re working?!” and the “What’s a girl like you doing here?” In other words, in more cases than not, my work-which I saw as the crux- did not initiate me into the world of manual laborers. And it did not because it was probably a common perception that perhaps I was not doing the same work because I was a girl. Or maybe it was rooted in some kind of chivalry that somehow contorted itself into strange inquiries and expressions instead. Or maybe it was because previously, there was no female in this particular bank of collective memories. (And of course if I come on a jobsite to talk to a client in my normal clothes I am always asked if I am a designer, but that is another story on its own.) The strength of camarderie that would build amongst men who laboured and toiled together is apparent. With gender identity being such an important part of self-identifying with one another, I was unable to be fully accepted as a fellow member on many occasions.
Many days I left perplexed after a long hard day’s work. I was equally as dirty, unkempt and tired as my fellow male partners, yet I missed out on the many bonding experiences that seemed to happen so casually amongst male tradesworkers who were strangers. I recall days where my co-workers would tell me about all the hilarious and interesting exchanges between him and this other painter/electrician/general contractor/brick layer that may have just been passing him by, or sitting next to him on the subway. They would compare who was dirter and have a good laugh. Or maybe they would share some unbelievable and comical work stories.
Whatever it was, these experiences (or the omission of them from my life) only made me realize further that women were in their own ways desperately in need of a common bond. But what is keeping us from forming it?
