Women Shouldn't

Women shouldn't be police officers. Women shouldn't be in the army, or any other branch of the military, for that matter. Women shouldn't be firefighters, or mechanics, or construction workers, or manual laborers, or lawn service people.

A common stereotype is that women should not be security guards. We're not "big" enough, we're not "strong" enough, not "intimidating" or "fast" enough. We can't do enough to protect people. We're just not "enough".

The first time I ever put on my Group 4 Securicor outfit I thought I looked like a BSO officer only with different colored pants: starched white shirt with the company shield on the shoulder, silver nametag with your first initial and last name, your two licenses, your badge, your cop pants with the black stripe down the leg, and of course, the cop belt. I was cool; I was hip.

I had a classic dyke occupation, which was one of the reasons I took the job in the first place. I thought I looked like I had some kind of authority, like I was powerful. If I told you to stop, you damn well better stop. The uniform would give me respect, I thought.

In retrospect, that uniform is worth nothing. I get told that it's cute, and that "it's sexy to see a girl in uniform," but from other people; from laypeople and delivery guys and people I've probably passed in the local Wal-Mart, I'm still an oddity. It's still out of the norm to see a woman in security guard getup.

As a female security guard I get all sorts of rude comments from men. "You're the first female security guard I've ever seen," might sound like a rousing nod to the fact that I'm breaking into a man's field. But when it's always said in a derogatory tone; one that says, You can't do shit if I want to go past you; well, that kind of impacts what you know about how people see your job. A man's field.

I'm an average-sized white girl with no gun and only a sliding glass door to protect me if someone decides that they want to mess with me.

And there are the underhanded comments. "Wow, they let women do this now?" and, "Well aren't you just the prettiest security guard I've ever seen," or, "Are those handcuffs?" Me: "Yeah," and after that just a disgusting grin that tells me exactly what he wants to do with those handcuffs.

And worst of all, the slow, condescending glance up and down my body. Looking to see if I'm a decent piece of meat.

Sure, there are times when being a woman comes in handy on the job. Female residents are more likely to tell me why they don't want someone entering the community, be it an ex-husband, abusive boyfriend, or someone they feel has threatened them sexually. The only female cop I've ever seen in Parkland talks to me in a way I feel is comradely, instead of the condescending tones my male coworkers have said she gives them.

You will see women at certain places where it's necessary to have a female guard: schools, airports, malls, ports. Anywhere that a woman might need to either be strip-searched or just frisked, a female guard will usually be there to prevent any cries of sexual harassment. But in other places: patrolling on foot or in a car, walking a mall beat, guarding a housing community (like I do), guarding a building, construction site or industrial complex, or especially a bank.

The business of security is still segregated by what jobs women "can" and "cannot" do according to their size, strength, and physical limits.

I feel rewarded if a woman asks me how she can get into my company because it seems like a "decent, equal place to work."

But often it's outweighed by the harassment I face when a man thinks he can intimidate me into doing something, whether it's letting him in or ordering me around like they pay my salary.

I work in a pretty nice area of Broward County, but it doesn't mean that visitors or service workers are just as nice. Most of the guests that see me don't say anything, but a few more memorable cases leave you with a lasting bitterness and feeling that you failed, even if you "won."

One day in January, a man from Spring Waters pool company became very angry with me when I wouldn't let him into the community. He wasn't on anyone's permanent list, kept giving me names of residents to try, and his company was nowhere to be found on past lists, either. I phoned my supervisor, who told me to shut the sliding glass door on the man and call 911 and ask to be connected to police dispatch. I decided not to, to try to talk the guy out of it.

No such luck. He got out of his truck, grabbed my shoulders, and attempted to intimidate me into letting him in. A few guests were in cars behind him, but no one got out of their car to assist me. Not that I expected they would. This was my job.

I stood my ground, acted like how I figured my boss would act, and told him that I wasn't going to take his shit. I opened the first gate and he got back in his car and turned around. If I had been a little smaller, or maybe a little more reserved in my attitude, or if I just hadn't given off that man-vibe he might have tried more.

Another, different incident was even more disturbing in the man's ferocity and misogyny.

One of my residents has joint custody of her child with her ex-husband (Mr. D). She has a restraining order on him and a court order that states that he cannot come into the community (i.e.: the intersection past my guardhouse between the first and second gates unless he is using the space to turn around). My post is where they exchange the daughter.

When he is at my post, Mr. D. constantly asks whether there is a male guard on duty who he can talk to, refuses to wait where he is supposed to until the resident has dropped the daughter off and retreated into the community. He doesn't try anything with any of the other (male) guards. He's had incidents before with other female security guards. They all left after meeting him.

One evening back in September he refused to move his car until I called the resident to let her know that he was here. I told him to wait out at the street.

He said no, that he was free to wait anywhere he wanted to. I have strict orders from my resident not to call her until I can see him drive out to the street. I told him that, and instead of moving his car like a nice, rational person eager to see his daughter might, he got out of the car, shoved his Concealed Firearm carry permit in my face, and demanded of me, "Bitch, call that bitch" and tell her to bring his daughter out.

I asked him, "Do we really need to get into this, sir?"

"Yeah, we do," he said.

"I don't think we do. Please get back in your car." I tried to sound as authoritative as possible, considering the very possible threat of a crazy ex-husband shoving a gun into my face.

"No. I'm not getting back into my car until you call Perri and tell her to bring my daughter out here."

A police officer would have arrested him right there. Unfortunately, I'm not a cop. Just a short white girl with handcuffs. And I didn't think he'd let me stand still long enough to close them around his wrists.

"I will call her and tell her you're here, sir, as long as you get back in your car and wait out at the street. If you don't, I will call BSO."

"Big threat," he said, smiling. He didn't take the plastic away.

I didn't try to get up in his face. I just sized him up. He was a little taller than me but not much wider. I still didn't want to take him in a fight. If that permit hadn't been revoked yet, and he actually did have it somewhere on his person… even if he didn't shoot me, being pistol-whipped is no fun.

I didn't touch him. You don't touch someone in a fight unless you want violence. Working where I do and with the people I do, I've learned that.

"Sir," I said one last time. "Get. Back. In. Your. Damn. Car."

I don't know whether he was tired of the game, or if I'd actually intimidated him, but he got back in his car and parked behind my post. That gave me the freedom to call his ex-wife briefly, tell her not to come out to the front gate because her ex was being belligerent, and then I called BSO. Approximately three minutes later two squad cars pulled up from inside the community. Mr. D started bugging them, and a few seconds after that he was squirming under the eyes of one officer while the other one searched his trunk.

After he was escorted off the property sans daughter, I called my supervisor, who said that Mr. D had never been like that with male guards, and it only ever escalated when there was a female guard on duty.

Men try to intimidate you a hell of a lot more often than they do other men. I've learned that when they think you're in a position to have power over them, to be in a position outside of the workplace, or outside of a familial or sexual relationship, that if you're a woman directly in front of them and you have the power to make them do something they don't want to do, you're a threat. And they respond accordingly, woman or no woman. On the one hand it's kind of nice to finally be seen as a threat. It's interesting to note that I've never actually been anywhere on the threat-to-the-male-ego pyramid anywhere outside of being obvious in public that I am dating a woman, and this job.

Working where I do, doing what I do has taught me that despite the rebellion of women against most job stereotypes, there are still a few that are classically a man's job. And men will attempt to make you pay dearly for breaking into their field, mainly by intimidation tactics or just plain staring at you and trying to make you feel like you don't belong.

Despite all of the things men do to get women out of their fields, away from their jobs, and out of a position where we might have power over them, I'm determined to stay. It might be their territory, but I'm marking it as my own and I'm marking it permanently.

A/N: First submitted to WST-2608-001 (Intro to Sexuality and Gender) at Florida Atlantic University in February of 2008.