Reykjavík Grapevine - 04.03.2016, Page 10

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The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 3 — 2016
I have always been a feminist. I
am a girl, and I am also logical,
so the concept that I should have
the same opportunities in life as
my brothers always made sense
to me. I love being a lady-person,
and I love the women who have
made unimaginable sacrifices to
create a world in which I am equal
to menfolk. Moving to Iceland,
the nation with the highest gen-
der equality on earth according
to the World Economic Forum,
has taught me a lot about what a
culture of equality means in prac-
tice.
A difficult side effect of living in
the feminist utopia that is Iceland
is that I am cursed with a new per-
spective. I view daily interactions
through a righteous filter. I collect
injustices wherever I find them, and
it is really starting to piss me off.
The sad truth is that through work-
ing in Iceland, I see rampant sexism
on a daily basis. Since moving here,
I have morphed from a Girl Power
feminist (i.e. a bubble-pop Spice
Girl) into a bitter, jaded, militant,
no-nonsense angry feminist. Grrrr!
I work in an industry dominated
by men. Old-school men. When they
were my age, they were cowboys,
and they still tend to think that way.
They distrust me, a young foreign
woman. What value could I possi-
bly bring to a conversation among
experts who have been in the field
since before I was born? I have
never been explicitly propositioned
or assaulted at work. Men are wise
enough (likely with the help of a
comprehensive series of workshops
on sexual harassment) to know that
isn’t allowed. The daily in-your-face
sexism I encounter is subtler than that.
It is often wrapped in a messy tangle of
“humour” at my expense, or at the ex-
pense of women in general. This kind
of institutionalised sexism is a rotten
puzzle. Laughing at bad jokes feels
wrong. Speaking up makes it look
like you don’t have a sense of humour.
It is usually not a “big enough” insult
for me to complain to the higher-ups
and demand action. But all the same
it eats at you until you feel like your
voice doesn’t matter.
Male colleagues interrupt me
constantly. Not just me. I will never
forget the time my office was visited
by a high-ranking official from an
important partner company, who,
after being interrupted by one of my
male coworkers repeatedly, leaned
over to me and whispered, “Good
God! I can’t get a word in edgewise!”
Once I told a coworker that I would
be working with him on a project
abroad, to which he responded, “Are
you coming along to get us coffee?”
Another time I walked to the cof-
fee machine in my socks (like a lot
of people do) and one of the old men
at my work asked me if I was plan-
ning to start dancing on the table.
And then there is the time I was giv-
ing a colleague critical feedback and
was interrupted by my colleague
who said, “Don’t listen to her. She
is just being difficult. She is so hard
to handle when it is that time of the
month.” I was so shocked, I couldn’t
speak. What year is it again? Did
I just spontaneously teleport into
a ‘Mad Men’ episode? Where I am
from, people get sued for saying shit
like that.
I recently attended a founding
meeting for an Icelandic association
of women in science. The organis-
ers were unsure how many people
would show, but they should not
have worried. As women poured
through the door, it became clear
that the meager five rows of fold-
ing chairs that had been set up for
us would not be sufficient, and we
were moved into an auditorium.
Then we filled it. With no empty
seats in sight, I estimate we were
150-200 women, who were deter-
mined to take two hours out of our
busy Thursday nights to attend to
what we all saw as an important is-
sue. The subsequent lectures were
fascinating. And disturbing. Women
working in scientific fields in Ice-
land, as with other disciplines in
other places, are grossly underrep-
resented in leadership roles. While
roughly 60% of science undergrads
are women, the number of female
professors in the field is more like
26%. The gender ratio in science
and engineering is abysmal. At one
point, a presenter asked us to think
of the reason why we were there. It
occurred to me that all the women
sitting next to me likely had a collec-
tion of nasty stories similar to mine,
bubbling under their skin. It made
me angry.
I remind myself that women be-
fore me have had it much worse.
I remind myself that the people I
work with are actually excellent
people, who just don’t understand
how much their words can sting.
When I confronted the person who
made a joke about me being on my
period, and told him it was a shitty
thing to say, he was mortified. I hon-
estly believe he hadn’t even remem-
bered saying it. The comment that
had meant so little in his life had
taken up months of mine, time spent
trying to decide if it was worth the
confrontation, and what the possible
repercussions could be if I brought it
up.
My biggest takeaways from my
time as a working woman in Iceland
are important, and I think of them
every time I walk into the office.
Call it out
immedi-
ately.
Don’t ruminate on inappropriate
comments in the office. Don’t let
them bother you for months before
you speak up. If something feels
wrong, say so in the moment. This
is easier said than done. When you
are embarrassed, you blush. You get
a lump in your throat. You may feel
like bursting into tears. Your voice
will falter. You will worry that you
are making a scene. Make a fucking
scene. You are doing everyone a fa-
vor, I promise.
If it isn’t
funny, don’t
laugh.
This is also harder than it sounds.
You want to feel like you are one
of the team. You are in the club, so
you can roll your eyes and snicker
along, right? Nope. I have found the
phrase, “Wow. That isn’t funny at
all” can do wonders. So can, “I hope
nobody ever says something like
that about your daughter!”
Defend
other
women.
If you find yourself in a situation
where a woman’s voice is silenced,
interrupt. Bring the conversation
back to her. If you see bullying or
sexual harassment, speak. If you feel
you can, talk together afterwards,
and encourage her to practice as-
serting herself. Remind her that her
presence, voice, thoughts, and opin-
ions are valuable.
Occupy
space.
This sounds funny, but I swear it is a
blast. Men I work with spread them-
selves over any available surface.
They put their feet up on desks, sit
with their legs spread, and some-
times even do this silverback go-
rilla posture on my desk—knuckles
down, leaning in—when they are
saying something reallllly impor-
tant. I have started to pick up this
useful habit. When I need to tell
my boss something difficult, I con-
sciously put my hands on my head,
lean back, and let my legs flop, tak-
ing up as much space as I can. It feels
ridiculous, but it really works. You
become dominant… like the power-
ful mammal you are.
Remem-
ber your
worth.
There is strength in diversity. You
were hired because you have some-
thing valuable to contribute. Shout
it. Even if you have to interrupt,
stand like a gorilla, and throw a cou-
ple of elbows to break into the boys
club, do it. Otherwise, nothing is go-
ing to get better.
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Politics | Bright?Column | Seriously, you need to read this
How Working
In Iceland Turned Me
Into An Angry Feminist
Jennifer Lewis:
How Working
In Iceland Turned Me
Into An Angry Feminist