From “Civil engineering! I love it! I’m working on two bridges right now, which is ultimately what I want to do in this field, and I’m so excited!” to “... and that’s kind of my general plan. I’m not sure it’s going to work out exactly like that, but it’s an idea, and I’m just living out my dreams,” it’s all good. When I’m talking about my life plan, I don’t really notice the skepticism of others. It’s a road map drawn with childhood dreams as all the main stops. But then comes the question. “What if you get married?” “How are you going to manage kids?” While most are immediately overwhelmed by everything I want to do and want to know why civil engineering is relevant to medical school and trauma surgery, these questions usually fade to asking about marriage and kids, with the underlying message that ultimately, I’m going to get married and have kids, and I’ll have to give up my dreams and goals to do so.
I’ve been told “You know, there’s plenty of other things you can do in the medical field that aren’t so gross! Like research!” and my dad later listened to me rant about how unfair it was that I would have to be stuck doing research, which I really have no interest in because someone else doesn’t like the idea of me getting my hands dirty, and he reminded me that the things people think of what I do doesn’t matter. Another time, I was told in an almost demeaning tone “Wow. That’s ambitious.” As a fifteen-year-old girl, I went home and my mom held me as I cried. And here I am, looking back, realizing that I’m one of the lucky ones. The only reason my dad doesn’t want me to major in engineering is because he’s afraid I won’t be able to get into medical school. When my brother suggested that he might pursue an undergraduate major in mechanical engineering and then head to medical school, my father’s reaction was the same. My parents, however, support my dreams. They support me in aiming to be an engineer, and they support my goal of becoming a trauma surgeon. This is not the case for many.
Many girls, when they tell their fathers that they want to be engineers, are told that they are girls (which I’m fairly sure most are actually aware of) and should choose something different, as that is not something for girls to do. They struggle between doing things their parents will be proud of and following their dreams. Many are told by school teachers that girls are not good at math, reminded by their elementary school classmates that engineering (in the form of legos and marshmallow/toothpick structures) is for boys and “why don’t you go play with your barbies?” They are reminded that engineering and technology isn’t ladylike when their male friends are praised for creation and ideas while they themselves are praised for their art and fashion, when they voice their dreams of building bridges and are met by sneers adults think they won’t notice and a painfully fake “Ooooh! That’s interesting!”
In middle and high school, you go to church and learn about your divine destiny to become a mother while your friends learn about how an integral part of being a father is securing a good job and providing for your family. Nobody questions you when you say you want to be a doctor or an engineer. “Go for it! You’ll earn a lot of money and gain important skills.” When mentioned in a girl’s class, the response is closer to “Oh, that’s great! Even if you don’t work in those fields, the skills you learn in school will help you raise your children!” “Even if you don’t work in those fields...” Ouch. They’re already feeding us this idea that we won’t ever have the opportunity to reach those goals.
Is it surprising that only 22% of my university’s college of engineering is made up of women? It’s almost a miracle that those of us in this college made it so far. It isn’t the end, though. Not by a long shot. Now, we get questions about marriage and how that will affect our dreams, whether we’d be willing to quit our jobs to have kids, why we don’t want to be mothers right now, what we think of our classmates, if we find our study partners attractive. There’s the sarcastic comment of “wife material” as if that’s all that matters. There’s the suggestion that once I get married, I’ll switch to an easier major, one that will be more manageable to finish while I have kids. These and many more comments are fairly harmless as solitary instances, but they add up. Oh, they add up, and the weight of them is so heavy.
So, why is it any wonder that older women who have been there, done that believe that it is so important for the younger women to have support? They hold conferences where they invite all of the brand new freshmen to spend time learning from the older girls in their major, where they are told that they are needed in their field, that they can do it, that they are smart, and that statistically, the women actually get better grades than the men in their college. They complain that there’s no women’s restroom in the basement of the engineering building, but are excited by the fact that there is going to be a mother’s lounge added that’s separate from the bathroom. We get to know the other girls in our field. We create friendships. We are able to meet other people who are not only learning the same things we are, but who understand the struggle it has been to get to where we are, the struggle it is to feel like we belong (not usually because of hostility from within, but because of ridicule from without), and who have some idea of what awaits us as we continue to try to ignore the comments, and will be there without questions when we just need to cry, not because school is hard, but because people never stop suggesting that your dreams are invalid.
