Differences

In many ways, I think of myself as an outcast. I don't mean an outcast in a social reject, weird way. I mean outcast in the sense that I have never really fit into anyone's mold. Granted, I have made vain attempts to do so throughout the years but I always seem to fail miserably. This is not to say that I am resentful of who I am. A long time ago, I came to terms with the fact that I was never going to squeeze into a stereotype no matter how hard I did or didn't try. I am o.k. with that although, at times, it seems that other people are not.
From the time I was quite young, I suppose I was "nontraditional". Before I could have a "real job" I went to work for my dad during the summers doing concrete work. Because of my previous construction experience, I transitioned seamlessly into the roofing sector of construction when I graduated from high school. For 3 years, it was the love of my life and I never thought I'd do anything else. When I told people what I did for work, their face would contort into some strange expression of shock and semi-suppressed horror. "YOU work ON the roof?!?!?" was the very next thing I would hear every time. "Yes, stupid head. I work ON the roof. Not under it. In fact, I get to play fill-in foreman when my boss is gone." When I would show up on roofing jobs to turn in a bid or do an inspection, people would stare at me with nothing but doubt on their face that a GIRL could be a roofer. In their defense, my 5'3" 130-pound stature probably didn't seem conducive to the type of work I did either. Nonetheless, I tired of the stereotypical sexist comments rather quickly. The one thing I have learned over the years is not to entertain people's biased views of the abilities of the feminine species. I have had to work twice as hard as any male counterpart to prove that, if I put my mind to it, I can do anything they can. Women's rights may have been over a 100 years ago but apparently more than a few people missed the memo.

After 3 wonderful years of tracking up and down the highways of 5 Midwestern states and installing millions of square feet of roofs, my roofing career ended abruptly and I ventured off to start a more "conventional job" in phone banking. I hated it nearly from the second I started but it was a temporary means of income to pay my way into paramedic school.
The world of emergency medicine, too is a male-dominated profession. It is a world where blood, vomit, bad B.O., dirt, mud and tragedy mix on a daily basis. It is a world where you have to be on top of your game every waking moment. And it is a tough world to get by in if you don't embrace, to a limited degree, some masculine traits. You drive big trucks and do a lot of physical labor. For the sake of job safety, my uniform consists of department issued combat-style fire boots, long pants and standard t-shirts. I also carry a large pocket knife but I don't carry a purse or a wallet. There are no open-toed shoes, or cute shirts or nice pants. The uniform in itself is enough to squash the majority of femininity. Now, go crawling through the debris of a multi-vehicle accident and it diminishes it even more.
I don't resent any of these aspects of my job. I like being unique. I love that every day when I come to work something different awaits me. Above all, I like helping people. There are, however, those uncomfortable moments when I somewhat wish I could blend in with the rest of the female crowd. Just the other day, in fact, I drug my little boy to the station with me so I could wrap up some paperwork that I hadn't had a chance to finish on my previous shift. I was only there a short while but, as is my standard practice when going to the station when off-duty, I was wearing blue jeans with my uniform t-shirt with my pager and radio strapped to my belt. Our community has strategically placed our station with the city park on two sides of it so after my son calmly waited for me to take care of things, I took him to the park.
The moment we entered the playground, I felt like all eyes were upon me. I tried to position myself on a bench out of the main view of everyone in the park. (Don't get my wrong, I am not ashamed of who I am or what I do but it gets rather uncomfortable when everyone is staring at you when you are not doing anything overly attention-grabbing.) My attempts to be subtle and just another mom at the park, however, did not escape the notice of two small girls playing nearby. After a short while they ran up to me. Bounding excitement emanated from their every facet. "Are you a firefighter?" they gushed.
 "Well, I work for the fire department. I work on the ambulance and help the firefighters."
"COOL!"
They rushed off as quickly as they had approached me.
As I continued my attempts to be just another average mom at the park, I glanced around, noticing the other people who were out enjoying the beautiful day. The crowd of parents was made up almost exclusively of moms, the majority of whom seemed like they had left the house that day dressed for a fashion show instead of letting their kids burn some energy off. It was at that point that I realized there was zero chance of me looking like a "normal" mom at the point...or possibly ever.
I tend to feel the same way when I wander down the halls of our region's hospital. There are nurses and doctors in cute scrubs and perfectly arranged outfits. They know little, if anything, of the horrors and challenges of street medicine. They live and work within a sterile and controlled environment worlds away from mine.
I don't want any of this to come across as if I am complaining. Variety is the spice of life after all. We all have those things that appeal to us and that we are good at. In spite of  all that sets me apart from every other person that inhabits this earth, I love doing the work I do. It has it's joys and challenges. But it gives me a perspective unlike any other. I may always feel out of place when I go to the park or roam the hospital hallways but that is not going to change who I am or what I do.