Against the Wind: How women can be their authentic selves in male-dominated professions

By Jennifer Wittwer

Are you struggling to be your real self in a workplace dominated by men?

Have you become ‘beige’ as a tactic to blend in?

Are you afraid to draw attention to your womanhood?

Systemic discrimination and cultural barriers in male-dominated professions continue to make it hard, even in 2020, for women to achieve their

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steorra Consulting
• Release date: Feb 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781925921571

Jennifer Wittwer

Jennifer Wittwer, CSM, is a nationally and internationally acclaimed gender expert, keynote speaker and published writer who has been recognised with numerous awards. With thirty-eight years in the Australian military, she has experience in leadership, organisational change, large-scale cultural and workplace reform, and implementing gender-responsive policy strategies and solutions. In recent years, Jen has worked for international organisations in Afghanistan, Brussels, New York, Ukraine and Jordan on a range of projects relating to women's participation in peace and security efforts.

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Preface

Some of the best days of our lives haven’t happened yet.

Anne Frank

This book documents the challenges faced by women in traditionally male-dominated professions. But it’s so much more than that. Importantly, I explore how women can, using their own power, command their careers in ways that will enable them to achieve their full potential — even if that often means sailing against the wind.

Woven through the book is my own story as a woman officer in the RAN, which took me from being a disempowered and disadvantaged trainee in 1981, to working as an international consultant to the UN in 2018. During the intervening years, I experienced many challenges relating to discrimination, sexual abuse, sexual harassment, intimidation and bullying. Overcoming this adversity led me to opportunities that would eventually allow me to pursue my passion for women’s equality and equal rights — for the women of our very proud and professional ADF, as well as the women of armed forces in many other nations.

As you may have already noticed, I’ve dedicated this book to all the women in my life, not the least my two daughters, Taylah Jessie and Chaeleigh Rae. In 2019, at the time of writing this book, Taylah turned 22 years old, completed her four-year double Bachelor of Arts degree in international studies and political communications at the University of Canberra, and has just landed her first job as an events and communications assistant with a boutique brewery in Canberra. Chaeleigh, at 19 years old, has deferred her double Bachelor of Arts degree in criminology and psychology at the Australian National University and is taking a gap year working as a contracted public servant in a large federal government agency.

Both of these amazing young women are embodying, enjoying and appreciating the freedom of choice available to all women today in studying and working in their chosen fields. I brought them up to believe they could be anything they wanted to be, and I am proud of their achievements and how they are making their way in the world. And it’s not just my daughters I see making inroads into male-dominated professions. I see this now all the time with the women I have the immense pleasure and privilege of working with and serving, in my previous roles in the Australian military and now as a consultant, mentor and coach.

Through my work with the Australian Government, the NATO ¹ in Brussels and Afghanistan, through to the UN in New York, and other countries around the world, I have seen — and played a part in — some amazing advances in women’s participation and representation in armed forces and security agencies. I have held roles focusing on national and international strategic priorities in women’s roles in peace and security efforts. Much of my work now, as a consultant, is still focused on these important areas.

The book is a reflection on the male-dominated occupations and workplaces I have experienced while also providing the practical ‘how to’ strategies I have developed that can help you to overcome the challenges, adversity, complexities, and obstacles that women face throughout their careers. In these situations, we are often told women ‘can’t be who they can’t see’ — that is, that navigating male-dominated professions is even more difficult for women if they don’t have other women to look to as examples. While I agree with this argument, and the push for more visible women underlying it, I also argue sometimes you can’t wait for these role models to appear. So my mantra throughout this book is, in the absence of role models, focus on positioning yourself to ‘be what you can’t see’.

Sailing with and against the wind

My own journey significantly shaped who I was and how I became who I couldn’t see.

I was always destined to join the Australian military. My father, Graham, was a pilot in the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF), but sadly died in a flying accident at Point Cook, Victoria, on 28 June 1961. My mother, Janne, a clerk in the RAAF, had of course been discharged on marriage in 1959. She had a two-year-old daughter, my sister Louise, and was pregnant with me when Graham passed away.

She was quite a remarkable woman for her time. She had suffered significant adversity in her life (all before she gave birth to me, at the age of 23), yet when my father died she packed up her life in Victoria, moved to Sydney and bought a house, and got a job. All at a time when women predominately finished school, got married, started their families and stayed home. I remember being cared for each day by an old lady up the road. Then school started and my sister and I would walk the two miles or so to and from school by ourselves. I think this early independence and resilience set us both up quite well for the future.

A few years later my mother re-married and then went on to have three more children; another daughter and two sons. We all grew up knowing everything about Graham. While there were no secrets in the house, our lives were quite regimented; there was order, allocated chores and, perhaps most telling, a small replica of a ship’s bell in the kitchen. When my mother wanted something done, she would ring once for Louise, twice for me and three times for my younger sister Michelle. (And I would love to argue here that perhaps the exclusion of my brothers was based on their sex but, in reality, they were just toddlers at the time.)

Maybe because of my childhood experiences, and the stories of my mother and father I grew up listening to, I always felt drawn to and destined for a career in the armed forces. And it must have been something about the ship’s bell that led me, in particular, to the Navy in 1979 when I was in Year 11. Or perhaps it was the World War II movie Ship Ahoy (complete with Nazis, ocean liners, the main character tap-dancing messages in Morse code to a United States (US) agent, and an uncredited appearance from Frank Sinatra), or maybe just an aversion to the polyester mint-green uniform that Army women wore in the 1970s and early 1980s. But I do recall thinking the Navy uniform for women was the most military-looking of all the Services! That said, it was arguably more like the local women’s seniors bowling club attire!

Whatever the reason, I went along to a recruiting centre in Parramatta, Sydney, and sweetly asked the sailor behind the desk what jobs could I do in the Navy after I completed Year 12. He said I could be a driver, a steward, a cook or a writer, which were some of the few categories then allocated to female sailors. OK, I thought, sounds interesting!

Well, nothing really stood out as being awesome, but my interest in the Navy remained and so, the next year, in 1980, I wrote to the recruiting centre, gave them my Year 12 mid-year exams results and they sent me an application for Supplementary List (short service commission officer entry). This form of entry, which only allowed women and some men to join for a period of nine years, was the only avenue at that time for women joining as officers, and usually offered as a result of completing Year 12 and passing four subjects, including maths and English. Men were generally appointed on the General List, a life-time commission. Occupations on offer were logistics, communications or administration. That sounded a little more promising than what the sailor at the recruiting centre had outlined, but I had no idea what an officer was, or did. I merely completed the application and made my way through the various testing phases to an officer selection panel.

I really had no clue as to what I was committing myself. I rocked up looking (I thought) glamourous in a white suit Mum had made for my Year 12 graduation, long, blonde hair out over my shoulders. (A few years later, one of our Admirals, who had been the chair of my selection panel, told me he only let me into the Navy because of my hair!) Quite frankly, I didn’t even know a bow from a stern! The senior female officer on the panel told me outright she thought I was only joining the Navy to find a husband. I was bemused but promptly responded that it was the last thing on my mind (which it was). What I actually said was something like, ‘I don’t think I need to join the Navy to find a husband.’ On reflection, that probably sounded a bit pompous, but I actually meant that was the furthest thing from my mind. Hello, it was 1980 — I wanted a career!

I’ll expand on the story that unfolded after getting through that first selection panel in the following chapters. What I will say here is that, back in 1980, I had no idea of the many obstacles, challenges and opportunities I would face to make me the person I am today. I didn’t know then that my career would take some significant turns and enable me to find my passion and my purpose so early in the journey.

What I learnt quickly was that I would be navigating unchartered waters for female officers, sometimes sailing against the wind, but always forging ahead in claiming my rights to equality, my rights to enjoy a career unfettered by exclusions due to gender and, ultimately, shaping, influencing and leading change and transformation on women’s full participation and representation in global peace and security efforts.

Over time, through my experiences and challenges, I developed a voice for women affected by violence in the military. I built a credible reputation as an expert in gender perspectives and the role of women in the military. I authored many articles, and even a chapter for the inaugural Oxford Handbook on Women, Peace and Security in 2018. I became an in-demand keynote speaker, and began mentoring and coaching other women in male-dominated sectors. I’ve been recognised with various national awards for women, I am an ambassador for various organisations representing women’s interests, and I also serve as a non-executive director for the International Women’s Development Agency, focused on women’s equality and development.

I became that woman I couldn’t see way back in 1981.

My vision and mission

I am very proud of my Naval service, although I often felt like a square peg in a round hole. As you’ll read through this book, my experiences in the Navy created some confusing emotions: sadness, anger and disappointment for the first half and some later aspects of my career, but also joy, happiness and excitement for the opportunities, roles and positions that enabled me, over some thirty-eight years, to contribute to the more positive changes for women in our armed forces, our society and our communities. I feel very privileged to contribute to the defence of Australia, its national interests, including those in overseas conflicts. While I did not know or appreciate the risks I would become exposed to in the early years, I am not bitter and nor do I regret any decisions, actions or sacrifices I made for myself, my family and my service.

As a thought leader, advocate for women’s rights and equality, and practitioner in woman’s meaningful participation, my belief is that women are not free when any woman is unfree. My vision is a world where women are respected and valued, have full equality, and are empowered to live their lives freely and unfettered. My mission is to inspire, lead and empower women to live self-determined lives, reach their full potential, realise their dreams, and become free to make their own choices in all aspects of their lives. I credit my naval service to leading me to my purpose in life.

I hope that in writing this book and sharing my story, women of all ages and stages who are working hard and tirelessly in male-dominated industries with similar challenges to those I have faced will gain hope and faith that a time will come when they are no longer judged against the standards of men, where no gender pay gap exists, where gender advisers are no longer required, and where gender perspective becomes a common consideration in the development and implementation of all policy and practice that affects both women and men.

I decided to call the book Against the Wind, as a reflection of my view that in aspiring to ‘be what you can’t see’, and to successfully navigate your way around a male-dominated workplace, you have to take charge of yourself and your career — and sometimes that means separating yourself from the pack and choosing a different tack.

What you may see, before you read this book, is the way you have become conditioned to your environment, one which may have certain boundaries that may not allow you to be yourself and fulfil your potential. My hope is you see a different way after reading this book.

Jennifer Wittwer, CSM

Canberra, Australia, 2020

Introduction

Smooth waters never made a skilled sailor.

Franklin D. Roosevelt

As I mention in the preface, this book is a mixture of my story and the practical advice I’ve developed from this experience for all women as they navigate their journey in male-dominated professions.

At first I thought I would just write my memoir: the story of one woman’s career in the very male-dominated RAN. After all, my life has been one of many experiences and being the ‘first’ in many instances. I have had my share of hard lessons, hard knocks, amazing opportunities and achievements — way beyond my expectations.

Then I realised I had so much to share with women today — women like you, who work in male-dominated professions. I can share experiences and learnings that have as much relevance for you now as they did for me. Why? Because I see the same challenges now that existed for me throughout my lengthy career!

So, I thought, why not share what I learnt about not just surviving, but actually maximising opportunities and thriving in my chosen field. This led me to the purpose of this book: to give you some practical strategies and tips on how to feel more empowered in your profession, to feel more energised, to lead more purposefully and to do it all with passion.

When I joined the Women’s Royal Australian Naval Service (WRANS) in 1981, as what is known now as a maritime logistics officer, I was by all accounts a young, naive and impressionable woman. I honestly had no idea what I was doing. As I mentioned in the preface, I didn’t know a bow from a stern. (Well, that actually didn’t matter back then because women weren’t allowed to serve on ships!)

I joined in a class of about forty young women and men (of which only eight were women) on short service commissions. Only two classes per year were recruited. We completed our training at RANC, in Jervis Bay Territory south of Sydney. This was also the training centre for young male officers on permanent commissions completing diplomas of applied science (this was the main method of entry for male officers prior to the Australian Defence Force Academy (ADFA) opening in 1986). So already we women were in the minority. At that time, women comprised only about 7 per cent of the total Navy workforce.

‘Be brave,’ I said to myself. Set some important goals, I thought. Surely this will tide me through — and, ultimately, it did. At the time, the only senior female logistics officers I remember — Denise Smith, Jenny Lloyd, and Lila Bilsborough — left the service sometime in the mid-1980s to early 1990s. There were no other women working in logistics senior enough to me to look up to and aspire to be like, particularly later in the 1990s when I was qualifying as a charge logistics officer (meaning I could go on to serve as the head of the logistics department and go to sea).

That said, some amazing women were in communications and administration who had achieved the rank of Commander or Captain (then the ceiling rank for women) before they retired: Barbara McLeod, June Baker (the commander from my selection panel who suggested I was looking for a husband), Sandy Coulson, Sue Manning, Sue Jones, Liz Cole and Ros Keysell. Another notable female leader was Carolyn Brand, a mine warfare officer recruited from the RN (the United Kingdom’s (UK) Navy) in the 1980s in an employment category that didn’t yet exist for women in our Navy. And I appreciated them paving the way for the next generation.

However, I was in logistics, and women had only been offered this occupation from about 1979. I had to have the vision to fuel the necessary determination to succeed. I needed tenacity and just plain grit in spades to make a career in the Navy, and I wanted to thrive, not just survive!

I had to see past the systemic barriers, the discrimination and the inequalities that existed at the time to see myself in the future, having reached my full potential, having made my mark. And this was what I set out to do!

Thankfully, the introduction of the Sex Discrimination Act in 1984 was the beginning of change. Women like me were able to ride the groundswell of that change over the following thirty years or so and become the role models for the women who followed us.

Throughout the following thirty-five years, women have had to step up and be those ‘firsts’ as the historical chains of systemic inequality slowly dropped away.

Be what you can’t see

I touch on my mantra that women need to be what they can’t see in the preface, but let me expand on the idea here. One of the most common expressions we hear as women in male-dominated professions is that ‘you can’t be what you can’t see’, because women, of course, need role models. Only then we can see what we can achieve. Right?

Even some high-profile Australian women, themselves the ‘first’ in their careers, perpetuate the myth that ‘if you can’t see it, you can’t be it’. This sentiment has long been behind the push to encourage more women into occupations and roles previously denied them due to gender restrictions. I completely understand why this exists; however, at some stage, some women actually have to be the ‘first’. In the absence of role models, you need to be what you can’t see.

Let me share an example. In 1996, I hit a major milestone. I served on a Navy ship as the senior logistics officer (by the way, one of only two women in a crew of 212, but more on that later!) and successfully completed a full tour of duty. I was one