When I found out I would be attending a machining and manufacturing conference, there was an immediate, visceral reaction of pure dread. I have loved science ever since I was little, and that hasn’t changed. But as I’ve gotten older and watched the population of girls in my science classes shrink, the bright childhood passion has begun to fade. So you can imagine why an entire day dedicated to discussing careers in a severely male dominated industry -surrounded by companies that probably would hire a less qualified boy over me- would be frustrating.

Overall, It was a good day, besides the few moments that reminded me, yet again, of what being a womxn in STEM means. One moment in particular stood out to me. When a company representative was asked how she felt about being a woman in a male dominated field.

“You know most of the time, you’re gonna be the only girl in the room. And that’s a good thing!”

I shifted in my chair, looking up from the awful patterned carpet below me, and landing on the one woman in a panel board of men. My eyes searched to find one of the girls in my class, finding the same baffled look on hers that was plastered on mine. We always knew this, that we would have to fight twice as hard to have our voices heard. But having another woman tell us that it’s a good thing felt like a twist of a knife that was already in my chest.

I don’t hold anything against this woman. I understand that she was representing a company, and that it’s important to be proud of how far we’ve made it.

I will celebrate our bravery instead. Our individuality. The fact that we have kept pushing to be let into these spaces. Something I will never celebrate, however, is the fact that we were alone while we did it. That we had to seek out comfort in each other instead of feeling that we were valued as people in our field. That we need to fight just to get into these rooms.

I am proud to be a womxn in STEM.
But I’m not proud to be the only one.