Women in Aviation - Female Techies

womenanddrones.com

An early memory for me was back in 7th grade. I was attending a gifted school that had some real money and we were able to purchase two Apple II computers. It was a huge deal in the early 1980s for a school with less than 100 students. Our science teacher was a male chauvinist pig. When we got the computers, he asked the "boys" of our class to gather 'round the new technology. I was already programming in BASIC & beginning to learn COBOL by that age, so I was super interested. I gathered around too, only to be shot down with, "Angela, I asked the 'BOYS' to come over, not you." Never mind that I was salutatorian. Never mind that I probably understood the technology better than anyone else in my class, and possibly even my teacher. It was clear. This was a 'boys only' club, and I was not invited.

In the early 1990s, I was a technician for a phone center. I handled home improvements and helped people install garage door openers, use their robotic swimming pool cleaners and program universal remote controls. Again, I entered a boys' club as I was one of 3 females in a department of 120. When I got the job, the guy interviewing me had the balls to ask me if I was "given any of the answers" to the test I needed to take because I was "'cute' and the guys wanted me to be in their department". "No," I answered. "And, in fact, you can plainly see that I know absolutely nothing about cars, but I do know a LOT about building homes (because I've been around it since I was a toddler) and a LOT about computers (because I was already building databases by this stage of my life) by my test answers, correct?" I got the job, but also got the whole..."Gee Angela, how come you don't wear short skirts anymore now that you're over on the tech side?"

Should that particular pig of a junior high teacher ever feel guilty that he tried to shoot down a female student's dreams, his conscience can be clear. In my 20s and 30s, I built databases for a paycheck and I loved it. I'm still a data geek after all of this time, but I've fallen behind on database development and programming after the initial push to get database technology online in the early 2000s. I can still build simple structures though, and that seems to satisfy our professional needs.

Now, I am an FAA certified unmanned drone pilot. One would think in 2017, I would not still be an anomaly in my techie pursuits, but I am. I joined a local group for Radio Controlled aircraft and because my passion lies more in the art and storytelling beyond the technical aspects of flying a drone, I'm still not a welcome member to the boys' club. I'm not mechanically inclined and most of these RC pilots are, building their aircraft from the bottom up in many instances. I'm in awe of their talents, but my passion and my technical aptitude still doesn't align with theirs.

I still have a lot to learn. Maybe one day I will be able to tear apart my bird and build it back up even better and badder than before. Until then, I'm still this freakish female who pilots a drone, handles all the techie details and has just enough aptitude to keep it aflight. If this makes me a pioneer, I'm happy to wear that label. However, what does it take to garner an equal footing in this world? I'm still trying to find that footing, and so far it's been precarious.

The Newest, Lowest Chapter of My Life

I have been dealing with chronic illness for 30 years. I remember being healthy. In fact, ages 16-almost-18 were the best years of my life. I had wheels. I was a good kid. I got a job and joined every club I was interested in at my high school to avoid my parental units and the daily abuse I got at home. I got a full time job. Full time school.  I was planning to move in with a good friend of mine my senior year and then the parentals threatened me with being a runaway and having a police record. It was their last-ditch effort to control my life and it almost didn't work. Almost. Instead, I got very, very ill. It was the beginning of my autoimmune issues. I missed the last two months of my senior year in high school. I missed out on my prom and nearly my graduation. I was an ace student and had no trouble keeping up my grades, even when I was very ill. I graduated with honors. I looked like a monster, however. It was a very nightmarish scenario for me, a 17-year-old brainiac hippie nerd who didn't feel anywhere near attractive to begin with. I looked like a monster. I will never forget going to the pharmacy and a little kid asked his or her mom, "What's wrong with that lady, mommy?" Her answer: "She must have been in a horrible fire." Yes, I looked that monstrous.

When I was a little, little girl, my mother worked for a bank in the south side of our city - the "bad" end of town. A lot of vagrants, pushers, prostitutes, etc. worked in that area. I remember being a little girl and asking my mom "What's wrong with that man, mommy?" He was known as the Boil Man. He had a serious case of boils over most of his body and I don't know if he was homeless, or was living in that area. When I was 17, I had become the modern equivalent of the "Boil Man" and I felt like a freak.

Little did I know 30 years ago that I would STILL be suffering from that illness. Fortunately I am not permanently disfigured other than a couple of small scars, but I do have my moments with skin crap, chronic migraines, eye and visual impairments, failing kidneys, pervasive infections, etc.

While I don't look like a monster anymore from the waist up (most days, anyway), I still feel like one. My eyes and head have become the new skin disorder. Vasculitis is ruining my legs. I thought getting away from the monster and my mother would cure me, but it didn't.

Today has become my new low. I turned down an HR position that I know I would love. I can't guarantee my health to this company, however. I can't guarantee my visual acuity. I can't guarantee ANYTHING anymore. I meet with an attorney tomorrow who specializes in disability. I hate that it has come down to this. I also hate that his paralegal was rude and condescending with me on the phone. I'm NOT an idiot. I've been a paralegal. I just don't know this area of law. I had a simple question.

I don't know what my future holds, and I'm frightened. I want to be relevant. I want to make a difference. I want to be meaningful. Right now, I'm just not feeling any of it.

Memories of Uncle L

My tios and the tiny version of me.

I have so many good memories of my Great Uncle L. He passed away ten years ago. I was just thinking the other day about when I lived with him and Great Auntie in Florida. Him talking me into taking his 1968 red T-Bird convertible to the store…and "take the long way home, by the beach, so you can find a boyfriend.” I remember thinking at the time to myself…A-I’m not looking for a boyfriend B-My car is already enough of a guy magnet…not sure I want an even more guy magnet-ish car!!…and C-I need a hot car to find a boyfriend!?

Too funny, but I know it was his way of trying to keep me in Florida. I was very, very tempted to stay in Florida too, but it was too expensive for a kid just starting out.

I remember on vacation when I was 14, Uncle L going to the mall with us, and I fingered this beautiful soft, pink sweater there. I decided it cost too much money, so I left it. Right before we left to come back to Illinois, Uncle L said - "Hold on, Beautiful, I have something for you." He'd gone back to the store and he got that sweater for me!

When I was small, he'd always sing "Beautiful Brown Eyes" to me. He still sang it to me when I was in high school, and my eyes were becoming more hazel. Every year he and Great Auntie came to Illinois for 2 weeks in October, so my wonderful Tia could see the fall foliage she loved so much. He'd bring his guitar, and we'd all spend an evening singing, laughing, talking, eating Cuban food. It was beautiful. He'd play a few songs in Spanish that my grandma and Tia would sing too, and sometimes my eccentric Auntie (I also have a story that I'm writing about her and how I became a hippie the summer I turned 3--about the same age I am in the photo--because of her. It's outlined in my personal journal, so I'll post it soon.) and my mom would know the songs too.

Partially because of my uncle, I have a profound love of music. He got me listening to Julio Iglesias and Marty Robbins. He got me interested in trying to pick out tunes on a guitar. He got me interested in cumbia, chicha and salsa music.

Speaking of my own guy magnet car – my '65 Mercury Comet – it probably didn’t hurt that my friends were all so beautiful. Maybe they were the guy magnets, not my Baby Comet. Maybe it was just the great combination of hot girls in a hot car. I remember the ex-husband and I drag racing against each other in the New Mexico desert. Baby Comet didn't have quite the pick-up that our '92 Mustang 5.0 Litre did, but she kicked ass in the long haul. I can't remember if the speedometer went to 120 or 140, but I know I pushed 120 mph on those long stretches of desert road where you could see for miles and miles, but would never see a single other car.

Yes...I'm a chick. And I think cars are hot. What can I say? Even now I love my little Nissan Juke. It looks like a Volkswagen Beetle and an SUV had a love child and it has its fair share of power. I don't live life in the fast lane anymore, but I still could...if I wanted to. And, no worries Uncle L. I found a boyfriend. After 24 years, I think I'll keep him!