I just wanted to put in this photo, just published today about steel workers in Sheffield during WWII...
This picture really speaks to me about how *I* am feminine and the things *I* enjoy. And that - I know the picture is staged for the journalist of the time - but that she is dressed the way she is, with heels, doing something she loves and supporting her family by doing so - and contributing to the needs asked of her...
few things make me feel "right on sistah!" but this pic really does.
I don't think of this job as masculine and therefor more valued. I think of the unacceptance of femininity to BE there and how hard it is to be taken seriously when I do the same thing (well, not fixing a tank. though my god, I would LOVE to) wearing my own femininity.
One of the biggest achievements, for me, was changing the bearings in a 4x4 drifeshaft, in the jungle, and not cutting my nails to do it. and I didn't break one. And I wore daisy flip flops. my symbols of femininity while I do something someone thinks I shouldn't be doing, while I'm doing it, is my happy "fuck you. I'm all fluffy a cute and I can do it better than you can, @sshole." to those it seems bizzare to.
and she's not all pin up about it either. rock!