I grew up in a household where both my mom and dad worked hard. From a young age, I saw no reason to believe that women were less capable than men. My mom wasn’t just a multitasker, she was a force. She held a management position, ran a side business, taught at a university, and still made time for her family. As a teenage girl, the idea that women are not leaders or “less capable” was nonsense to me; I was surrounded by strong women, and I never saw their careers or contributions as different from men’s.
In my world, I saw different types of families: some mothers were stay-at-home moms, some worked hard in their careers, and some did so while being mothers and fathers at the same time. I respected each choice equally, and it never occurred to me that women and men might face different challenges in the workplace.
Even when I started college, the concept of gender inequality wasn’t something I paid much attention to. I was studying industrial engineering, and the number of women was almost equal to the number of men. In my “bubble,” equality seemed to have already arrived. In reality, I was living in a bubble of naivety and ignorance.
Internalizing, not questioning
Before studying industrial engineering, I studied social communication for a short time. In my second semester, however, I realized that it wasn’t for me, that I wanted something more technical, and decided to switch to engineering. I asked some engineers I knew for advice on whether I was making the right decision, and there were two answers I got that were… interesting. A female engineer told me, “If you study engineering, you won’t have time to look nice and wear makeup all the time.” That surprised me, especially coming from a woman. I mean, why couldn’t I do both? I thought, did she really think that wearing makeup meant I couldn’t be serious about my career, or that I was so superficial that I would choose a career based on whether I looked cute? It was hard not to take it personally. The other comment I got was from a male engineer who said, “You know, engineering is hard, right? It’s not like social communications.” His words felt judgmental, not only of my new career choice, but also of my previous studies.
At the time, I brushed off both comments as personal judgments and concentrated on the positive comments I received from the other engineers I interviewed.
In my bubble of ignorance, it didn’t occur to me that they were part of a larger pattern of gendered assumptions. Now, however, I see these comments as subtle reflections of society’s stereotypes about women’s roles and abilities.
Bursting the bubble
My bubble burst completely when I moved to Germany to finish my studies at the age of 21. Whether it was the cultural change or just growing up, I started noticing things I hadn’t noticed before. One of the first shocks was seeing that less than 10% of the students in my mechanical engineering classes were women. This percentage didn’t improve much during my master’s program, where only 13% of the students were women.
The bubble did not burst overnight, but slowly, through some experiences that gradually opened my eyes to the reality of our society today, and I would like to share with you some key moments that led me to ask myself the question: What if I were a man? Would my experience be the same?
– Surprise at my choice: Almost every time I mentioned studying mechanical engineering in Germany, the response was, “Really? As a woman?” At first I thought they were impressed, but I soon realized that they were more surprised by my gender than by the fact that I was studying a challenging subject in a foreign language.
– The “woman bonus”: A friend once told me, “It doesn’t matter what your grades are; you have the ‘woman bonus.’”. It made me start to wonder if I’m being hired for my skills or just to fill a gender quota. This “bonus” felt more like a burden, casting doubt on my qualifications.
– The “easy” way: A male classmate once asked a female friend, “Why are you studying something so difficult? You could just marry someone rich and not have to work.” It amazed me that someone our age could still hold such outdated views. If my friend were a man, no one would suggest that she give up her career for a more “comfortable” life.
– “Good for a woman”: My brother and a friend worked together on a programming project. After their presentation, the professor said to her, “For a woman, you did a good job”. My brother was stunned and wanted to say something, but our friend brushed the comment off. She had heard it before, and unfortunately, she would continue to hear it.
– Emotional Stereotypes: During an interview for an engineering job, I was asked a question that caught me off guard: “How do you handle criticism?” Before I could even answer, the interviewer followed up with, “Would you go home crying?” I was speechless. It was clear that this assumption, that I might not be able to handle criticism professionally, was made because I am a woman. It’s hard to imagine a man being asked the same question in the same way.
Thanks to these experiences, my understanding began to shift. What I had once dismissed as isolated incidents of personal judgment were actually part of a broader societal problem – a problem I had been unaware of for so long in my bubble of ignorance.
Learning and Unlearning
Slowly, I began to understand that the world I once thought was equal, wasn’t.
Everyday comments that we don’t even think to question can perpetuate inequality. It’s in the subtle, often unspoken expectations: a single woman in her 30s with a career is seen as “missing something,” while a man in the same situation is “in his prime”.
Now that my eyes have been opened to these realities, I’ve made it a personal priority to challenge these assumptions and stereotypes, both in my personal life and in the broader conversations I have. I’ve learned that challenging the way we think about gender isn’t just about recognizing obvious inequalities – it’s also about the subtle ways we reinforce them.
We need to create an environment where women are seen for their skills, ambitions and contributions, rather than being reduced to their gender.
I’m not perfect, and I’m still learning. But what’s most important is that I’m committed to understanding these issues better and doing my part to create change. I believe that by questioning outdated beliefs and challenging assumptions, we can begin to change the narrative, not just for ourselves, but for generations to come.
I hope that by sharing my experiences, I encourage others to think about their own bubbles and start asking the hard questions. Change doesn’t happen overnight, but the more we engage in these conversations, the closer we get to a world where gender no longer dictates our opportunities or defines our worth.
Here’s to bursting bubbles,
Rebe
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