Rose ClementsIn my crew leading days, I told anyone who would listen that the one kind of crew I never wanted to lead was a women’s saw crew. I thought it would be catty and fractious, and the one kind of first aid that I never want to have to do is chainsaw first aid. Don’t get me wrong, I love running a saw, but there was something about this crew model that put me off.
Every job that I’ve had has been in a male-dominated field, from working as a re-enactor starting at age 11 to restaurant kitchen jobs after college, so it’s safe to say that in order to fit in, I picked up some not-so-healthy attitudes. I’m independent to a fault and hate asking for help. Competence is the metric by which I judge myself and others. If I’m not good at something, it’s hard for me to a) enjoy it, and b) keep at it. Teasing and bantering with others at work is my way to get through a tough situation, and you can be sure if someone screws up, they’re going to be given shit for it. All of these characteristics served me pretty well in leading my first crew, an all-male youth crew (by an application pool fluke, not by design).
We had a great time, from learning to cook together to tossing logs into the woods yelling about doing, “Man Things!” but I came out of that crew even more convinced that a women’s crew was not for me. I continued to lead adult and youth crews for two more years though, and I started to soften up, see things better from others’ perspectives, and realize how important the non-work aspects of crew life are. Yes, we work hard and want to be proud of our work but having fun at the end of the day lightens the load and brings the crew together, ultimately making their work better.
By the time Appalachian Conservation Corps ran their first Women’s Saw Crew, I was a staff member. The crew leader was a former member of mine who had once told me she never wanted to run a saw. I was so proud of her growth, and so proud of the crew as they worked in the hardest, hottest, and most tick-infested conditions of the summer.
Far from being catty, the crew bonded over a seemingly endless parade of activities from baking pies with foraged berries, to tie-dying, to painting tree cookies, to designing and printing crew t-shirts. After that crew, I was determined to spend more time with our future women’s crews, especially since my schedule had mainly kept me occupied with our other crews that season.
While I’ve always dealt with anxiety under my outward front of independence and confidence, things came to a tipping point the next year, summer of 2021. I got so anxious that I was barely able to be in the field for a day trip, let alone camp with a crew or run a saw. After almost 5 years of corps work, it felt like I was losing my identity. If I couldn’t be in the outdoors, who was I? I retreated into office work: recruiting, paperwork, anything that didn’t require what my brain had classified as “dangerous tasks,” even though I had been doing those tasks for years. At the same time, I was working on myself through therapy, meditation, and medication, and by the fall I was able to get out in the field again, easing myself in with day trips, front-country visits, and eventually backcountry trips for multiple days.
This fall was also when we ran our second Women’s & Non-Binary Saw Crew. I had recruited these folks and was committed to being part of their training. As it transpired, I ended up spending a total of several weeks with this crew throughout the season, and while they were their own unique group, their vibe reminded me strongly of our first Women’s Saw Crew. It was a supportive, kind environment, but they pushed and challenged each other to grow. They had a dance party, a triple-birthday celebration (complete with piñata), painted their nails, and hung an eclectic collection of flags around every campsite where they stayed. They talked about periods and pee funnels, identified almost every plant and animal they came across, and came back from one hitch with “FULL REVV” knuckle tattoos in sharpie. They accepted me into their inside jokes, and I brought them new colors of nail polish. In short, this crew helped get me back on track and comfortable in the outdoors again. Plus, the knuckle tats gave me an idea, so now I have a little cutter link on my pinkie, to remind me that I’m competent even when I may not feel like it, that I don’t always have to be independent, that I don’t need to be the best at something to enjoy it, and that the corps world will always be part of my identity.
