Thirty-five years ago President Carter issued two executive orders, part of a broad campaign to support equality in the workplace and open career opportunities. The orders set goals for roughly 25% of skilled trades apprentice classes to be filled by women, and goals (that increased each year) for hiring women on federally funded construction jobs. Three decades later, the actual number is an order of magnitude smaller—roughly 2.5%. While other historically male occupations have seen dramatic changes, the percentage of women in skilled trades construction jobs has remained virtually unchanged since the early 1980s. On Equal Terms explores this discrepancy between policy goals and policy outcome.
On Equal Terms is an extraordinary mixed media installation by artist, poet and electrician Susan Eisenberg—on view in NYC during October 2013.
“Hanging In, Solo (So What’s It Like To Be the Only Female on the Job?)”
“Remembering the Fire at Triangle Shirtwaist”
From the start, the tradeswomen’s movement had an active culture. Female plumbers, electricians, carpenters, ironworkers, and truck drivers reflected on their experiences through poetry, film, photographs, books, a quarterly national magazine, music and parties. And, of course, T-shirts. These wonderful graphics give us a sense of the images and ideas—the labor art—circulating during the decades women have been organizing for the right to work at construction jobs.
The valve tags on the Stella sculpture were handwritten by tradeswomen in response to the question, “How have you been labeled on jobs?” Susan Eisenberg has been gathering these for more than two decades The tags evoke the contradictory, often lonely, experiences of a skilled woman working at a construction job site.
1st Midwest Tradeswomen Conference, 1991 Artist unknown.
Women in Trades Fair, 1998, Portland, Oregon Artist unknown.
A Woman’s Place is in Her Union—NYC District Council of Carpenters Artist unknown. The back of the shirt reads: UBC [United Brotherhood of Carpenters] Women’s Conference October 3–6, 2002 Las Vegas. The image is from World War II, originally used with the slogan “We Can Do It,” made to urge women to roll up their sleeves and do jobs left behind by men fighting overseas.
Women in the Trades. Undated. Artist Max Dashu. Note the tools that make up the letters, including trowels, saws, hammers, calipers, protractors and more.
WITT National Network / Le réseau national. Undated. Artist Claire Kujundzic.
Women in Trades Career Fair. 2007 Artist unknown.
Women Building California and the Nation. Undated Artist unknown. Note the hardhat over the symbol for female, and the nails, screws, clamps and other implements that make up the lettering.
Valve tag Detail from Stella sculpture. The dozens of tags on Susan Eisenstein’s Stella sculpture were filled out by tradeswomen—writing down words they hear about themselves—on the job. These three read: “cute young thing,” “fat cow,” and “don’t belong here.”
Valve tag Detail from Stella sculpture. The dozens of tags on Susan Eisenstein’s Stella sculpture were filled out by tradeswomen—writing down words they hear about themselves—on the job. These two read: “MS Bitch” and “Blow Queen.
Valve tag Detail from Stella sculpture. The dozens of tags on Susan Eisenstein’s Stella sculpture were filled out by tradeswomen—writing down words they hear about themselves—on the job. These two read: “THE BROAD” and “too intense.
Valve tag Detail from Stella sculpture. The dozens of tags on Susan Eisenstein’s Stella sculpture were filled out by tradeswomen—writing down words they hear about themselves—on the job. This one reads: “WORTHLESS.”
Valve tag Detail from Stella sculpture. The dozens of tags on Susan Eisenstein’s Stella sculpture were filled out by tradeswomen—writing down words they hear about themselves—on the job. These two read: “SHORTY” and “R U HERE FOR THE MEN OR THE (easy) MONEY?.
Valve tag Detail from Stella sculpture. The dozens of tags on Susan Eisenstein’s Stella sculpture were filled out by tradeswomen—writing down words they hear about themselves—on the job. This one reads: “I’m Going to Break You.”
Valve tag Detail from Stella sculpture. The dozens of tags on Susan Eisenstein’s Stella sculpture were filled out by tradeswomen—writing down words they hear about themselves—on the job. These two read: “Big Mouth Dyke” and “She must be screwing the boss to still be here.
Stella Artist Susan Eisenberg on Stella: Stella, the life-size figure on the ladder in the diamond hardhat, wears the Carhartt coveralls I wore through Boston winters. The tags on her have been filled out by tradeswomen. The faces that combine for her mask come largely from Tradeswomen Magazine, a journal that for 20 years linked a national movement of tradeswomen, many of whom were extremely isolated. I hope that Stella—and the exhibit as a whole—conveys the contradictions of being both armored and vulnerable, welcomed and assaulted, alone and in community. At the other end of the cable that Stella’s pulling in, she has a partner.
Photo by Susan Eisenberg
Stella Students visiting the On Equal Terms exhibit and looking at Stella.
Photo by Emily Corbato
Stella The diamond hardhat is the signature image of the multifaceted “On Equal Terms” gallery exhibition—and a visual manifestation of an image Eisenberg used in a 1982 poem—“Hanging In, Solo (So What’s It Like To Be the Only Female on the Job?)”. The poem and the image convey some of challenges and balances tradeswomen face every day.
Photo by Susan Eisenberg
Stella A collage of photographs forms the sculpture’s face. They are images of tradeswomen, taken from Tradeswomen Magazine, a journal that for 20 years linked a national movement of tradeswomen, many of whom were extremely isolated.
Stella A collage of photographs forms the sculpture’s face. They are images of tradeswomen, taken from Tradeswomen Magazine, a journal that for 20 years linked a national movement of tradeswomen, many of whom were extremely isolated.
Stella A collage of photographs forms the sculpture’s face. They are images of tradeswomen, taken from Tradeswomen Magazine, a journal that for 20 years linked a national movement of tradeswomen, many of whom were extremely isolated.
Stella A collage of photographs forms the sculpture’s face. They are images of tradeswomen, taken from Tradeswomen Magazine, a journal that for 20 years linked a national movement of tradeswomen, many of whom were extremely isolated.
Stella A collage of photographs forms the sculpture’s face. They are images of tradeswomen, taken from Tradeswomen Magazine, a journal that for 20 years linked a national movement of tradeswomen, many of whom were extremely isolated.
Stella
Photo by Susan Eisenberg
LaborArts thanks Susan Eisenberg for her outstanding work, and for permission to use her images and words. Contact Susan at seis@brandeis.edu for permission to use any images or poems from this exhibit.
All photographs from the gallery exhibit are by Susan Eisenberg except the photograph of students visiting the exhibit, which is by Emily Corbato.
The photographs that form a collage to make up Stella’s face are primarily from photographs of tradeswomen in Tradeswomen Magazine, a 19-year national magazine published quarterly by Tradeswomen, Inc.
“Hanging in Solo” is from Eisenberg’s Pioneering: Poems from the Construction Site (Cornell, 1998).
“Remembering the Fire at Triangle Shirtwaist” is from Eisenberg’s Blind Spot (Backwaters, 2006).
The On Equal Terms installation is informed by Susan Eisenberg’s many candid conversations with tradeswomen over 35 years, and includes text and audio from the interviews for Susan Eisenberg, We’ll Call You If We Need You: Experiences of Women Working Construction(Cornell, 1998), a New York Times Notable Book.
LaborArts exhibits of interest include Sisters in the Brotherhoods and Women Firefighters in NYC
The On Equal Terms exhibition in NYC is made possible thanks to generous support from the Berger-Marks Foundation, the New York Labor History Association, and Poets & Writers.
On the sunshine rainbow days
womanhood
clothes me in a fuchsia velour jumpsuit
and crowns me with a diamond hardhat.
I flare my peacock feathers
and fly through the day’s work.
Trombones sizzle
as my drill glides through cement walls
through steel beams.
Bundles of pipe rise through the air
at the tilt
of my thumb.
Everything I do
is perfect.
The female of the species
advances 10 spaces and
takes an extra turn.
On the mudcold-gray-no-
sun-in-a-week days womanhood
weighs me down in colorless arctic fatigues
hands me an empty survival kit
and binds my head in an iron hardhat
three sizes too small.
I burrow myself mole-like into my work, but
my tampax leaks
my diamond-tip bit burns out after one hole
my offsets are backwards
all of my measurements are wrong.
At each mistake, a shrill siren
alerts all tradesmen on the job
to come laugh at me.
Everything I do
must be redone.
The female of the species
loses her next turn
and picks a penalty card.
On most days, those
partly sunny days that bridge
the rainbow sunshine days and the mudcold-
gray days
womanhood outfits me
in a flannel shirt and jeans
and hands me a hardhat just like
everyone else’s. I go about my work
like a giraffe foraging the high branches:
stretching myself comfortably.
As I hang lighting fixtures and make splices
I sing to myself and tell myself stories.
Everything I do
is competent enough.
The female of the species
advances 1 space
and awaits her next turn.
© Susan Eisenberg, 1982
Roberto in Milwaukee sizes me up, then sidles over
sideways, like a crab, asks if I’ve
heard about the woman ironworker from Kenosha.
It’s no riddle. I read his eyes, pray he’ll go mute.
There are two versions to the story,
he says, placing the bait. I bite, he tells.
She was an apprentice, had two kids, fell from the steel
and died. They say it shows women can’t
handle the business, but
guys fall, too. He waits.
I ask for the other version, the one I see
itching at the soft flesh beneath his shell:
She asked for a safety harness,
foreman said she didn’t need one.
And Seattle, the buzz about the new linewomen? Eager
to impress means easy
to fatigue. Send her up and down, up and down, up
down up the pole. Soon her arms
will just
let
go. Or,
unbuckle her belt, let her test her wings.
When Labor, at century’s start,
bronzed those bales of flaming shirtwaist girls
cascading
out the ninth floor windows of Asch—
was that not a covenant
that the sky would stop
dropping
women?
© Susan Eisenberg, 2006