Why A Women's Night Out

I started this post in a side note about my recent varnish workshop, and it was getting pretty long and off topic, so it made sense to simply get it all off my chest in its own place.

Until the creation of the Women In Lutherie group, I felt rather alone. Working in a male-dominated field is tricky. There are some wonderful, humble, supportive men out there, but they are not as vocal as the ones who feel the need to posture, or make everything some sort of competition where they must win. The number of men (particularly in online violin maker groups) who can't wait to tell you you are wrong is staggering. 

But the Women In Lutherie group is not like that. It's empowering and friendly. And as of this moment, it has more than 600 members. Now I don't feel so alone. These women have helped my confidence, my techniques, and my sense of belonging in this field. It's wonderful.

So of course at the latest varnish workshop in Chicago, which had the largest number of women yet in attendance (out of 14 people, six of us were women), we wanted one night out together to relax and talk among ourselves.

A few of the men at the workshop expressed disappointment at being "excluded" from the Women In Lutherie dinner. None of us want to make anyone feel bad, but we're also tired of being made to feel we have to justify ourselves. We simply said, "Go do your own thing! We'll meet up together tomorrow!" It was not forever. It was for one dinner.

On any given night when a bunch of luthiers get together, it's nearly always a men's night out. They get that by default often enough. When it came up again that "how would we have felt if they'd gone off and had a men's night," one of my friends finally blurted out in frustration: "Every night is men's night!" But the thing I wanted to say, and didn't find the opportunity in that context, was this:

Our experience is different. It just is. And sometimes it's a relief to be with others who understand, and whom you don't have to explain any of that to. It's nice to be among luthiers who never ask "what wood are violins made from?" It's nice to be with fellow musicians sometimes who get what that means. It's nice to hang out with friends who went to your same school and shared certain experiences. There are lots of different ways to feel a sense of belonging and comfort. And sometimes also safety, and shared frustration.

When women get together, do we talk about men who make our lives complicated? Sometimes. And if that makes any man nervous, he should ask himself why. (Because the men who are not nervous, know we're not discussing them in any bad light.) 

In what way is the experience of a woman luthier different? Here's one example:

Any of those men in the workshop, if they were seated behind a bench in any violin shop in the world, and a new customer walked in, would not only be assumed by that client to be the luthier, but probably given the benefit of the doubt that they were experts in their field.

I am not granted that. No woman I know is granted that.

My name is on the window, I wear an apron, I sit at a workbench with tools in my hands, and still people address my husband if he's behind his computer at the other desk. I have to explain I am the luthier, then prove myself worthy. It's exhausting. And demoralizing.

I recently spent half an hour with an older man, explaining what work his violin needed, and I thought by the time he agreed to all of it that I had earned his respect. But when I was writing up his work ticket, he looked past me to my husband and said, "How often do you have to bite your tongue to keep from interrupting her?"

To his credit, my husband didn't miss a beat and replied, "Never. She's the luthier."

I know the man thought he was being cute or funny. But would it ever occur to him to say that if it were the other way around? Would he ever assume the woman was the luthier in the room? Men are assumed to have knowledge about tools. The default about women is ignorance. 

I have two major thoughts about that incident. The first is, for the occasional person who says something like this, how many are simply thinking it? That's a hard idea to shake when working with people.

The second is, many of us in this (and other) fields suffer a certain amount of imposter syndrome. We all harbor doubts about our abilities and worthiness, because there is always someone better, someone more talented and successful, and to find the balance of humility and confidence that allows us to function can be tricky from day to day. Men in lutherie tend to at least be granted a level of trust that they must know what they are doing. If they are feeling insecure, they can feel somewhat assuaged by those who walk into their shops starting from a level of belief in the abilities of the luthier before them. The average person tends to bolster their confidence.

Women, by comparison, tend to feel undermined. When your own doubts are subtly (or not so subtly) reflected back at you regularly, it makes the work harder.

This hurts everyone, frankly. Not just for women who aren't given enough opportunities or encouragement, but I've met men who are not as good as they think they are, who do damage because they overstepped their abilities since their egos were not in check. Women don't want to make mistakes, men don't want to be wrong. Both things feed into how we are perceived overall.

Maybe men don't want to believe my experiences as a luthier are different. That doesn't change the truth of it for me, and other women I know. And there are times I don't have the energy to explain it.

The dinner out with the women during the workshop was illuminating and delightful. The dinners out with everyone were also fun. Just different. 

Would it be nice if the world functioned in a way that a women's only dinner (or group) felt unnecessary?

YES! YES IT WOULD! Let's work toward that! Let's hope for that! I would love to feel as welcomed and understood and supported and included in the world of lutherie as a whole that a Women In Lutherie group could be cast off as a curiosity.

But that's not the world we are in at the moment. I don't just like this group, I need this group. I am better because of this group.

And for men who don't want to feel left out, you need to change your end of things. That's not our job. You need to help make the general space welcoming enough that we don't want to occasionally retreat from it. That's a good goal, and not just for lutherie.