An Internal Flame for Firefighting

It’s been my dream since before I even knew what dreams really were… and that dream was firefighting. Being the daughter of my father, one of thee most recognized and distinguished volunteer firefighters in the county, there were big boots to fill. He’s been everything from Chief to Engineer. I wanted to badly to be fighting fires by his side one day. But every halloween it was my little brother that got to dress up as a firefighter to go trick or treating and I was rather jealous as I was shoved in princess or ballerina coustumes year after year against my will.

I wasn’t very outward about my interest for firefighting for one particular reason, that reason being even from a young age, I was told I couldn’t fight fires… Because I was a girl. So I kept to myself and listened to my dad’s scanner in the basement every time he went on a call. To join, I had to wait till my 16th birthday and as it crept closer, the ants in my pants seemed to multiply on a daily basis.

But then, when the goal seemed so close, I was diagnosed with Essex Lopresti syndrome , meaning a bone in my arm was too long. I had to have it shortened and put back together with a metal plate and five screws. Now I had two obsticles because at that point in time my mom found out about my internal flame for firefighting and flat out told me “No.” It was a punch in the gut that made me cry for quite a while. The same woman who had always encouraged me and lifted me up was telling me “No” because I was a girl!

But I held my head high and waited. With support from my dad and close friends, I healed from my surgery and waited patiently for the day my mom might say “Yes.” I never really got a yes, but a year and a half after my 16th birthday my Dad took me down to the firehouse one day and handed me an application. When I finally got the phone call from the Chief that I was accepted, I think a tear or two fell from my eyes because I had done it. I fullfilled my ultimate dream. I didn’t have the support I thought I would, but I got through any way.

So now every time my pager goes off and the tones go out, me and my dad race to the car and drive to the firehouse to gear up and roll out on the trucks. It’s the most amazing feeling in the world, being accepted in a world that is thought of as a man’s world. I was immediatly accepted by all the men there and instantly they became my second family, all of them “My Dads and Brothers.”

I stand tall in my turnout gear, even though I am only 5 feet tall and less than half the weight of my smallest male commrade. I still have the metal plate and screws in my arm, but I don’t let it slow me down. I turn heads every where I go and enjoy surprising firefighters from other departments on calls when they realize I am a girl and I just performed as well or often better than others. And nothing beats riding back to the firehouse after a call in the passenger seat, my dad driving. My mom is slowly climbing aboard with support, but either way, I know I can. My gender does not define who I am or what I can do. I am me, a female firefighter, following my dreams, one fire at a time.

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