Being a Female Diver...

The idea for this diary entry came about on the first day I decided to start this blog. Every month since January 2021 I've seen this title listed in my notes but I haven't dared to tackle the subject. I've been worried that I won't do it justice, that I can't speak for every person, that I may receive backlash or that I don't know how to sum it all up and offer a solution.

But then I realised that it's more important for me to address this topic than to delay writing from fear of the above. Particularly as today is International Women's Day, it feels even more poignant to post.

Before I dive in, I want to preface by stating that although this entry of mine focuses mainly on the experiences of people who identify as women, I understand that any body can be subject to harassment, inappropriate behaviour and be made to feel uncomfortable by any person. Compared to my previous blogs, this is definitely not the lightest topic...

Since working as a scuba instructor, I've both witnessed and been subject to crass comments, I've been advised that I shouldn't be carrying "heavy" tanks due to a gender stereotype, and I've even had to handle awkward situations in which male students pay more attention to my male intern rather than me as their instructor. I was 22 years old when I started teaching, and at times it was very obvious when the more 'seasoned divers' thought that my advice and safety concerns were irrelevant due to my age and gender.

Now, I'm not writing this as an attack towards men. Most of the supportive people in my life and throughout my career have been my male friends and colleagues, but I want to share these stories to give a personal insight into what is overall a male dominated industry.

A few years ago my friend confided in me about her experience with sexual harassment within her workplace which had occurred over a number of years, and she wasn't the only female to have been subject to the actions of this particular male colleague. Talking to my friend made me feel angry for her, that she shared her concerns to her workplace and had to eventually leave as a result because no measures were taken to make her feel safe at work, and this man is still working within the industry and teaching more women. My friend shared her experience and feelings on an online female diving group, and it was heartbreaking to see the hundreds of responses from women with similar stories, both from recreational divers and professionals. All of these stories made me think back to my own experience.

When I was 16 I did my Open Water certification in Egypt. I was on a family holiday 2 weeks before Christmas and the resort was fairly empty, so I thought I was incredibly lucky to be the only student in the class, receiving one-to-one teaching. This was now 12 years ago so I honestly don't recall all that much from this particular course, maybe due to the adrenaline and excitement of diving for the first time, but there are a few things that do stand out. I remember the instructor 'helping' me out of the water as I was still finding my strength when climbing up the ladder with a tank on. He placed both of his hands on my bum, pushing me upwards to assist. I found it odd, and I can't remember if I had a wetsuit on or not (I assume that I did), not that it really matters. I also remember during my open water dives he would stay really close to me, which wasn't too strange seeing as we were the only two underwater and he was my buddy; but then he would come up and tickle me, and playfully chase after me. I could tell he was giggling, but I really didn't like it. I wasn't paying attention to my buoyancy or focusing on seeing the marine life, but rather where he was and what he was about to do next.

Thinking back to my first ever scuba dives, aside from my inappropriate instructor, I can only recall seeing a starfish. Doesn't everyone remember the jaw-dropping moment of breathing underwater for the first time? Seeing all the unique colours, the diverse fish and alien-looking corals. I feel robbed of those memories. The diving in Sharm El Sheikh is some of the most beautiful in the world, and I was too preoccupied to take it all in. Maybe I blocked all of the memories out? At the time I genuinely brushed it all off, not wanting to make a fuss or create an awkward situation and didn't think twice about it for years later. But having matured and now recognising that this was not ok, I find it so sad that for my first open water dives, I was wanting to get away from the one person who was supposed to keep me safe. I felt trapped underwater with someone who was essentially my lifeline.

The thing about harassment is that it is defined by the person who is experiencing it. Maybe my instructor was genuinely trying to help me up the ladder and accidentally touched my bum instead of my tank, maybe he thought he was just joking around underwater trying to lighten up the course and be funny. But isn't that when it becomes dangerous to think in this way, to come up with reasons to suppress how it made me feel? And aren't his intentions somewhat irrelevant if the result was me feeling unsafe and vulnerable? If that happened to me today, I would turn around and say "NO", vocalise how his actions have affected me and address the dive organisation if it continued. Maybe if 16 year old me would have done that, then he would've known from then onwards that touching any body without permission or safety concern, even in jest, is unacceptable.

This experience lived tucked away in the back of my mind for 6 years until I myself became an instructor, which ultimately affected the way I taught others. As a dive professional it is sometimes necessary to make physical contact with your students for safety reasons. We are taught to hold onto the bottom corner of their BCD, to hook a finger through their D ring, to hold onto their tank valve (or next to) if the student requires guidance or help with buoyancy, and especially to stop an uncontrolled ascent. When I don't have to act on impulse to prevent an accident, I make sure that my briefings are thorough, and I address when and where I may need to assist them during a skill. I am also thorough with my hand signal briefings and am very expressive when using signals underwater, which in turn prevents the need for me to intervene physically. When teaching on land or at the surface, I make sure that I ask permission and vocalise what I am about to do to prepare the student: "Do you need help securing your weight belt/ pockets or adjusting your weights?", "May I help you to the edge of the boat, you can hold onto my arm if you need". In my experience, I have found that at times new students who are clearly expressing fear underwater do benefit from physical touch, in which case I offer them my hand if they choose to take it. For example, a student who had their mask off for 1 minute underwater reached out to squeeze my hand because she couldn't see anyone, and it was comforting to know that I was there.

Recently, I have experienced a different form of harassment surrounding being a female diver. One that is not physical, but online. When I started this blog I also created an Instagram account, and earlier this year I made a Reel for fun which received A LOT of engagement which ultimately blew up my page. I gained almost 20,000 followers in just 2 months, and along with that came daily direct messages, requests to send me images as well as crude comments. When I looked on my account insights 77% of my following were male. I just chose to block these male accounts, most of whom clearly had no interest in diving from the content on their page. I consciously try to avoid this unwanted attention by not posting anything with me in swimwear or anything that could be interpreted as revealing or suggestive. I shouldn't have to, but it still doesn't prevent it from happening. After all, being in swimwear is a part of my work uniform.

This male driven engagement made me feel disappointed. This was not the intention of me making content for fun. I'm still hoping to create a shift and instead connect with a new community of female divers through social media. I want my female following to feel confident in speaking up when they're uncomfortable, to be a boss lady in their workplace and to support fellow women who are experiencing any of the above.

In the end, I can't change the fact that so many people are subject to harassment every day (oh how I wish I could!), but I'm writing this in hope that someone reading may rethink the way that they teach a course, how they brief their skills, how they assist divers underwater, how they make comments to someone in a bikini or even reassess if their playful behaviour is actually inappropriate. Because there will be many 16-year-old Abi's out there who are too embarrassed to tell you otherwise, and it could ruin diving for them - least of all.

My dear friend is still fighting to implement a change within the industry. Her efforts involve making it mandatory that a section on sexual harassment be included in the Q&A that students receive at the end of every course.

I really appreciate whoever is still reading this. It was a tough one to write and I'm worried whether my muddled thoughts fell out in the best way. Though even if they didn't, well at least they're out.

Stay safe everyone, and happy diving.

A.