Beautiful Hands
The working women of Alaska.
Dear Travelers,
When you travel you also learn.
I just came home from two weeks in Alaska. We were able to see a great deal of the state from Anchorage to Denali to Seward. We had some amazing adventures and the imagery that keeps coming back to me is the women that work throughout the state.
In every facet, in every job, there were women.
Bus drivers, boat captains, first mates. Women held roles that men have dominated for a solid century.
I’m still surprised by women holding these jobs (sad, isn’t it?) but I am. I also know that women are still in the minority. One woman said that she was the only female out of 50 people in her captain’s class. But there they were…and they were amazing. So talented, so smart, so totally in control. I felt completely taken care of when they were in charge; I had no worries.
One young woman I will never forget. Her name was Debbie and she was the first mate on our fishing boat. She was petite with long, dark hair. She was pretty. She made sure everyone had their fishing licenses and had all their paperwork in order while her dad captained the boat. When we finally reached our destination she grabbed her fisherman’s clothing (those orange rubber-overall-bib things) and headed out to the back of the boat.
I noticed at the start of the day that her hands were really big. They were worn with cuts. Dry from the cold and the rain and the water. Those hands didn’t look like they would belong to such a pretty, petite girl. (How sexist of me). And then I watched her work.
She set everyone up with fishing poles, baited their hooks, and maneuvered them around every few minutes to make room for others. She gave clear directions. Everyone did exactly what she said.
When a fish had been caught, she quickly grabbed a pole hook, nabbed the fish, threw it on the deck, and hit it in the head with a small aluminum baseball bat. (No kidding). She then threw it into a plastic container and gracefully moved on to the next fish. It was like nothing I had ever seen. She was like this one-woman ballet.
She was friendly and kind. She asked me if I’d ever thought about being a first mate on a fishing boat. I smiled widely and said no. I was in awe of the way she worked. Her strength. It was amazing.
At the end of the day, she gutted all the fish that had been caught with her dad. They called everyone out to take photos with their catch of the day. My fish was so heavy I couldn’t lift it all the way up for the photo. I don’t know how I reeled that thing in.
Thinking back about Debbie makes me smile. Just to know there are young women out there doing hard work and making it look easy gives me hope for the future.
I used to worry about how my hands looked. I would get manicures every two weeks. I wanted to look polished and ready for everything. I always hated going to the nail salon but I thought I should - it was the professional thing to do. I haven’t been in over a year and I don’t know if I’ll ever go back.
Now I see my hands differently. Every cut or scar is a testament to a life well-lived. My nails are unpolished and short. My cuticles…who cares honestly? My hands are strong and steady and beautiful…they are mine. I will not compare them to anyone else; I will be grateful for them every day.
Stay safe out there this weekend. Pause and be grateful for those small things in your life too.
Peace,
Kit
What a beautiful and important impression to bring back to share!!!