Early in my fire service career, I received plenty of advice — some requested, and of course some not. Much of it was well-intentioned. Some of it suggested that if I wanted to succeed, I needed to be tougher, louder, and less emotional. The message was rarely stated directly, but it was often implied: if you want to fit in, become more like the men around you.
For many women in the fire service, this pressure is familiar.
We enter an environment where leadership styles, communication norms, and workplace culture have largely been shaped by generations of men.
Most of those men are supportive colleagues and exceptional leaders.
But the reality is women often navigate a system not originally designed with them in mind.
As a result, many women spend much of their careers wondering which parts of themselves are acceptable at work and which parts they need to tone down or hide. Some feel they need to be tougher, speak more forcefully, or suppress qualities that come naturally to them just to be seen as credible.
The challenge is that wearing a mask every day is exhausting.
Trying to fit someone else’s idea of what a firefighter or leader should look like requires constant self-monitoring and can leave her feeling as though she’s always performing rather than leading. Over time, that performance becomes a barrier to confidence and authentic leadership.
The reality is that credibility in the fire service isn’t built through imitation; it’s built through competence, integrity, and the trust earned by consistently doing the job well.
I learned this lesson in an unexpected way in 2021 when I stepped into a temporary role managing our heavy rescue team as the training officer. My first thought was, “Crap, I’m not the best at this.” I was surrounded by highly skilled subject matter experts working on heavy rescue trucks and felt significant pressure to have all the answers.
For a while, I worried that not being the technical expert would undermine my credibility. Instead, I discovered the opposite. Rather than pretending to know everything, I leaned on the expertise that already existed within the team.
I asked questions. I sought advice from the firefighters who were experts. I connected the right people to the right problems.
Looking back, that experience became a turning point in my career. It challenged many of the assumptions I’d carried about what a strong leader was supposed to look like and replaced them with something much more authentic.
That became one of my greatest strengths, and one of the reasons the team trusted me.
I realized that leadership is not about being the smartest person in the room. It’s about recognizing your people's strengths, asking the right questions, and knowing where to find the answers when you don’t have them yourself.
Today, I use this approach regularly when working with fire crews. Knowing who the electrician, paramedic, mechanic, carpenter, or technical expert is on your crew can be just as important as knowing the answer yourself.
Strong leaders leverage the collective knowledge of their team.
Looking back, I realize I was not experiencing weakness but vulnerability. Admitting that I didn’t have all the answers felt uncomfortable at the time, but it created opportunities to learn, build trust, and leverage the expertise of those around me. Rather than diminishing my credibility, it strengthened it.
The officers, firefighters, and leaders I trust most are not necessarily the loudest people in the room. They’re the people who show up prepared. They know their job. They continue learning. They make sound decisions under pressure. They treat people with respect. When things go sideways, they're steady and reliable.
Let’s be very clear. Those qualities have nothing to do with gender.
Many people confuse command presence with volume or dominance.
Yet some of the most effective officers I have worked with never needed to raise their voices to earn respect. They listened before they spoke, asked thoughtful questions, built relationships, and created an environment where people felt comfortable contributing and learning.
Their authority came not from intimidation, but from competence, consistency, integrity, and the trust they earned over time.
Social psychologist Amy Cuddy describes presence as being fully engaged, authentic, and grounded in the moment. In many ways, that’s exactly what I’ve seen throughout my career. The leaders people remember aren’t necessarily the loudest, they’re the ones whose quiet confidence inspires trust when it matters most.
For women in the fire service, this can be a liberating realization. It was for me.
The goal isn’t to become someone you’re not.
You don’t have to change your personality or force yourself into a leadership style that feels unnatural.
The people who earn lasting respect are the ones who know who they are, continue to learn, and show up consistently every day.
You do, however, need to know your craft.
None of this means the challenges are gone. Women are still often judged through a different lens. I've seen male officers praised for behaviors that women are questioned for.
It can feel like you’re expected to be confident but not too confident, approachable but still authoritative.
That’s a difficult line to walk, especially when the line keeps moving.
The answer is to continue developing the skills, knowledge, and confidence that allow you to lead in a way that reflects who you are.
Some of the strongest leaders I’ve worked with have been calm amid chaos, generous with their knowledge, willing to listen, and confident enough to know they don't have all the answers.
I hope more women see that there’s room to lead authentically, and that our profession continues to embrace many different expressions of strength.
The goal isn’t to be one of the guys. Your goal should be to become the best firefighter, officer, and leader you can be.
And those are not the same thing.
