Editor:
Recently, my climbing partner and I set-up for her to lead a short, very easy pitch of ice in Kananaskis.
We shared the waterfall with another party, two male climbers. As she skillfully led up the pitch, one of them —completely thrilled— shouted “wow, you’re really doing great!”
Now I realize this sounds innocuously sweet, but in this well-intentioned comment, he revealed his utter surprise in seeing her perform competently. He revealed an unconscious bias.
In my 14 years of climbing experience, there is a consistent theme: when I climb in an all-female team, we are regularly assumed incompetent until proven otherwise. This is different for males, who generally are assumed competent until proven otherwise.
The difference is subtle, but powerful. This difference can make the difference, in mentorship opportunities, personal confidence to push one’s limits, to put oneself in positions of discomfort and growth.
When a peer group consistently assumes “you can’t," it tests one’s confidence. It can steal away precious mental and emotional energy that would otherwise be funnelled into the pursuit of excellence.
I have treasured climbing partners in my life, females and males, that do not see my sex. They see me. They see my competence, and they put their lives in my hands when we climb.
These are the people I hold near and dear. And general attitudes are changing – it has been a few years since someone asked if a boyfriend taught me to climb – but there continues to be a persistent belief that women are fundamentally incompetent, particularly in domains historically restricted to male-bodies.
Factor in the intersectionality of ethnicity, sexuality, ability, and the fact that sex is not binary ... well, we would need the whole newspaper.
Currently my days are largely spent in the mountains, through which I carry my sex everywhere. The thing about privilege is its ability to move through the world unexamined.
I don’t regularly think about my ethnicity, sexuality, or ability as a climber because they align with the projected standard of “normal” in the sport. However, I am constantly reminded that I am a female climber and with this the baggage that comes with that distinction.
To all those that move through the community as just “climbers,” without the adjectives, I would encourage you to ask yourself when next interacting with others: “would I perceive and engage with this person differently if they were more like me?”
Bree Kullman,
Canmore
