The French Engineer — A cautionary tale.

As a crossdresser I am forced to question my own assumptions about gender stereo types. I hope you enjoy this. FD

I remember a hot morning in Johannesburg, at Jan Smut’s Airport (now renamed to O. R. Tambo International Airport). A small group of reporters and photographers were out on the apron, in front of one of the hangers.

The Highveldt air was still and heavy. Not a blade of the dry grass stirred on that windless morning. The sky was so blue it would make you almost sing just to look at it.

A new aircraft autopilot landing system was being demonstrated by Airbus. This was a hands off landing system, and fully automated the final approach prior to landing until it came to a halt on the runway. It was a pretty advanced piece of technology for the time.

The press boys were all grumbling about the early hour and sipping coffee. There was no smoking on the tarmac either. Some of the engineers from Airbus were meeting with us to talk about their innovative system and were chatting away in French in a small cluster a few yards off.

I glanced over at the suited contingent and wondered which of the engineers would make the best picture. Perhaps I could single them out and get the huge Airbus aircraft in the background. I figured something like that would go well with the reporter’s story.

There was a huge French engineer who looked like he’d been interrupted eating a porcupine, his beard was so overgrown. I could see a rather unfortunately square headed bald German, who’s head really did look like it had been chiselled square. He had thin wire rimmed spectacles and did look rather like an extra from a war movie. There was a predictably round Belgian, and a rather jovial Italian who looked rather like he had wandered into this meeting by accident.

Among the others I searched for the right face to go with the story, rather putting the cart before the horse, but that’s often the way with these things. However, at length one small figure stepped out of the group and clapped her hands and called us to order. The woman who called us to order was barely five foot one tall, and wore a navy blue Chanel suit with a pencil skirt. I figured she was probably with the public relations department, as she addressed us in perfect French accented English.

“The plane will be landing in just a few moments,” she said and we were directed to look at the end of the runway. Lights of an approaching airliner were visible about 30 seconds from the threshold of the runway.

I edged into position with a long lens and shot through the group, the huge bearded French engineer centre frame and an approaching airbus crossing the airport fence just a dozen feet above the ground. The tires gave a puff of grey smoke as they made a perfect landing — click — and there’s my French subject right in the foreground of the picture. One frame, boooyah! That’s the way to do it!

A quick coffee and back to the office. Dark room dance, and then into he newsroom and dropping the picture with the picture editor. He frowned a little and I got my first inkling that something was awry.

“He doesn’t look hot to me,” said Dave, the picture editor.

“What?” I replied, confused.

“The reporter said the chief engineer was really hot.”

“We were all really hot!”

“No,” said Dave. “That’s not what he meant.”

We walked through the newsroom to where the reporter was working on the story. Dave handed him the 10 x 8. He glanced at it, then looked up at me and asked, “why on earth did you shoot the Press Officer, when the beautiful head of technical engineering of Airbus, a woman of about 35, was there?”

I learned a pretty valuable lesson about preconceptions that day. The diminutive Chanel suited woman was not only an engineer, she was head of one of the most prized departments in aeronautical engineering. And why wouldn’t she be?

That was the last time I made a mistake like that. Now, as a crossdresser, when I think how I wish to project myself I remember that day and remind myself that as a reasonably Alpha male, the feminine side is likely to be reasonably Alpha as well, though likely in many different ways. Maybe I won’t be quite as Alpha as my French Engineer acquaintance, but she could be something to aspire to.

I can’t help but think that we learn the lessons we need. Well, this lesson was needed — though at the time I could never have guessed how it would later serve me as I look for my own feminine identity. Many things have changed in the workplace since then — mid 90’s — and many things have changed in me as well.

Fiona Dobson