There’s nothing like the real thing

“It seems like I was always in the fire truck, from the time I was little.”

Vurnie Barnett’s father was a Fire Chief in Madison Valley for fifty years. In 1982, she became an official member of the Madison Valley Rural Fire Department, marking the beginning of a seventeen-year career, four of which were spent as Assistant Chief. We sat down on a spring afternoon following one of the warmest and driest winters in Montana history. As a volunteer firefighter and Assistant Chief in Harrison, I felt honored to have this time with her.

In the U.S., women currently make up approximately 11% of all volunteer firefighters. In small communities, 53% of volunteer firefighters are over 40 years of age, with the national average hovering around 49 years. Statistics for women firefighters during the era of Vurnie’s service are harder to pin down; what seems clear is that women did not enter the fire service in any significant numbers until after the 1970s. Ms. Barnett was ahead of her time. When her father announced to her that she was to become the new secretary for the fire department, she announced to him that she accepted, as long as she became a full-fledged member of the department, making her the sole woman. She’d already had years of invaluable training; her father sent a fifteen-year-old Vurnie and her eight-year-old sister into a tight space under a bridge with a hose to douse flames in a spot too tight for the other firefighters.

As Vurnie gave voice to the challenges she faced as a woman firefighter; I was struck by how many remain unchanged. The physical deficit is frustrating and insurmountable:

“You start wrestling a fire hose with 50 pounds of pressure behind it and you’re the only one that’s got a hold of the hose, and, you know, you’re not going to be able to control it as well.”

PPE remains a challenge for women firefighters. Gender specific gear exists today but remains out of most rural and frontier departments’ budgets. It’s hard enough to climb in and out of trucks in marshmallow-like turnouts; when you’re in one that’s not a correct fit, it actually becomes more dangerous.

“I’ve got dinky feet,” Vurnie says. “When they went to order my boots, they said ‘You want what size?!?’”

One of the most important questions I wanted to ask Vurnie was how she was treated by her male counterparts, especially after her promotion. Ms. Barnett is a direct lady. I wanted to know how she handled conflict; did she internalize it, or did she push back and risk being stereotyped as an overly sensitive woman? She explained that her reaction was situation-dependent; if she knew where the disrespect was coming from, she was inclined to ignore it. Other times, she had to make it clear that no one had the ability to walk all over her.

“The thing that gave me the most ability to be respected was…. I was the teacher.”

This resonated with me. At the heart of rural fire service are the people who devote themselves to it. We bring skills from our regular lives to the station, and we share and apply them. If we fail, we forgive each other and try harder. We are equalized by demanding, dangerous situations. We go to as many trainings as we can. We aren’t paid to do a risky job that often wakes us in the middle of the night. Part of our service is to care for each other and lift each other up. Ms. Barnett recounts her father working with the sheriff to use the fire department for community service for offenders. She tells stories of young people whose life trajectories were changed by the work they did there.

If you had told me thirty years ago that I, a prep-school girl from the east with a nervous disposition, would become a rural firefighter, I would have told you that the odds were better that I become a trapeze artist. As an only child, with no remaining family, I suddenly had the brothers I always wanted. They are the best part of the job. Like Vurnie, I am the sole woman on our department, and when I ask her what the best part of her career was, she says it was the guys. The bonds and mutual respect are different from what you forge with coworkers. These people are here only because they want to be and because they feel that call to service.

One of my friends is a US Army Colonel. When I told her I wanted to interview Vurnie, she recommended I ask a question posed to generals: “What keeps you up at night?” Vurnie considers the question.

“With a situation like this year, it still bothers me. We have not gotten the moisture. If something were to happen, I’d be across the street in a heartbeat, saying, if you need extra help, I can help.”

“It never goes away, does it?” I asked.

“No, “she said firmly. “Once you’re a firefighter, you’re always a firefighter.”