By Cory Fisk
I remember the first time I realized I wasn’t just the only woman in the room. I was the young woman in the room. Not seasoned. Not established. Not buffered by years of credibility or authority. Just young, new, and surrounded by men who had been in the industry longer than I had been alive. Men twice my age. Men in positions of authority. Men who controlled decisions, schedules, budgets, and money—and whether they knew it or not, the tone of the room. And yes, men who did not much care for a woman invading what they considered their workspace.
There was no announcement. No pause. No acknowledgment that maybe the dynamic mattered. It simply was what it was. I took my seat, listened closely, and learned quickly that awareness—real awareness—was not yet part of the culture.
That was many years ago. And a lot has changed.
And then… a lot hasn’t.
When You Are Present but Unconsidered
Back then, there was no consideration for what my ears were taking in. Conversations flowed as if I weren’t there. Jokes landed without hesitation. Language wasn’t filtered. Not because every man in the room was trying to make me uncomfortable, but because the idea that someone different might be impacted hadn’t entered the equation yet.
I wasn’t being included or excluded.
I was simply unconsidered.
And being unconsidered is its own kind of isolation.
Being young amplified everything. I didn’t yet have the confidence to challenge a comment. I didn’t have the experience to separate what was cultural from what was personal. I didn’t yet have the language to name discomfort without feeling like I was the problem. So instead, I did what many young women do in male-dominated industries—I absorbed it. I internalized it. I learned how to stay composed while quietly deciding how much of myself I was willing to bring into the room.
Women are different from men.
Not better. Not incapable.
Different in how we contribute, how we listen, how we lead.
The Preparation I Didn’t Know Was Training
What I didn’t realize at the time was that I had a quiet advantage—a kind of preparation most people never see.
I had a dad who made sure his little girl could do what the neighbor boy did. He didn’t lower expectations because I was female. He raised them because he believed I was capable. He compared how many points I scored in basketball, how big my buck was during hunting season, and celebrated when I earned my college degree with the same pride.
To some, that might look like undue pressure on a young girl. To me, it became armor.
My dad was 6’4”, 235 pounds, a mountain man made of steel. Not many men intimidate me. That upbringing prepared me—unknowingly—for resistance, confrontation, and standing my ground in rooms where I would be questioned before I was heard.
But here’s the truth: not everyone gets that kind of preparation.
Which is why support, mentorship, and guidance matter so much—especially for women navigating complex, high-stakes industries designed without them in mind. Knowing how to work through difficult conversations, power dynamics, and uncomfortable moments is the difference between burning out and breaking through.
This is where Women Working in a Man’s World Bootcamp exists—not to toughen women up, but to equip them. To provide mentorship, perspective, and practical tools to help women navigate environments that were never designed with us in mind.
Because today, we are no longer optional—we are a necessity. And many industries are still struggling with our inclusion because they’re trying to design where we fit. What they haven’t realized yet is that it isn’t up to them.
We are paving our own way.
Learning the Rules Without Being Given the Rulebook
Construction never intimidated me. The work made sense. The systems, the logic, the outcomes—I could grasp those. What caught me off guard was the unspoken expectation that I would adapt without acknowledgment. That I would grow thicker skin before I was given room to grow confidence. That I would learn the rules without anyone ever explaining them.
There were moments I questioned whether I belonged—not because I lacked ability, but because I lacked reference points. When you’re young and the only woman in a room full of authority figures, it’s easy to confuse unfamiliarity with inadequacy. It’s easy to mistake silence for insignificance.
That’s where imposter syndrome quietly takes root.
Not because you’re unqualified—but because no one told you what resistance actually looks like.
Telling the Truth So Women Stay
This is the part we have to be honest about if we truly want more women in construction, engineering, leadership, and corporate spaces. We can’t say we want women in these industries without acknowledging that the early years can be the hardest—especially when age and gender intersect. Especially when power dynamics are uneven. Especially when the culture hasn’t yet learned how to pause.
Because today, things are different.
Not perfect—but different.
There is now an awareness that rooms are shared spaces. That words land differently depending on who is listening. That jokes aren’t harmless just because they’ve always been told. Men are now required—by policy, by training, by evolving culture—to think twice before a poor joke, a careless comment, or a dismissive tone.
That shift didn’t happen accidentally.
It happened because women stayed long enough to make presence unavoidable.
Preparation Is Not Optional—It’s Retention
And yet, that evolution doesn’t erase the reality that it’s still hard.
Wanting more women in male-majority industries doesn’t mean pretending everyone belongs without preparation. That narrative sounds supportive, but it fails women when reality shows up unfiltered. Some rooms will challenge you. Some personalities will test you. And yes, occasionally you’ll meet the one-percenter—the unsavory character who hasn’t evolved and threatens to turn you away before you ever experience the joy of this work.
Preparation is what carries you through those moments.
Education—technical, emotional, behavioral—is what builds endurance.
Understanding that discomfort is not disqualification is what keeps women from walking away too soon.
Designing the Future, Not Just Surviving the Room
Because once you find your footing, everything changes.
Confidence grows differently when it’s earned in environments that don’t automatically make space for you. It becomes grounded. Steady. Unshakeable. You stop trying to prove you belong and start focusing on the work itself. You stop shrinking—and start shaping rooms instead of merely surviving them.
And the industry needs that.
Today’s workforce demands collaboration, communication, emotional intelligence, and adaptability. These are not “soft skills.” They are success skills. And women bring them—especially those who learned early how to observe, listen, and navigate complexity before being handed authority.
What excites me most is watching young women enter these spaces with more tools than I had. More language. More support. More awareness. Not because the industry got softer—but because it got smarter.
This isn’t about replacing men. It never was.
It’s about working with them. Building alongside them. Learning from each other. Raising the standard together.
Being the first woman in the room—especially when you’re young—is not easy. But it is powerful. It is formative. And it often becomes the foundation for leadership that is both strong and human.
The rooms are changing. The conversations are changing. And women are no longer just entering them—we are helping redefine what leadership looks like inside them.
And that future?
That’s worth designing—with intention, confidence, and courage.
