Long-haul trucking tougher for women
Yet drivers still face harassment in male-dominated field
Along with travel grind, female drivers deal with sexism, sexual harassment
IYUMA, Ariz. ngrid Brown had already piloted her big rig from the maddening rush-hour traffic of Southern California to the desert vistas of Arizona when she pulled into the grimy freight terminal. ❚ A chorus of idling diesel engines rumbled as rows of male truckers whiled away time in their cabs, waiting for their refrigerated trailers to be filled with pallets of lettuce, green onions, cilantro, parsley and other produce.
Never one to fade into the crowd, 5foot 2-inch Brown, dressed in blue jeans and a green plaid shirt, hopped out of her 80-foot-long truck and marched into the chilly warehouse. She watched a gang of men wearing thick parkas and steering forklifts, silently
willing them to load her trailer, headed East. Brown, 57, was the only woman in sight.
After repeating the process at three other terminals, Brown let out a sigh of satisfaction: Her truck was full. She was ready for the road.
Brown is a cross-country big-rig driver, a veteran in a field that is increasingly hoping to attract more women at a time when the industry faces a steep worker shortage as it tries to keep up with America’s crushing demand for goods, from steaks to big-screen TVs. The American Trucking Associations estimated a shortage of about 60,000 drivers at the end of 2018, prompting trucking firms to seek out new pools of recruits, whether its veterans, immigrants or women.
For men on the road, life is tough, but for women, it’s harder. Far from family and friends, they are forced to grapple with sexism, sexual harassment, personal safety, hygiene and an overall
trucker lifestyle associated with poor health while trying to turn a space the size of a backyard shed into a rolling home on wheels, sometimes for weeks per outing.
They describe a work environment that requires them to watch out for sexual predators, confront inappropriate male co-workers and care for children or elderly parents while thousands of miles from home.
Brown, who owns her tractor-truck, takes her own precautions when it comes to safety. She tries to park in the front line of trucks, not the last, when spending the night at a stop. She doesn’t walk between trailers where she can’t easily be seen. And she tries to park in a way that gives her a direct line to walk to a truck stop.
She said she was lucky, receiving some counseling from other drivers about how to be safe when she started driving more than three decades ago. Some of her rules are hard and fast: “You can be friendly, but don’t invite someone in the cab of your truck and don’t get in theirs.”
More women are joining her on the battlefield that is life on the open road. Women made up 6.2 percent of all truck drivers as of 2017, up from 4.9 percent in 2008, the ATA reports – still a pittance considering they make up almost half the U.S. workforce. America’s 217,000 long-haul women truckers come to the job for a variety of rea“He sons. Some are lured by the money, with the industry reporting an average annual salary of about $53,000 as of last year, up $7,000 in five years.
Dart Transit, a big trucking company based in Eagan, Minnesota, has sought out women with targeted advertising, social media posts and testimonials, said Wendy Bartz, the company’s recruiting director. Along with veterans, she said women mark the biggest potential new pool for new job candidates.
“It’s that women are seeing other women doing it and saying ‘I should do that,’” said Ellen Voie, CEO of the Women In Trucking Association, a support group based in Plover, Wisconsin.
Tami Mendoza Clark,
49, started driving Dart’s big rigs more than four years ago. She cared for her Vietnam veteran father for 15 years. When he died, she was in debt and on the verge of losing her house. Becoming a truck driver allowed her to pay her debts.
“It’s a good field to get into but a hard life,” said Clark. “I needed to find a career to make decent money.”
Trucking can be dirty, difficult work. Clark said doesn’t mind the grime or eating meals in the truck. She grew up a tomboy, riding horses.
It’s the harassment that’s difficult to live with.
She remembers the time out on the road when a driver got on his CB radio and said, “there goes a woman, watch out!” Then there was the time she encountered an older male driver at a truck stop.
said, ‘you women – you all ought to be a home raising the kids and cookin’ the dinner and taking care of your man.’ I kind of looked at him ... I said, ‘I appreciate your opinion, sir, but my kids are grown and I don’t have a husband.’”
Clark, who drives solo, said she doesn’t take chances when it comes to personal safety. She loops her seat belts through the door handles and locks them for extra protection from an intruder. She knows to count on a continuous blast of her truck’s horn to summon other drivers to her aid. Until she became more comfortable with life on the road, she said she used to sleep with a baseball bat at truck stops.
“I never had any problems, thank God,” said Clark.
She has come close, however. Recently, she said she had to call 911 after someone pulled on the door handle of her parked truck.
Asked to rate how safe they felt on the job on a scale of one to 10, women truck drivers responding averaged 4.4, a survey commissioned by Women in Trucking found. The organization said it has been urging truck stops to install better lighting, more surveillance and fencing.
Some harassment cases become lawsuits. CRST Expedited, a unit of a big trucking company, is still hashing one out filed by three women in 2015. The suit alleges the women were harassed by male driving partners as part of a team driving arrangement to allow trucks to stay on the highway longer and reach their destinations faster.
CRST said through its attorney that it takes harassment allegations seriously. It said it has stepped up efforts to have harassment reported and has about twice the industry average for women among its drivers.
The hazards of truck driving go beyond personal safety. Big-rig driving is listed among the most dangerous occupations in 2017 by the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. Some 840 truckers died that year, the highest number for the category since the BLS started keeping track in 2003.
Data show women truck drivers generally are safer than men. Experts think it’s because they are less likely to take risks.
“They have considerably fewer crashes,” said Dan Murray, vice president for the American Transportation Research Institute, which released a study on the issue in July.
The risk to truckers, both male and female, isn’t just crashes. It’s also lifestyle. A 2015 study published by the Centers for Disease Control found more than two-thirds were obese. About half were smokers, more than twice what’s found in the general population. And although they face mandated rest periods, about one in four were averaging less than six hours of sleep a night.
The industry is still figuring out how to make room for the new women drivers. When Brown started in longhaul trucking, she said she knew of six other women drivers. Now, they are a more common sight.
Women, Brown said, have to put themselves ahead of the job at times.
“You take care of yourself first and foremost. There is no load more important,” she said.
Brown said she is happy doing things her own way, even though she’s not one to think of herself as breaking barriers. She will tell you that she, like all the men, are just out there to do a job.
Grabbing the steering wheel with both hands for emphasis, Brown said, “This doesn’t have a clue what gender is holding it.”
Tami Mendoza Clark, big-rig driver
“It’s a good field to get into but a hard life.”