In an industry rife with conservative ideas about masculinity and mental health, these New Zealanders are changing what it means to be a tradie.
All week on The Spinoff we are delving into our relationship with the world of work in Aotearoa. For more Work Week stories, click here.
Tradies. Blokes. Tradesmen. The guys in high viz. It’s all very male-skewed, and it’s still mostly what we’re seeing and hearing whenever anyone talks about the trades industries. Despite there being thousands of tradies working outside of these stereotypes, it remains incredibly rare to see healthy LGBTQI+ representation within the trades – in fact, have we ever?
While the past several decades have yielded progress for the rainbow community in Aotearoa, acceptance within the trades has not been held widely enough for people to automatically feel comfortable or safe being out at work, or to even consider it in the first place. According to a 2019 report from OECD, it’s estimated that children begin to limit their career aspirations as early as the age of seven due to already internalising certain stereotypes.
In part, this is why we set up Tradespeople – a directory of trades businesses run and owned by women and gender diverse tradies for hire across Aotearoa that connects clients and tradespeople, and tells authentic and affirming stories that were previously untold. The hope is that when people from different backgrounds are seen as the norm (and not the token) within the trades in Aotearoa New Zealand, we’ll start seeing more diverse, safer, healthier industries.
With the support of the Rule Foundation, who seek to advance the health, wellbeing and visibility of LGBTQI+ kiwis, we spoke with four people working in the trades around the country to find out more about their jobs in the trades, what drew them in, how they navigate hurdles, and the importance of queer representation in an industry that is (slowly) changing for the better.
Elle Brown, builder
Growing up we had old hand tools in the garage that my brother and I would play with, but as I got older it felt like it wasn’t for me. When I finished school, I was a bit directionless. I knew my family wanted me to go to uni and it’s what all my friends were doing, so I studied a Bachelor of Arts and gravitated towards History, which led to postgrad. It was interesting and fun, and I briefly thought about staying in academia, but found myself craving the stability and financial security that research careers can’t always offer. I think that’s common for folks who grow up without security.
Building was something I had been curious about, but it wasn’t until I’d started to have some chats with friends who were really encouraging of the idea that I started to think seriously about it. I really liked the idea of the challenge of stepping into a space that felt totally unknown. I didn’t know anybody like me in building at the time. I did some research and found the pre-trade course at Unitec. Over that year our class built a house step by step. It was an ideal place to start to become familiar with tools and feel like I knew some basics before stepping on site.
These days I am used to early starts. I get up around six and have breakfast with my partner, then jump in the van and it’s off to site. We start on site with a quick briefing for the day, then pick up where we left off. We’re onsite from 7am-5pm, punctuated by two breaks. Some days I can listen to podcasts while knocking out more repetitive tasks. Depending on the building stage we might be in teams or doing more solo work. Framing and cladding is a team effort, with interior work being more independent.
Things have evolved over the years I’ve been building – there’s more women and non-male folks on site than when I started – but it’s definitely a male-dominated industry. We’ve got a way to go when it comes to mental health for builders, and the “toughen up” attitude is still prevalent. As a queer, non-binary builder I’ve felt lucky with the company I’m in. I’ve been open about being queer since the get-go, and that has never been an issue, but gender identity is a bridge I cross on a case-by-case basis with colleagues.
It can feel hard finding your entry point, but the right companies are out there. I recommend trusting your gut — it took time to find my first company, and I said no to an offer that didn’t feel right, but the right opportunity came along in the end. In 10 years I would love to be running a small building company that provides anyone who is passionate about this work with a starting point in the industry. I want to prioritise people’s learning and success so that together we can start to make the trades a place where all kinds of people feel that they belong and can thrive.
George Sapsford, artist, designer, builder
Like most of the kids around me in Ōtautahi, my high school experience was disrupted by the earthquakes which started in 2010. Those feelings of restlessness and internal conflict are what took me to studying Industrial Design in Pōneke for four years after a gap year dairy farming and bartending. Studying was a positive influence in the practical skills that I learned, but my biggest drive was to connect with as many new people and communities as I possibly could.
I’ve spent my entire adulthood ensuring that I would never have to subject myself to a typical day, and I reckon I’ve done a bloody good job. I’ve found footing within professional roles which require me to work toward collective goals, so I experience periods of intense focus on one project over all others. One project that I’m particularly enjoying is transforming a storage area into a functional space where we can work with other groups to lead community workshops on practical skills such as using tools, building urban gardening solutions, and upcycling recycled and scavenged materials into something useful.
My experience with the building industry was heavily influenced by the fact that I was unmistakably trans and very early into my physical transition. I had just left the last hospitality job I will hopefully ever have due to the fact that management was entirely incapable of respecting my name and pronouns. It seems funny that my logical next step was to move into an incredibly patriarchal industry, but I was luckily taken as a labourer for a company that was primarily made up of young adults.
About six months into this job I had an experience with some men that made me feel super uncomfortable and unsafe, and I brought this to my foreman at the time. He connected me with the site manager and I ended up coming out as trans to him, which I hadn’t done explicitly to anyone else I was working with, and I felt as though I was actually being thoughtfully listened to. He told me he would see what he could do, but his uncertainty definitely dampened my hopes. Three days later, he informed me that all six of them had been let go that morning.
It was truly surprising to me that I would have that type of support due to my expectations of the industry being so bleak, but it’s not just women and queer folk who desire change in the industry. The most difficult part is that the attitude towards ensuring those spaces are comfortable for everyone is still split 50/50, and the loudest voices are always the ones who are against it. This means that harassment and violence is not only alive and well, but dangerously hard to predict. Existing now in a workplace which is incredibly queer and intimate is such a breath of fresh air.
Paris Mitchell, boat building apprentice
My Dad taught me how to weld steel when I was 14 and straight away I was hooked – I fell in love with the idea of being able to create whatever you could think of. I was the only girl in my high school automotive class and I built my own mini motorbike which was super satisfying – the perfect mixture of theory and practical work. I’ve always wanted to make something mind-blowing, and boats are 100% that for me.
I usually start at 7am: the large workshop roller doors are up and the fabrication side is noisy from hammers banging, grinders sanding, welders buzzing away. Everyone is busy right from the get go. In our factory we have a wide range of tools for all processes, and they train you to use every single piece of equipment by yourself. The welders and the pneumatic meat axe are my favourites – one can fix and create, and the other can rip and destroy. I get a huge kick out of being in control of tools that can easily kill you.
As a female POC bisexual (the holy trinity LOL), this has been one of the most rewarding challenges I have ever committed to. I won’t lie and say that it has been absolutely amazing all of the time, but overall, the good experiences have outweighed the bad. I’ve come across a few people who haven’t always treated me the best, or those who question my motives as to why I chose a career path like this but I have focused on what I love doing and it has brought me so many awesome opportunities. If you are truly passionate and want to learn then don’t ever let anything hold you back and always ignore the fear of what others may think or say.
I am halfway through building my first catamaran at work which is 15 x 4.5m, and we will be starting a larger one in a couple months which is very exciting. I have a few home projects going on, like extensions for the back of my ute, a couple of coffee tables, a weight tree, an aerial silks jig, a fuel tank for my grandads motorbike and something big that I am going to keep to myself until it’s 100 percent ready. Once you have learnt how to read the drawings and build a boat you really can build anything you want, and that’s why I am stoked to have chosen this trade.
Trav Mischewski, builder and set-maker
The first step in all my days is to be woken up by the love of my life, my cat Nugget. Then I stumble out of bed and into the kitchen, where I pour myself a cup of ambition, while also feeding the cats. I’m onsite before seven and leaving after five every day. We have a toolbox brief where we discuss a plan of attack for the day and then get into it. I have an apprentice who I’m with every day, and often there is a team of other people around, especially on film and TV sites.
As a builder, I’m out on sites doing anything from new builds, to renovations, to emergency fixes. And as a set builder, the work is form-over-function. My job is to build everything from boats through to jail cells. I have built single bedrooms and half a high school. We build not only the set but also the background. We sometimes spend days getting the shingles on a roof just right even if that roof is only in the background of a shot.
My first job in the industry had a culture that radiated that classic Kiwi toxic masculinity. The boss was a real jerk and he set the tone for what was acceptable. There was a lot of homophobia on the job, I could never really be myself there. It sucked, plain and simple. I knew I could never be honest about my queer identity, I was already the butt of the jokes and feared what being out at work would do to me.
There’s a general understanding in the industry that you should stick around with the person who put you through your qualification, but once I qualified, I knew I just had to leave. Leaving was a choice I made for my own wellbeing, as well as a choice to no longer work for a company that holds values I inherently disagree with. One of my goals for my business has been to break the cycle of toxicity between builders and their apprentices. I work my hardest to be an ethical boss, one who cares for my apprentice and treats them with dignity.