Construction class builds esteem, better-paying careers for low-income women
By Petula Dvorak
Tuesday, June 1, 2010; B01
Jackelyne Aguilera has had enough of hair, she told me, putting the safety goggles on her head and brushing off the sawdust in her braid. For years, she's worked in a beauty salon, on her feet all day long, endless hours, chattering customers, body aches and for what?
"Maybe $300 a week. That's what I make. Even as a manager," she said before leaning back down to tackle the chisel and door hinge she is learning to mount. "These men who do this work? They make $1,000 a week. I can do that."
It's Saturday morning, and Aguilera, 29, is among a half-dozen women who are working hard in a basement classroom, ready to switch careers to something more lucrative and less traditional.
There's a housekeeper, a couple of nannies, a lab tech and the beautician. Their Langley Park classroom looks like Bob the Builder's dream -- a row of half a dozen faux doorways, another row of toilets, an entire wall of exposed wires and circuit breakers and hanging sockets. There are alcoves waiting for tile.
Migdalia Pavilla, who is 63, swings her knee up to steady the baseboard she is sawing, so she can get that tricky angle so elusive to us do-it-yourselfers.
"It's really not that hard once someone shows you how to do it," she said.
In their nine-week course, they will learn the basics of plumbing, electrical, carpentry, flooring, drywall and tile work.
And what's surprising is how unexpected this still seems seven decades after
Rosie the Riveter's star turn during World War II. We're still not used to seeing the carefully plucked eyebrows behind the safety goggles, the dainty pink blouses fluttering in the blowback of a circular saw.
But it makes sound economic sense for low-income women to begin pushing their way into this world. For the most part, this class of women cleans houses, watches kids and waits tables. Anyone who has spent time doing any of those jobs knows two things: It's hard work, and the pay bites.
And yet this is where most nonprofessional women stay, hovering near poverty, often trying to support their children on their own.
Ninety-nine percent of roofers, who make an average of $16.17 an hour, are men. Meanwhile, 98 percent of preschool teachers are women, and that job gets them $11.48 an hour, according to a report on job training for low-income women released this month by the
Women's Economic Security Campaign.
Roofing is intense work, for sure. But have you ever spent a day with 25 preschoolers?
And although women have made huge strides in other traditionally male-dominated jobs, from doctors to lawyers to the physically demanding work of firefighters and police officers, construction work is still, oddly, manville.
"Oh, yeah -- when I get on a job, men give me a hard time," said Janaina Rocha, who has been in construction and management for a decade. She's a 36-year-old mother of four, a Brazilian immigrant whose dark, curly hair is sprouting with carpentry pencils and whose command of a hammer is impressive. I wouldn't mess with her for anything.
"They give me a hard time when I get there, but I just ignore it and let my work speak for itself," she tells me before darting over to stop two of her carpentry students from mangling a door.
"The wood has knots in it. Don't hit the knot. It'll crack the whole thing, and you don't want that," she told them.
She is an instructor at the
CASA of Maryland construction training program, and she's constantly having to reassure her female students that they are capable of doing this work. "I tell them it's not about how much you can carry, but how you carry it," she said.
The program, which is sponsored by the Washington Area Women's Foundation, is aggressive about sending women into the higher-paying male-dominated fields. Women who take part in the vocational training are not allowed to turn down lawn care or snow shoveling jobs to wait for housekeeping gigs.
"Once they undertake one of these jobs, they begin to realize that they are capable of handling work they would never have previously considered," said Tona Cravioto, senior manager for vocational training and workforce development at the CASA Prince George's County Workers' Center.
The program demonstrated its effectiveness during the winter's huge snowstorms, when CASA found temporary snowplow jobs for 43 women, who made $15 to $25 an hour.
And thanks to similar programs, more government construction work -- especially for jobs related to the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act -- is going to women. I've seen at least two all-female work crews on federal property in the District, one at the Old Executive Office Building and the other at the Library of Congress.
Hanging a door? Installing a toilet? Operating big machinery?
Mercedes Rodriguez, 43, has cleaned houses and watched children but never imagined she would do what she calls "man's work" like this.
But five weeks into her course, she's Paganini on the DeWalt.
"It's not so physical, this work," she tells me. "Now I see it's all up here," she said, pointing to her head.
E-mail me at dvorakp@washpost.com.
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