Profiles

The definition of profiling (in my opinion) is one culture judging another culture. I walk into Safeway, with my “Xtratufs”, tattoos and purple hair, feeling the judgmental glances from stereotypical soccer moms. However, when my husband and I drive to Portland for the day, we’re undoubtedly accepted. Something that is accepted in one culture may not be in another. Fuck, it’s as simple as that, but why do we still profile one another? I am guilty like any other human of committing such a pointless act. Maybe to justify are own culture? The older I get, the extent of my knowledge on other cultures increases and allows me to pause before judging. Even though I feel I‘m open minded I still profile. An issue that crosses my mind more often since I’ve began this career.  

Living on a boat for several days at a time, several times a month, you really get to know the people that sleep, eat and live in the same small quarters.  4 people, each with their different backgrounds, beliefs and experiences. The space we occupy for a few days has no room for profiling. We laugh at the same stupid shit, eat the same food, drink the same water and use the same toilet paper to wipe our ass. Growing up in Ireland for practically half my life, my cultural background is a continent away from those I sleep above, in my small but comfortable bunk bed. My level of intelligence (that is really only defined by my educational opportunities) doesn’t mean shit to them. It certainly doesn’t stop me from cracking up at their jokes and appreciating their outlook on life. For the first time in my life, I can truly say I have not judged them, put them in a stereotype box or made assumptions on how they look. On a boat, we all look like we’re homeless; wearing the same clothes with unwashed hair and skin, home to many fish scales. It’s because we’re all human and far from the rules of society. The moment we arrive back on land, we are again segregated back into our cultures. Even though I claimed that I didn’t judge them by appearance, I was shocked to see the expensive car and motorcycle parked outside the fish plant. I realized that deep down in my subconscious, I had profiled them. 

 Most girls my age, walking down a dark alley way, would be nervous crossing paths with either of the crew members. Why, because of how they look? It’s the society we live in that’s fucking with our minds, making us feel afraid of anything that isn’t familiar to us. I am not innocent of thinking that harassment could be a reality from a crew member. However, this is before my first experience living with fishermen and realizing that I had nothing to worry about. That doesn’t mean that will always be the case, but the crew member who makes me feel uncomfortable, may be the one person I wouldn’t feel nervous crossing paths with in another situation.

There are so many stereotypes of fishermen. Drug users, lacking in education and in and out of prison are only just but a few. Most people tie them up with the lack of education rope. I know many educators who have alcohol problems, drug problems and have inappropriate behavioral tendencies. I know people who are covered in tattoos and never graduated high school that have better moral standards then youth pastors. The stereotype doesn’t end with fishermen; observers are put into a category as well by the fishing industry. With our opportunities in education and the big words we use to impress those around us, we are pretentious brats who are trying to save the world. However, I was nervous about being profiled when I began training, my arms tattooed, my hair dyed purple, the bright yellow bug I zip around in and “fuck” being a prominent word in my vocabulary. Like I had expected, I was fucking profiled. However, I only felt this from my peers and not from those who had already been submersed in this industry. The complete opposite of what I had expected. My peers quickly came to the realization that they shouldn’t have put me in a box. Having conversations with them, who were also well educated about other cultures, enlightened me. We all fucking profile and I think most of us don’t realize we are and there are those who are in denial. Information can be a powerful tool, but it seems our opinions tend to suffocate what we know and make us believe otherwise.

 Next time I see someone profiling me, I want to go up to them and show them a photo of my degree in BSc, but who am I kidding? I’m not here to save the fucking world. The middle finger will have to do (in my mind of course).