International Women’s Day – Taking Up More Than Space

When I enrolled in my automotive class in Year 11, I was excited. I knew next to nothing about cars, other than how to check and top up my oil, so I was looking forward to becoming more independent with basic servicing.

I was also nervous. As someone more creatively inclined, applied mathematics and understanding engines weren’t naturally my strengths. I knew I would have to work harder than most of the others in the class to really understand the theory and practice. I assumed that would be my biggest challenge — learning the parts of a vehicle and how they worked.

But I was wrong.

I soon realised that my biggest challenge wasn’t the technical content. It was belonging.

The class began with the basics: battery ratings, how to inspect and test batteries, identifying vehicle components, and carrying out basic servicing. It was technical, yes, but I managed to keep up.

My teacher and peers were not the issue. My teacher was knowledgeable, patient, and always up for a laugh. My classmates were generally friendly.

Yet I still felt like an outsider.

One moment has stayed with me. The teacher asked the class a question about shafts in an engine. I finally worked up the courage to answer. I attempted to explain what I thought the part was and confidently said “camshaft”.

I was wrong.

The class laughed.

In that moment I felt embarrassed — not just for getting the answer wrong, but because it seemed to confirm what I had quietly feared all along. The boys had been answering questions confidently all lesson. When it was my turn, I got it wrong.

In my mind, a line had just been drawn between me and them.

“You don’t belong.”
“You will never be as good as the boys.”
“You’re just proving the stereotype.”

It was discouraging.

As the semester went on, that line only seemed to grow clearer. I felt like I was falling further behind, even though I studied at home and tried to keep up.

There was no hostility in the classroom. But the absence of hostility is not the same as belonging.

Eventually, still struggling with the concepts, I made the decision to drop the class and swap it for a free study period. I left with four completed units. I had demonstrated some knowledge, but I wasn’t confident in what I had learned.

When friends asked why I dropped the subject, I told them I needed more time for my ATAR studies.

I never told them the real reason.

I never told them that I felt like I couldn’t keep up. That I needed extra help and guidance.

For the rest of that year — and the year after — I watched students walk down to the automotive workshop. I felt embarrassed that I had left. Embarrassed that I had abandoned the only other girl in the class. Embarrassed that I hadn’t just toughened up and stayed.

Ironically, the decision I thought would erase that line only seemed to make it thicker — like a permanent marker that had already seen better days.

Looking back now, I wish I had stayed.

I wish I had finished the course.

At the time, I believed the solution was simple: work harder, study harder, close the gap on my own. But now I realise that may not have been the real question.

Instead of asking, “How can I work harder?” perhaps the better question would have been:

“What would have made me stay?”

Looking back, here are some of the things that might have helped.

• Talking openly with someone about my fear of humiliation or mockery

• Admitting I was struggling with the content and asking for extra explanation or guidance

• Overcoming my fear and simply putting my hand up to ask questions

• Asking classmates for help to create a more relaxed learning environment

• A private check-in from the teacher to understand how each student was coping with the material

• Slowing down to truly understand the task, rather than worrying about finishing quickly

• More one-on-one guidance when attempting tasks I wasn’t confident about

And perhaps most importantly, reminding myself of a few simple truths:

• I did not choose this subject because I was already an expert. I chose it because I wanted to learn.

• I have just as much right to be in that classroom as anyone else.

• Lessons are not meant to be rushed through. Time exists for questions and clarification.

• Asking questions does not make me stupid.

• It is better to ask questions early than to carry incorrect assumptions later.

• Mistakes are part of learning. They help build confidence and expertise.

If you recognise any of the feelings I’ve described, I see you.

I hope this piece helps you feel seen — and perhaps even encouraged.

Sometimes confidence begins simply by sharing your worries with someone else. By doing that, you ensure that your right to knowledge isn’t wasted.

You prove that you belong.

In fact, you’re not just taking up space.

You’re claiming your place.

You might be laughed at for asking a question. You might be laughed at for getting something wrong.

But you’re learning.

And learning means your knowledge is growing.

With this year’s International Women’s Day theme, “Balance the Scales,” we need to be careful about the weight we give stereotypes. When left unchallenged, they shift the balance of power, quietly tipping the scales and narrowing the opportunities available to others.

So moving forward:

Chin up. Shoulders back. Questions ready.

Take up more than space.

Claim your seat.
Take your spot.