Am I a climber?

And the see-saw of emotions that come with answering that question for the last 20 years.

“There are Climbers. And then there are ‘climber’s climbers.' Melissa is a climber. And we welcome her to the stage to share about her time on Everest." The club president stepped aside as I walked to the stage with a scowl, trying to contort it into a smile. What the fuck did he mean by that? And why didn't he say climbs of Everest, and the hundreds of other climbs I have done, instead of "time on Everest"? Ah, because a climber’s climber would climb, but a young, small woman would just spend time. Got it.

At said event, contorting said scowl.

I admit, I have a bit of a bee in my bonnet about this. It is a weird dynamic to interact with- I like showing up in places and surprising people who think I am a secretary or intern. I like the look on their faces when I tell them what I have done. What I am capable of, and how it doesn't align with the petite girl they see. I like it when people compliment me, saying how articulate I am because we know climbers, especially girl climbers, ain't smart. I like being the outlier.

And I hate it. I hate that I have to nod and offer a tight-lipped smile at the pervasive tone used when the incredulous onlooker says, "You? Everest, to the top?" I hate how the eyes don't hold mine but move quickly up and down my body to survey my ability and, worse, my worth. I hate that the president of the climbing club looks at me like a novel little mascot of the sport he participates in. I hate it.

A climber, climbing. See also, me.

I try to engage with these mixed feelings thoughtfully. I have tried many things to see what works for me- should I downplay my experience and laugh and just be casual (I am the worst at trying to play it like I don't care. My face is my footnote when I am annoyed, it tells my secrets). I have attempted to be direct and precise, stating what I do and that I have done it as a professional for 20 years. I have experience and training. Neither works all of the time. I try to be curious and ask myself, "What if I am changing people's impressions of a climber? What if, in the future, no one is surprised by the girl with years of experience in the high mountains and thousands of days in crampons?” But my curiosity usually collides with my rage that I have to even think about this. Mental labor is labor indeed.

Fans and supporters of mine say reassuring things. And I appreciate it. But it doesn't take away the little see-saw of love-hate I hold for having to defend my experience, my career, and my enoughness. I have slowly discovered that what feels best is just leaning into my true self. I look in the mirror and say, "No one knows what you can do more than you. You deserve to be who you are because you know you cannot be anyone else.” So, I stand tall on the stage, wearing expensive heels. I love them because I don't have to wear approach shoes in town to be a climber. It is part of who I am. I put lotion on my hands, knowing that when the president of the climbing club shakes my hand, he will assess my lack of hardened calluses, which would prove I am a climber. I don’t care. Soft hands are part of who I am. But there is one thing I do that works best and quiets it all. I go climbing. I walk uphill slowly on glaciers. I tie into a rope and climb the rock with my uncalloused hands. I swing the ice tool. And there ya go. She is a climber.

I am still, and maybe will forever be, navigating how to deal with people's impressions of what I am or am not. Perhaps we all deal with that on some level in our lives. Doing something unexpected comes with novelty, exclusion, and lots of assumptions. But if it is something that aligns with your inner self, it is worth it to stay the course. I am a climber, and I don't need a 'climber’s climber’ to tell me so (though clearly, I would like it if he did…. back to the see-saw, I guess). Do you ever feel this way in your world? Let me know. It is nice to feel a little less alone, and maybe if we get enough bees in our bonnets, it will become a hive.