Women's Work

Why the huge gender gap in the building trades?

by Dana Henry

Chicks in Hard Hats

Mark Stehle A RARE SPECIES: Philly native Karen Miller has spent well over a decade in "nontraditional" work. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

Karen Miller knew it wasn't safe. She would have to climb a narrow ladder through a tiny opening in the second story of the in-progress Citizens Bank Park and throw heavy crates to the ground. "I don't work that way," she told the young male worker demanding her assistance. "Yeah, that's why we don't want women around here in this union," he replied, as he tripped and bumped her. "Y'all don't know what you're doing."

Miller filed an incident report, and her supervisor responded by holding a general employee meeting on workplace harassment. It was a small triumph. "[The meeting] was significant because it doesn't happen too often," Miller explains. Indeed, one could say harassment of women was usually overlooked in her line of work — though it would probably be more accurate to say that there were usually no women on the job at all.

Philadelphia City Council has taken an interest lately in the diversity of the city's building trades unions. Concerned about minority inclusion in the upcoming $700 million Convention Center expansion, council members asked for the unions' demographics; the numbers, begrudgingly handed over last month by 12 of the city's referral unions, revealed what many had suspected: The industry is extremely homogeneous. African-Americans, at just 13.8 percent of the work force, are under-represented compared to both their proportion of the city's population and their proportion in construction jobs nationally. But perhaps the group with the worst proportional representation is women. Nationally, women comprise about 13 percent of construction workers, according to the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission's (EEOC) 2005 numbers. In Philadelphia, according to the demographics submitted to City Council, that number is just 1.5 percent.

Of course, the national number — 13 percent — isn't so hot itself. Despite making strides in white-collar industries, American women still don't have many quality opportunities in blue-collar fields. Traditional "women's work" (housekeeping, child care) continues to pay poorly compared to historically male careers. For, say, single mothers, that wage gap makes a difference. When Miller, who was born in South Philly and lives on Diamond Street north of Temple University, decided to leave her job as an executive secretary — where she made $12-$13 an hour — and go into construction — where she made more than $20 — it meant a new life for her and her son.

It also meant becoming a construction worker in Philadelphia, where, as a woman, she would be even more isolated than she would have been elsewhere. In Philly, construction jobs are controlled by influential, sometimes family-run labor unions that predate the civil rights movement. Their memberships reflects that history. Patrick Gillespie, president of the local Building Trades Council, insists that his unions openly recruit everyone. "Every union has an outreach program," he says. But those programs need work: Of minority groups, African-Americans' local representation is closest to the national average, and the bulk of those workers are concentrated in the general construction union, Laborers Local 332. Women don't have the kind of stronghold.

Kathy Black, president of the Philadelphia chapter of the Coalition of Labor Union Women, says one of the challenges women face in the local building trades is that few are promoted to leadership positions."You don't have leaders to approach, so these women are isolated on the job site," she explains.

Linda Butler, recording secretary for the Philadelphia AFL-CIO and a former heavy-equipment operator, believes that organizational support is necessary to prepare women for nontraditional jobs. In fact, in the '70s she helped establish a nonprofit, Tradeswomen of Purpose/Women in Nontraditional Work (TOP/WIN), a support group and training program for women in the buildings trades. But TOP/WIN died out a few years ago. "I went into a nontraditional job 30 years ago and I thought there would be more [women] following," Butler sighs. "I think there's a real void without TOP/WIN."

Miller joined TOP/WIN in the early '90s, and spent more than a decade doing nontraditional labor, including working as a conductor for SEPTA and Amtrak. In 2001, she joined Laborers Local 332. Initially, she enjoyed the physical work and activism that came with union membership. But her enthusiasm faded when she felt she was passed over for work because of nepotism. She filed a complaint with the EEOC, and claims she soon received a visit from a union business agent who tried to convince her to wait for other opportunities. Contacted by

, the agent Miller named declined to comment; a receptionist at the union told a reporter, "No one here wants to speak with you."

Frustrated by the lack of women in official positions within the union and fearing she would be blacklisted, Miller withdrew her complaint and, in 2006, set out to start her own business, K&W Safety Site Consulting. She hoped to bring on women like herself, construction workers approaching middle age with few other prospects. But even after obtaining certification from the Minority Business Enterprise Council as a minority-owned, woman-owned business, she has struggled to lift K&W off the ground — she's even been forced to cut her staff in half, and set up office in her mother's home. (She did recently secure a contract with Temple, which gives her hope that things will improve.)

A deal recently struck by City Council with the building trades unions on Convention Center construction requires that 10 percent of workers on the project be women; it also requires the unions work on long-term diversity plans with a commission appointed by the Mayor. For women like Miller, the hope is that the changes will stick. Organized labor can't be blamed for all of Miller's problems, of course, and indeed, by providing job security and wage equality, unions can be helpful institutions for disadvantaged minorities. But in the Philly construction industry, for women, that doesn't appear to be the situation right now. "[There's] no one to back you up," Miller says, "no other women to support you."

(dana.henry@citypaper.net)