From Quiet to Confident: Finding My Voice as a 911 Dispatcher
Written by Juliet Brown, published on June 11, 2024
Growing up, I tried to be the perfect child. There was a spot for everyone in the universe, and I was determined to stay in mine. The perfect little spot that society created for me. I grew up doing everything I was told, when I was told. I was an AP student in the top 10 in my class of over 300. I stayed home on the weekends and helped out with chores. The golden child so I could become a golden adult - or so I thought. Then I became a dispatcher. Here is how dispatching helped me find myself, find strength for myself, and ultimately find my voice.
When I started dispatching, I was a 21-year-old straight girl. I mean it; I really was. At first, I still fit into the nice little box society had created for me. I was quiet, shy, and timid. So timid, in fact, that my EMD classroom trainer thought that I would not succeed as a dispatcher. The first 911 call I ever took, I think I was having more difficulty breathing than the nurse. The nurse asked me if I was new. Embarrassed, and with my trainer violently shaking their head no, I admitted it was my first 911 call ever. Amazingly, she showed me kindness, and we got through the call together.
As my training progressed, I had caller after caller talk over me, not answer my questions, and outright ignore me. Once, a patient pretended to be unconscious to avoid answering the rest of my questions. Our center served a population of almost 200,000 collectively. The calls never stopped, and I only had a trainer on the phone for 12 hours. After a month and three days of call-taking, THE call happened. My caller was standing next to a male who was bleeding out after being shot five times. I get the address and phone number, push the call through to be sent, and - nothing. I wish I could’ve told you that I took control of that call and provided bleeding instructions or CPR instructions. But I froze. He would’ve died anyway, but that’s not the point. The point is that I had the ability to act and I didn’t. It was at this moment that I realized I had no voice. Not a real voice. When things got hard, I stopped talking and shut down in every aspect of my life. I needed to fit into this box that was meant for me. This quiet, shy, straight girl box.
Except this box didn’t fit the field I just entered. I needed to have a voice, a voice that commands attention, a voice that makes people want to listen, and a voice that still can find softness when needed. So I worked at it. I worked really hard with every 911 call that I took. I got over the nausea I felt and the fear of failing, and I kept picking up phones. Eventually, I found my voice while dispatching. Callers stopped hanging up on me; they listened when I spoke and started thanking me for helping them. It was an amazing feeling to have a voice. Maybe I could use this voice in all aspects of my life.
I slowly practiced having a voice in my personal life. The more I used it, the more this weird thing began to happen - instead of feeling queasy when I spoke up and had a voice, I started feeling queasy when I didn’t. I thought, “Huh. This is weird. What do I do with this voice?” The first thing I did was break up with and kick out my lazy and abusive boyfriend. That felt great. I started to check in with myself and notice my feelings and emotions, not what society wanted my feelings and emotions to be. This thought kept creeping up. “I can’t marry a boy until I’ve at least kissed a girl.” It was a promise I made to myself when I was 15 years old.
OH BOY(or should I say ‘OH GIRL’?). I knew what I had to do, but it seemed so terrifying. Although no one ever told me this, the word lesbian felt like a swear. Could I really be a lesbian? There was only one way to know for sure - I had to meet and kiss a girl. I changed my dating apps to ‘swipe’ on girls. So here I am in dispatch, swiping during downtime. My good friend comes up behind me and says, “OH. You’re on Tinder? I LOVE SWIPING FOR PEOPLE.” Instant. Panic. No one at work knew, and no one could know. I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t even kissed a girl yet. See, this is the thing about closeted LGBTQs. You must hide parts of yourself - even the small parts many people don’t realize. Before I could give my phone to her, 911 rang. Saved by the bell.
Next downtime - what are you doing this weekend? “Oh, I’m going on a da-yy trip.” With who? And the lies just tumble from there. Eventually, many closeted LGBTQs stop talking about their personal lives at work because it’s easier than telling someone fake details that you have to remember. So, I just shut down. I started to get that queasy feeling again - the feeling of shame and being unable to use my own voice. To fix it - I gave her my Tinder. “Why are you swiping on girls?!” she screams. I laugh nervously and reply, “Why not?”
That weekend my “da-yy trip” resulted in my first kiss with a girl. I haven’t kissed a boy since. But now I have to come out. I slowly peel away at the layers of my weekend to my coworkers. I’m grateful to be born and raised in Western Massachusetts. There are very few people who are willing to be openly against LGBTQs in Massachusetts because there are so many more LGBTQ and LGBTQ allies. But knowing that I won’t be harassed doesn’t make the conversation any easier. I very slowly (and shyly) started to come out of my shell and talk about dates with girls. We would laugh about the horrible ones and celebrate the great ones. Before I knew it, we were all playfully making jokes about me being the “gay dispatcher.” I realized the joy of being fully myself and cherishing these moments with my coworkers. At Christmastime, I always got something rainbow, a rainbow cake for my birthday, and anything else rainbow any chance we had.
I was in charge of a lot of training for our newbies at this point. I told them on the first day of training in my introduction, my desktop background was a rainbow flag, and everything in between. A few weeks later, my trainee started telling me about him and his boyfriend. That’s another thing that LGBTQ persons do. If someone is openly gay around us, we may sit back and assess before we say anything. He judged whether or not he’d be able to tell us based on how people were treating me! He slowly came out of his shell more and more. Holy shit. I have created a safe space.
Shortly after, we added an observation point of the hiring process. This meant that people we were considering hiring came into dispatch before being offered a job. I now had the opportunity to talk to my trainees before they were even trainees! Every single observer we had, my other gay dispatcher, and I would at some point casually mention our significant others. Suddenly, we had potential employees coming out to us while in the room! Every single one that came out during their observation took the job. As more LGBTQ came to observe, more were hired! At one point, almost 30% of our dispatchers were LGBTQ. I may live in Massachusetts, but that’s still a lot of gays for first responders. Many centers still have the one token gay. So, what made us different? The answer is we were openly a safe space from the moment people walked in. It is not identified by a little rainbow sticker in the corner of the door but by actions and words.
Next time you are nervous to use your voice, remember that you don’t know who's watching. Remember that by speaking your truth you are showing everyone around you that they can speak theirs. Remember that it’s hard to be the first person to stand up in a group, but that others will soon follow you. Continue to use your voice for those that haven’t found theirs.
Becoming a 911 dispatcher has helped me find my voice, and this whole process has shown me that when I use my voice, it grants permission for those around us to use theirs. Using your voice, being authentic, and kindly speaking your mind is what makes you a leader - with or without a formal title. So, if we don’t need a title to be a leader, we all can be leaders. We can all lead from wherever we are by simply being ourselves. What a beautiful thing that is. So, whatever you do, make sure you are granting those around you permission to be themselves. Give them permission to be messy by showing that you sometimes are too. Show them that they can show up just the way they are and that they will still be loved. That is how we make a more inclusive workplace. That is how we make a more inclusive world.
Thank you, Juliet for sharing your experience with us. If you are interested in writing a blog, please email amanda@911derwomen.com. Sign up for our newsletter on our homepage to stay up to date with 911der Women programming, exclusive content and blog updates. Click here and scroll to the bottom.
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