It’s 2024, why am I still telling you to stop touching me?
Jayde Atchison (she/her) // Opinions Editor
Celina Zhong // Illustrator
As of 2024, aviation is a pretty diverse industry—there is a good mix of women, men and non-binary folks helping people get to where they’re going. In what used to be a fairly male-dominated world, we are seeing many more pilots who are women, and a majority of flight attendants who are women (at least where I work).
It feels pretty damn special to work alongside women for most of my shifts. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the company of my male colleagues, but I feel a sense of connection with the crew members that know how I feel on a daily working basis. They understand my eye rolls in the aisle when someone is being too weird or creepy. If I storm into the back galley, ranting about the guy that just grabbed my ass, they don’t try and downplay the event.
Not every male flight attendant would react that way, but it happens more often than I would like it to. Comments spill out of their mouth like an unexpected sneeze—maybe you misinterpreted his joke; don’t overreact, he wasn’t being serious; take it as a compliment; jeez, what’s the big deal, men aren’t allowed to make a move anymore?
I’ve heard those, and worse, coming from other employees around me. It belittles my experience and leaves me more embarrassed than when I started off, feeling like I wouldn’t be supported if things were to escalate. However, when my crew is predominantly women, or I have a woman I can reach out to, I feel safer to share my stories or ask for backup.
Despite what many seem to think, not all flight attendants want attention (other than during a safety briefing). I chose this career because I wanted to explore the world and be in a fast-paced environment where no two days were the same—not to be someone’s wet dream fuel. I am always friendly on board, but cautiously so. I try not to be overtly attentive, because I’m wary that people will take it as an invitation to get too personal with me.
I heard stories about flight attendants getting their butts pinched in the aisles, rubbed up against, given offers to join the ‘mile-high club’ and other horror stories from past flying days. Call me naïve, but I believed those experiences had to have run dry as society progressed, especially after the #MeToo movement.
To my dismay, last month I was given two separate taps on my butt in one day. The first time, I turned around and looked the man directly in his eyes and spoke loud enough for several rows of people to hear, “do not touch a flight attendant again, especially there.” I was forced to not sock him in his nose because I am to remain professional (even when the guests are not). I followed him to his seat and decided his punishment would be embarrassment in front of the masses. I explained to him like a child that touching me was highly inappropriate and unwanted. If he needed something he could press the call-button. He sat with his head down for the remainder of the flight.
The second time, I was a little more prepared with a comeback. I told the person they should use their words and not their hands to get my attention.Thankfully my self-defence reflexes haven’t shown themselves on a plane yet. However, if people keep on insisting this is 1960s PANAM, I can’t promise I won’t react with a bit more anger.
Thankfully, in the back of my mind there is always a reminder that anyone could be filming me at any time. That motivates me to act with grace and a calm demeanour because I never know when my close up will be. Until enough people realize it’s generally more polite to keep their hands to themselves, I will just have to keep coming up with witty responses. Any suggestions?