Lessons from Dr. Taylor Swift: What The Man Taught Me About Surviving in Construction (and Myself)

There’s a special kind of exhaustion that comes from trying to fit into a space that wasn’t built for you.

And when I first started working in construction, that exhaustion hit before I even stepped on site.

Every morning, I’d sit in my car, mentally preparing myself for the day.

Not for the work itself, but for everything around it.

Would today be the day someone talked over me?

Would I get grilled for asking a question while someone else got praised for “being keen”?

Would I be too quiet?

Too confident?

Too much?

So before I got out of the car, I did the one thing that gave me even a shred of power back.

I blasted The Man by Taylor Swift.

It wasn’t just a song. It was a psychological reset.

A one-person pep talk disguised as a pop anthem.

And over time, I realised this song wasn’t just helping me survive the day.

It was teaching me how to navigate a world that still doesn’t quite know what to do with a woman or non-binary person who shows up strong, skilled, and not sorry about it.

So in honour of Dr. Swift and the construction site soundtrack that got me through, here are a few field-tested lessons The Man taught me.

Lesson 1: If I Take Charge, I’m “Pushy.” If He Does It, He’s a Natural Leader

“I’d be a fearless leader. I’d be an alpha type.”

Confidence is a tightrope in this industry.

Speak up and you’re bossy.

Hold back and you’re unqualified.

Give direction and you’ve got an attitude.

Take direction and you lack initiative.

Love that for us.

I learned quickly that being seen as competent wasn’t enough.

It had to be packaged the right way.

Calm but not cold.

Assertive but not aggressive.

Direct but with a smile.

Meanwhile, I’d watch men walk onto site, throw out a half-baked plan with full confidence, and get praised for their “natural leadership.”

Me? I’d second guess my phrasing, tone, and facial expression and still get asked if I was “alright” afterward.

The Man made me laugh the first time I heard it, because I didn’t know whether to scream, cry, or start taking notes.

Lesson 2: I Hustled for It, But Still Got Told I Hadn’t Earned It

“They’d say I hustled, put in the work. They wouldn’t shake their heads and question how much of this I deserve.”

I’ve never waited around to be chosen.

If there was something to learn, I asked for it.

If there was room to grow, I made sure they knew I wanted in.

I wasn’t shy about it and I wasn’t sorry.

And when the opportunity finally came, it wasn’t a surprise.

I’d been working toward it.

But apparently not everyone got the memo.

“She’s getting special treatment.”

“She hasn’t earned it.”

“That’s not fair.”

Right. Because me asking for the thing, working for the thing, and then actually getting the thing must be some kind of scandal.

Meanwhile, the guys who got handed training just for sticking around long enough?

Radio silence.

It wasn’t that people didn’t see the work.

It’s that they didn’t believe I was allowed to benefit from it.

And that’s what The Man nailed.

Because I did hustle. I did put in the work.

But the second I moved forward, the conversation wasn’t about effort.

It was about whether I was allowed to be there at all.

Lesson 3: Silence Isn’t Safety. It’s Just Quieter Failure

“I’m so sick of running as fast as I can, wondering if I’d get there quicker if I was a man.”

For a while, I played the game.

I laughed at the jokes, kept my feedback to myself, and convinced myself that if I just worked hard enough, everything else would fall into place.

Spoiler: it didn’t.

I thought I was being strategic.

Turns out I was just disappearing.

Because silence didn’t keep me safe.

It just kept me stuck.

And eventually, I had to ask myself the hard question.

Why am I working this hard to stay in a space that keeps trying to make me smaller?

That’s when The Man stopped being background music and started sounding like a manifesto.

What if I stopped trying to belong in a broken system and started building something new instead?

Lesson 4: If You Can’t Find the Crew You Need, Start Your Own

That’s what Amarapave is.

It’s the crew I needed when I first started.

The kind of workplace where no one has to shrink to fit.

Where trust is the default and training isn’t a reward, it’s a right.

We don’t want perfect.

We want curious, honest, determined.

People who want to learn, not perform.

And no, we don’t blast Taylor Swift on every job, but if someone queues The Man?

No one’s skipping it.

Final Exam: What Dr. Swift Wants You to Know

This trade is tough.

But you know what’s tougher?

Doing the work and having to explain why you deserve to be there every single day.

So if you’re tired, overthinking everything, or quietly wondering if you’re the only one feeling this way.

You’re not imagining it.

You’re not the problem.

And you’re definitely not alone.

Crank the volume. Lace up your boots.

And know this: there’s a crew out there being built with you in mind.

Swifties in steel caps… we see you.

Written By: Ash MacMahon (Field Director & Co-Founder)