By: Jillian Barrile, Owner, Bare by Barrile Photography

In the summer of 2011, between college semesters, I was searching for a job to make enough money to carry me into the next school year. Most seasonal positions were already filled, and the longer I looked, the more discouraged I became. Summer was slipping away quickly, and so were my options.

A family member suggested I call a local country club to see if they needed help on the golf course. When I asked about the position, the man on the other end of the phone paused — clearly surprised.

“Can you come by today?” he finally asked.

When I arrived, I was greeted by the secretary and quickly ushered into a meeting with the general manager. He opened with a sentence I’ll never forget:

“We’ve never hired a girl for this position. Why would you want it?”

I was caught off guard. It hadn’t occurred to me that the job was considered “for boys,” because I had never questioned whether I was capable of doing work that interested me.

No, I didn’t love golf but my family played. The job was outdoors, seasonal, and different from anything I had done before — which checked most of my boxes.

He decided to give me a shot, and I started in the bag room right away.

That summer, I cleaned golf clubs, collected range balls, drove a cart to check on members, and helped prep for tournaments. I left most days dusty and tired, with dirt on my clothes and a few tips in my pocket.

By the end of the season, there was a shift. The general manager hired another girl after me. As he put it, I had become one of their best workers, and it changed his perspective on who could do the job.

It wasn’t my favorite position I’ve ever held — but it taught me lessons that have stayed with me for more than fifteen years.

Jobs don’t come with gender titles. If you feel curious, follow it. You don’t know what lessons are waiting on the other side.

Work ethic isn’t determined by gender — it’s shaped by how you collaborate, how well you understand your responsibilities, how you anticipate needs, and how much care you bring to your role.

Define your own worth. Don’t let someone else decide where you belong. Had I not seen myself as capable, I may never have applied.

And perhaps most importantly: your presence matters. You being there could be the shift in perspective or tradition that has existed for decades.

That short summer job set a precedent for how I showed up in the workforce for years to come. It reinforced a belief that I was capable of doing — and becoming — anything, regardless of whether it was labeled masculine or feminine.

It also showed me something larger about gender equality: sometimes change doesn’t begin with a protest sign or a policy shift. Sometimes it begins quietly — with a woman saying yes to herself before the world accepts it.

Working on the golf course wasn’t just about cleaning clubs; it was about becoming visible in a space where women hadn’t been visible before.

Creating gender equality starts with each woman deciding to remove the invisible ceilings that tell them where they “should” belong. It’s about recognizing that skill, intelligence, leadership, and resilience are human traits — not male or female ones.

When we step into roles that haven’t historically been ours, we expand what’s possible for the next woman who walks through the door. I didn’t set out to make a statement that summer. I simply wanted a job. But by showing up there, I widened the lens of what was possible in that space.

The belief that my presence matters has shaped how I show up in my work ever since.

Today, as the founder of Bare By Barrile Photography & Intimacy Coaching, I work primarily with women who are navigating their own invisible ceilings — not just in the workplace, but within their own bodies, relationships, and identities. Through portrait and boudoir photography, branding sessions, and somatic-based coaching, I help women reclaim authority over how they are seen — by others and by themselves.

Because gender equality doesn’t come only from structural shifts, but from internal ones as well.

Yes, we must continue striving for equal pay, leadership positions, and representation. But we must also examine the quiet narratives many women carry:

Am I qualified enough? Is this space meant for me? Will I be taken seriously? Am I worthy?

These beliefs surface often in my sessions. A woman hesitates before stepping in front of the camera. She apologizes before speaking her desire out loud. She downplays her achievements. She questions whether she can spend money on herself.

These aren’t personal flaws — they are learned responses shaped by generations of conditioning about how much room women are allowed to take up.

Empowerment is both personal and societal.

The shift happens when she holds their undivided attention in a meeting. When her presence is noticed on the golf course. When she stands in her truth without shrinking.

Looking back, that summer job didn’t just give me a paycheck. It gave me proof — proof that my capability has nothing to do with my gender. And that societal shifts begin when we decide we are worthy of the opportunity before anyone else gives us permission to take it.