The ultimate goal is to acknowledge and leverage the diversity of the team while upholding the traditional ethos and pride in wearing submarine dolphins.
Announced in 2011, the inclusion of women in the submarine community was the U.S. Navy’s final, large-scale gender integration. Today, 609 women are assigned to operational submarines, serving as officers and sailors on 18 nuclear-powered ballistic-missile and guided-missile submarines and 14 nuclear-powered attack boats. As the Enlisted Women in Submarines Integration Plan of Record flexes, the submarine force may expand from 13 fully integrated enlisted crews to as many as 24 by 2030. In the interim, though, plans to maximize retention, homeport availability, and the underway experience for all submariners cannot neglect a critical factor for success: deckplate culture during and after the integration of new crews.
From the Deckplates
Showing up to our first submarines as junior officers (JOs), we wielded the same technical knowledge and preparation as our male peers: nuclear power training school, nuclear power prototype, and the Submarine Officer Basic Course. Despite resumes and training that mirrored our peers, the crew was keenly aware of the “Sex: F” in our personnel records.
We each have memories of the first time seeing our respective boats—the USS Georgia (SSGN-729/Blue) and USS Ohio (SSGN-726/Blue)—as we wound through the bases at Kings Bay, Georgia, and Puget Sound Naval Shipyard, Washington. It was impossible not to feel daunted but also confident when those 560-foot hulls came into view. Once on board, the excitement of the crew around the check-ins of new women officers was palpable, and many members of ship’s force stopped by “just to say hello.”
After nuclear check-ins, our next introduction proved most important: tours of the S8G engine room, where we would spend the first few months learning to stand engineering officer of the watch through interviews and practical experience—albeit with some awkwardness. For example, after a knowledge check from a “Sea Dad,” a reactor operator under instruction to shift reactor coolant pumps turned into a public vote of confidence. A few extra chiefs and petty officers squeezed into the control room to view the action, less concerned over a nonqualified officer shifting the most important pumps on the boat than witnessing the first female JO on the crew perform the procedure.
A fishbowl effect developed any time one of the first female junior officers did something for the first time, and that select group of JOs became accustomed to a certain expectation: Their knowledge checks, practical factors, and qualification boards for the submarine warfare officer pin required an equal standard but a different approach. Whether fielding an extra audience, overcoming the stigma surrounding female camaraderie, learning to modulate voices for clear communication on sound-powered phones, or adjusting to periscopes and equipment designed for the average-height American man (although being short on a submarine is typically beneficial), we lived through these issues, even as some crew members struggled to understand them or simply acknowledge their existence.
For both of our second submarine tours, we served as department heads during the initial integration of enlisted women, and their qualifications and first-tour experiences proved similar. Crew reactions ranged from treating the women the same, to making the experience awkward (knowingly or unwittingly), to showing disinterest in helping or—at worst—actively subverting.
As leaders, we have the pleasure of leading a diverse crew of sailors and officers who volunteered to defend the nation, and it is our responsibility to prepare them to protect U.S. national interests and, if necessary, go to war. Ultimately, every submariner—regardless of gender identity—wants to earn both the crew’s trust and the opportunity to stand watch. We recommend a three-part formula to achieve the desired end-state:
1. Lead and mentor.
2. Create an inclusive space and course-correct biases.
3. Stay conscious of language and standards.
became the first enlisted female crew to complete a ballistic-missile submarine deterrent patrol. U.S. Navy (Ashley Berumen)
Lead and Mentor
Space is tight on a submarine, so it can be tempting to excuse comments such as “I would never mentor a woman one-on-one or behind closed doors.” However, making that differentiation results in unacceptably “othering” the female members of the crew and perpetuating stereotypes. If space is a concern, find a place where one-on-one mentorship can occur comfortably, and ensure similar conversations—whether performance debriefs, Division in the Spotlight meetings, or qualification interviews—happen there.
Many engineering and tactical evaluation teams have informally noted the higher performance of integrated crews; however, without open interactions up and down the chain of command, trust and belonging degrade, which can undermine crew cohesion and confidence. While differences in treatment might not be readily apparent to all, the crew will pick up on it. If not properly addressed, the warfighting readiness of the team will degrade as certain members feel uncomfortable speaking up and providing backup.
Create an Inclusive Space and Course-Correct Biases
There is no perfect formula for creating an inclusive space, but, at a minimum, it must address basic hygiene, berthing, and decency. Specifically, the boat’s independent duty corpsman (“Doc”) must understand and provide resources to support women’s health, including access to medication and hygienic disposal of feminine products. This basic requirement becomes more complex over prolonged deployments, and the Doc must therefore work to establish good rapport with the women on board to adequately address all their needs. The chain of command must be forward-leaning and check in with the women to gauge their comfort in this area.
Beyond the medical realm, submarines have become an experimental forum for gender-integrated berthings and heads. The berthing effort is in its infancy. The number of women on board often does not conform to three- or six-man rack configurations, and riders may augment the crew for a time and be comfortable living with other sexes. Heads also flex for mixed-gender usage. Some crews agree to use the wardroom toilets and showers exclusively in all-male or all-female blocks or to divide those assets with a barrier to allow simultaneous use by anyone in the wardroom. Transit to and from these spaces for showering also warrants an unambiguous, uniform standard for decency, and the same goes for dressing in the rack for both unexpected casualty response and routine wake-ups for watchstanding.
The submarine force will likely become the source of lessons to facilitate similar flexibility in other communities, and chiefs must get past their initial discomfort if tasked to inspect and uphold standards in spaces used by other sexes.
Stay Conscious of Language and Standards
The chain of command should be mindful of language when addressing the crew. While “you guys” likely falls below the threshold for offensiveness for most women submariners, jokes about doing evolutions “for the boys” can seem harmless but sow divisiveness. Conversely, awkwardly stopping meetings to insert the pronouns “she/her” or single out the “ladies” in “ladies and gentlemen” falls on the opposite but equally destructive side of the scale.
In a similar vein, it is common to see a leader stop and correct a subordinate on uniform standards, but it is cringeworthy when a superior asks, “Are you allowed to wear that type of makeup?” A female chief is expected to know and enforce appearance and physical fitness regulations for all her sailors, regardless of genders, but at some commands, the opposite has not proven true. All officers and chiefs must know uniform regulations for both genders. If questions arise about styles and regulations, consult the base references first, then ask a peer for examples and descriptions.
It is worse when a superior goes to a woman outside the normal chain of command and asks her to correct a personal or watchstanding issue. A clear indicator of an unhealthy division, chief’s quarters, or wardroom on an integrated crew is the reticence of a senior officer or chief to provide direct feedback to people with dissimilar backgrounds—whether gender, race, sexual orientation, or even personality. Hold the chain of command accountable for conducting the fitness report/evaluation process and midterm counseling at a minimum, ideally supplemented with informal and formal constructive counseling. Every sailor deserves the opportunity to receive feedback to grow.
The Ultimate Goal
The dilemma in integrating women on board submarines is when to address the reality of their differences and when not to. The ultimate goal is to acknowledge and leverage the diversity of the team while upholding the traditional ethos and pride in wearing submarine dolphins. The best indicator of meeting this mark is the unsolicited positive feedback from men of the crew that the boat is markedly more professional, higher performing, and normal-feeling after full-scale gender integration.
There will be times that warrant addressing only the men or only the women on board, but the chain of command should work to minimize those occasions and maintain the normal introductory processes and “enforcers.” For example, on the first Virginia-class submarine to integrate, the chief of the boat (a male sailor) led a private discussion with the enlisted women because their head cleanliness reflected a double standard of less frequent inspections. He told them that accountability would rise from his chief’s quarters and used the opportunity to challenge them to independently identify and squash any instances of less than equal standards. “Different but equal” requires nuance and finesse, but if we cannot get dignity and respect right at the surface level, then the standard certainly will not uphold at depth and under pressure.