Historically, the force was always concerned with femininity … They also wanted to ensure that you were separate, especially in dress uniform. That dress uniform had been men-only for one hundred and one years. A woman was gonna come in and wear that? Give your heads a friggin’ shake! There was no way we were gonna win that battle, although we tried. We tried.
—Marianne Robson
Troop 17 (1974/75)
*
The decision to dress female Mounties in a feminized version of the male uniform served to maintain the dominance of the masculine image of the RCMP. Many of the first women who were hired by the RCMP resisted the women’s version of the uniform and struggled with the unworkability of its design. The women of Troop 17 did not passively wait for the RCMP to make changes to their operational uniform and kit, however. Nor did they wait for the RCMP to invite their opinions on the design. Instead, the first female recruits contested decisions regarding their uniform by registering complaints with their troop advisor and by writing memoranda to Depot’s commanding officers.[372] Once in the field, they continued to lodge formal complaints with senior officers both at the detachment level and at RCMP headquarters in Ottawa. Many female Mounties actively lobbied for changes, including the right to wear the same uniform as their male colleagues.
Three pieces of the women’s uniform in particular were singled out by female Mounties as requiring immediate change: the purse, the hat, and the shoes. But the RCMP insisted on conforming to conventional ideas of femininity when it came to dressing its female police officers and denied most requests for changes. The hierarchical control exercised by commanding officers silenced their protests and delayed changes to the original women’s service and review order uniforms for years to come. Nevertheless, the women persisted in challenging the outward appearances that made them different, rather than equal, as police officers.
On September 16, 1974, the CBC dispatched reporter Bob Johnstone to the RCMP’s divisional headquarters in Toronto to cover one of the swearing-in ceremonies of some of the first women hired by the RCMP. Later that evening, Canadians across the country listened as Johnstone described for his audience what female Mounties would look like:
The Royal Canadian Mounted Police today took a big step, one that will certainly change the image of the force. The force that always gets its man now has women—thirty-two of them. In simultaneous swearing-in ceremonies all across Canada, the first women joined the Royal Canadian Mounted Police … At least on paper, the women Mounties are the same as the men. They’ll wear roughly the same uniform except they’ll have their choice of slacks or skirt. They’ll get the same pay and be subject to the same regulations. The principle difference is that they’ll carry their revolvers in shoulder-strap handbags instead of holsters.[373]
The purse was the most contentious issue for the first female Mounties in 1974. A purse was a strong symbol of femininity in society at the time, and it was used by many police departments intent on maintaining a feminine appearance for their female police officers. The purse that was issued to the first female Mounties was worn with both the service order and review order uniforms. It was a square, leather shoulder bag with straps that included inserts inside for bullets, handcuffs, and a revolver. In contrast, male RCMP officers wore a Sam Browne, as it was known in the RCMP, with both orders of dress. Sam Browne equipment had been developed in 1852 by British general Sir Samuel Browne, who lost an arm during war service in India. Browne designed a leather strap that was worn diagonally across the chest and which hooked onto the belt front and back to take the weight of the equipment belt off the hips. The diagonal strap also enabled Browne to quickly draw his sabre from its scabbard with one hand.[374] The Sam Browne had been incorporated into the British army uniform by the time of the Anglo-South African War, when members of the NWMP were first introduced to it. By 1904, the Sam Browne had become part of the RNWMP uniform for all field and parade duties. The equipment belt male Mounties wore held a holster, revolver, bullet holder, and handcuff pouch, all of which were supported on the hips by the Sam Browne.
When it came to issuing a Sam Browne to the first female Mounties in 1974 for wear operationally, however, commanding officers were once again concerned with the women’s breasts. The RCMP’s planning committee sought a medical opinion from the Department of Veterans Affairs asking whether the cross strap would produce breast discomfort or more serious injuries. Veterans Affairs assured the committee that no serious injury would occur.[375] In the Canadian armed forces, women working as military police officers wore “Sam Browne equipment to render the sidearm more visible” during patrols. Despite this advice, the RCMP remained committed to the idea of a handbag for female Mounties. The planning committee felt that the Sam Browne “would not be desirable,” and decided that handbags “with appropriate compartments for a handgun and handcuffs” would be issued.[376]
However, a purse proved to be an operational danger to both male and female officers during operational duties. Many North American police departments were being pressured by their rank and file to terminate its use. In Los Angeles in 1972, women carried their revolvers in handbags but hoped that they would “eventually be permitted to wear a holster on the theory that a visible gun is much more intimidating than a hidden one.”[377] Further, a handbag was more easily accessible to a suspect during an altercation than a sidearm that was carried on a police officer’s person. In Toronto, where female police officers also carried purses in 1974, Marlene Watson successfully argued with commanding officers that “it was easier to get a gun out of a holster than a purse.”[378] Watson’s resistance to the purse resulted in the eventual issue of holsters and duty belts to female police officers working in Toronto.
A purse could also be dangerous if left unattended. This was a serious concern for Canadian municipal police officer Liz Davies, who recalled being issued a shoulder bag in 1973 with a holster sewn into it for her snub-nosed revolver. It was her male peers who lobbied the police department to change her purse to a belt and holster because of the danger it posed. Davies remembered leaving her purse unattended at accident scenes on more than one occasion. “I’d be down in a ditch with an injured person, and I’d look back and there’d be the police cruiser door open and my purse sitting there. So they [male officers] stressed to the brass that you can’t do that. It’s not a workable thing.”[379] This police department relented and issued Davies a holster and duty belt along with a male uniform within her first year.
But the RCMP, while acknowledging the potential hazards of a purse, proposed that it could be secured under the uniform’s shoulder straps to prevent it from getting into the wrong hands or being left behind.[380] It was highly unlikely that a fabric shoulder strap on a tunic would prevent a suspect from acquiring the purse during a violent altercation. Nevertheless, the RCMP proceeded with its plans to issue a square handbag similar to the one being used by the Ontario Provincial Police. While the Ontario Provincial Police (OPP) issued purses to its first female constables in May 1974, they were discontinued after the first five months because they were impractical.[381] In December 1974, almost three months into Troop 17’s training, the RCMP temporarily issued them duty belts. This change in policy may have been in response to the OPP’s experience. Sensing that their complaints were finally being heard, Troop 17 continued to pressure the RCMP to issue them a Sam Browne. But the purse remained an official part of the female uniform and the CEDC set February 1975, one month before the women graduated, as the final date for a decision regarding whether Sam Browne equipment would be issued to female members.
While commanding officers debated over the Sam Browne, the women of Troop 17 were trained to use a two-inch .38 calibre snub-nosed revolver that fit into their purses, rather than a six-inch .45 calibre revolver that was used by the men and worn with a Sam Browne. It was another difference that the women thought would limit their full integration and acceptance as police officers. Louise Ferguson recalled that the troop “made a lot of noise about carrying a stupid purse.” When the RCMP finally relented, Ferguson remembered that the troop “had to retrain on the bigger guns and the whole works and graduate. We had all this extra shooting and all this extra work. It was fine. We were so happy to get real guns like everybody else. We were all worried about our credibility as it was, you know. Getting to the field and to show up with a purse—you could just see the guys would just laugh you right out of the car.”[382] Troop 17 recognized that carrying a purse would not only pose a danger in the field, but would erode their authority as police officers. Their resistance to carrying a purse was successful; the Sam Browne was adopted for wear with the women’s service order uniform in time for their graduation in March 1975.[383] However, purses were still required when wearing the review order uniform.
The second contentious issue concerned the footwear that the RCMP issued to the women in 1974. The black oxfords worn with their operational and dress uniforms were described as “granny shoes” or “Salvation Army” shoes by some of the women of Troop 17, an indication that they considered the shoe unflattering. Their resistance to the design of the shoe illustrates that there was a tension for the women between wanting to be taken seriously as police officers and maintaining a feminine appearance. Complaints about their shoes may have been a way of expressing their fear that civilians would associate their drab footwear with volunteer or religious service, work that was previously connected to conventional understandings of women’s appropriate role in society. Female Mounties were working hard to establish their legitimacy as authority figures, and the force-issued footwear, like the purse, was seen to diminish their credibility.
The women of Troop 17 were not only concerned with the appearance of their shoes. On a practical level, they encountered so much trouble with their ankles while wearing the shoes that they did not run double time in Depot during their first two weeks of training. Louise Ferguson described the shoes as having thick Cuban heels. They were about an inch and a half high, which explains how ankle injuries could occur when running in them.[384] Major Doris Toole summarized the problem that the shoes posed for the women in an article for the RCMP Gazette. Toole wrote that because Troop 17 did not run double during their first weeks of training, it appeared to some “to be coddling the female. But if one were to take the time to find out the reason for this difference, one would learn that the footwear issued was found to contribute to ankle injuries when running in troop formation.”[385] Toole’s insight regarding the shoes helped put to rest the perception that the women were receiving preferential treatment at Depot.
The oxford shoe was important for one more reason. Drill was a significant part of the development of a troop’s cohesion and discipline, and troops practised their manoeuvres in front of the public on the academy’s parade square daily. The Strathcona boots worn by male recruits created a stomping sound that conveyed authority, precision, and strength during drill manoeuvres. In contrast, the heeled oxfords worn by the women could not duplicate the sound made by Strathconas no matter how hard the women stomped. One instructor recalled that when the women marched they did not make noise “because they had those little shoes that clicked as opposed to guys with boots.”[386] The difference between a clicking noise and authoritative stomping drew attention to the distinctions between male and female police officers.
The issue of proper footwear for female police officers dogged other police forces too. Jill Ryan, who joined the OPP in September 1974, recalled that the pumps she was issued were extremely uncomfortable in cold weather. Although female constables in the OPP were issued pants for operational duties, they were required to wear a skirt and pumps for dress occasions. During the Pope’s visit to Ontario in 1984, female OPP officers were required to wear their skirts, nylons, and pumps while policing the event. Ryan was unsure if it was due to the Pope’s status or his view of women doing a man’s job that the request for appropriate attire for female police officers was made. Whatever the reason, Ryan recalled that the week was so cold that the male police officers were wearing long johns under their pants. She remembered “standing out in the middle of a field with mud oozing into the top of my little pumps while the men stayed warm and dry with their ankle boots!” Ryan took action, mobilized the other women on duty, and complained to superior officers about the conditions. “We got our superiors to agree to allowing us to wear warmer black leotards—but only if we all had the same make/brand. I remember going to the Bay and buying out all of their stock!”[387] Ryan’s example illustrates just how impractical some of the decisions about women’s uniforms were. But it also shows that the RCMP was not alone in taking a gendered approach to dressing female police officers.
Complaints about footwear continued once Troop 17 began work in the field in 1975. Some of the women wrote memorandums to commanding officers complaining about the unsuitability of their shoes for operational duties. Marianne Robson, who was stationed in a small prairie detachment, commented, “Even our shoes had heels on. I remember chasing [a] guy and running in damn heels. And then I got picked to test out boots. I mean that was the best thing ever, ankle boots.”[388] Robson began to wear the ankle boots early in 1976 and never wore the “granny shoes” again during operational duties.[389] Allison Palmer, also a member of Troop 17, had a dim view of the “armed forces–issued shoes with heels” and spent considerable amounts of time filling out paperwork to get them changed. For her, the oxford shoes did not make sense in the middle of the prairies. She commented that because most of her troop was posted to rural areas, the shoes quickly proved to be unsuitable for operational wear. “I foot-chased through a ploughed field in high heels. Totally impractical.” Palmer persisted in her memo-writing campaign to be issued ankle boots. Finally, her supervisor told her to “go buy them and I’ll pay for them out of the detachment [funds].”[390] Palmer’s supervisor was willing to circumvent the RCMP’s uniform regulations for the sake of practicality and safety, something a number of supervisors did when the first female Mounties arrived at their detachments.
By 1979, female members were still registering complaints about their shoes, although by this time they had been issued flat oxfords for operational duties. But changes to uniform regulations required the approval of headquarters in Ottawa, and on May 7, the OIC of Internal Affairs wrote to the director of Organization and Personnel outlining the complaints he was receiving about the women’s shoes:
It has come to our attention that female members (including Special Constables) are reluctant to wear the knee length skirt when employed on office duties (Service Order #1) as they are required to wear a flat heeled black oxford with this order of dress. Female members state the oxford, when wearing a skirt and nylons is unbecoming, is completely without style and certainly does nothing to enhance the uniform. The black oxford originally designed for Service Order #1 had a Cuban type heel, however, this shoe proved unacceptable as it caused twisted ankles when performing operational duties. As a result of complaints received, the shoe was changed to the present flat heeled oxford similar to male members.[391]
The tensions between the women’s desire to wear attractive footwear while performing administrative duties and their need for practicality in the field proved difficult to resolve. Appeals about the overall appearance of their uniform indicated that female Mounties understood the RCMP’s sensitivity to the image that the uniform conveyed. Although the RCMP eventually allowed its female members to wear the review order dress pumps with the service order while assigned to office duties, the flat-heeled oxford remained as part of the operational uniform.
The third piece of the uniform that female RCMP officers resisted was the cap they wore with both their service order and review order uniforms. As early as April 1974, the RCMP’s CEDC studied the headdress worn by women in the military and other police departments. The male forage cap, the navy blue peaked hat with a vinyl visor and yellow hatband normally worn by men for operational duties, was not a consideration for the women.[392] In June, the committee concluded that the women’s hat would be modelled after the Montreal City Police female cap. It would be made of felt, the same colour as the male forage cap, with a peak, chinstrap, and yellow band. The regimental badge would be worn on the yellow band on the front.[393] Although the cap was officially referred to as the women’s forage cap, many in the RCMP referred to it as a “pillbox” hat. The pillbox was not new to the police force. It had been the standard issue to men of all ranks in the NWMP in 1874. The term “pillbox” was used because the hat resembled the cylindrical boxes used by pharmacists for dispensing tablets in the nineteenth century.[394] It was discontinued as part of the NWMP uniform because it was impractical, a decision from the previous century that the planning committee should have heeded.
All of the women interviewed for this research pointed to the pillbox hat as the thing they liked the least about their uniform for three reasons: it was impractical, it was unflattering, and it established the women as different from male Mounties. Louise Ferguson remembered that the “main difference from the male uniform was the funny little hat you couldn’t keep on your head.”[395] The hat routinely fell off when getting in and out of the police cruiser or blew off in the wind. Although there was a chinstrap designed to keep the hat in place, the women found it cumbersome when putting the hat on and taking it off numerous times throughout a shift. For Kate Morton, the women’s uniform “set me up as being different, especially the hat.”[396] Morton disliked the pillbox so much that a male colleague acquired a men’s forage cap for her to wear while on patrol. He warned her that she had to be sure not to let her commanding officer see her wearing it. It was one way that Morton and her co-worker circumvented the RCMP’s uniform regulations in an effort to alleviate the impracticality of the hat’s design.
Allison Palmer used her hat to hold her notebook and packages of chewing gum while she was in the police cruiser “because we had no shirt pocket.” When she had to get out of the car she “had to dump everything out to put the hat back on. I didn’t particularly like it because people did think you were a railway conductor.”[397] Margaret Watson also disliked the pillbox. “I just didn’t like the pillbox hat. It was very unflattering … and it would give you a horrible headache.” On one occasion, Watson, who was tall and sometimes mistaken for a male police officer, arrested three gang members while on patrol. She recalled, “I think they got confused initially because it was so dark … I don’t think they would have pulled over if they’d known I was a woman. But I had a pillbox hat; they should’ve known that I wasn’t male.”[398] The pillbox clearly identified her as a female police officer and, in Watson’s mind, set her apart as being less than authoritative when dealing with the public.
Women working in other police departments in the 1970s also disliked the impracticality of the hats they were issued. Jill Ryan described the hat she wore for the OPP as a “soft-sided hat which made us look like meter maids.” Although women in the OPP were authorized to wear the same uniform as their male colleagues by 1988, their hat remained different for some time afterward, a distinction that continued to separate them from male police officers.[399] Municipal police officer Liz Davies remembered that her department experimented with women’s hat styles before female members were issued the same uniform as the men in 1974. “My first hat was sort of a weird one. I remember it was a soft hat and it had a hard brim,” she recalled. “It was an impractical thing. The bowler type was always kicking around [in the cruiser].”[400] While a feminine style of cap may have appealed to the men in charge of designing women’s police uniforms, the unworkability of the pillbox was something women across police agencies remembered, even decades later.
Occasionally, male members of the RCMP intervened on behalf of the women in an attempt to remedy the problems they were encountering with their uniform. Darryl Butler, an instructor at Depot in the 1970s, described the women’s uniforms as “terrible” and “ugly.” He remembered that by the time the third female troop went through the academy in 1975, the women were still complaining about the quality of the uniform and asking why it was different from the male uniform. Butler decided to take action and bring the issues to the attention of Depot’s training officer:
The [women complained that the] slacks were conformed for the female figure, had no pockets and were too bloody tight. The blues [tunics] they were given was a polyester thing, again with no pockets. The shoes were awful, the so-called boots they were given had no support. Their red serge was significantly different and the hat! Ugh. Why can’t they wear the same uniform as the men? So, being a bright resourceful fellow I took a couple of the better looking [women] … and got them dressed in all the male uniforms, including boots, breeches and Red Serge and had the Identification Section take photos. I prepared a report voicing the concerns that were given to me and sent along the copies of photographs to the Training Officer, Supt. Bill MacRae. Well, did he rip my face off. “Do you know how much time and money was spent on designing this uniform?” I guess I didn’t. That was the end of that.[401]
While recouping the costs incurred in designing the women’s uniform was probably a consideration, commanding officers were unwilling to allow their female officers to transgress understandings of appropriate feminine attire. Butler’s photographs of women dressed in male uniforms opened a space for commanding officers to consider alternatives which were summarily dismissed. Nevertheless, female Mounties, with occasional help from male members, continued to exert pressure on the police force to make changes.
The RCMP may have spent considerable amounts of time and money designing the women’s review and service order uniforms, but their efforts were somewhat short-sighted. Commanding officers failed to consider that many of the women would eventually become pregnant and require an additional uniform. The RCMP simply assumed that female Mounties would leave operational duties as soon as they discovered they were pregnant and revert to civilian attire. It was an assumption that eliminated the necessity and cost of designing a maternity uniform. Female RCMP officers, however, viewed the situation differently and actively resisted the restrictions placed on them by a lack of maternity uniform when they became pregnant.
In the 1970s and 1980s, some female Mounties hid their pregnancy, choosing to remain on active duty until their uniforms could no longer accommodate their changing bodies. Three of the women who were interviewed for this research admitted to doing this after learning they were pregnant with their first child. They understood that once they divulged they were pregnant, they would be removed from operational duties and transferred to more mundane administrative tasks until they took maternity leave. Of course, not all female members resented their removal from the road. Some enjoyed the change in duties and a return to wearing civilian clothes. But civilians conducting business at detachment offices often assumed that female Mounties were public servants because they were dressed as civilians. It was a circumstance that frustrated some female Mounties during a time when they were working hard to establish their authority as police officers in their communities.
As a result, many pregnant Mounties lobbied the RCMP to design maternity wear that could be worn for both operational and administrative duties. It was not until 1987, however, that commanding officers finally relented and a maternity uniform was designed.[402] The uniform was created by the men of the RCMP’s tailor shop without input from the women. Their design conformed to the widely accepted idea in society at the time that a pregnant woman should dress modestly to hide her “condition.” As a result, a maternity jumper, or dress, that had thick pleats both front and back was developed. The volume of fabric made the women feel as though they were wearing a tent that only emphasized, rather than minimized, their expanding waistline. The fit of the uniform was uncomfortable: the hem of the shirt rode up over the waistline, Velcro tabs and elastic casing on the waistband constricted movement, and the tie had a tendency to slide sideways off the belly. The uniform did not include a coat, and the force-issued shoes did not allow for the fact that a woman’s feet swelled when she was pregnant.[403]
Safety was another concern since the tailors’ design did not accommodate a holster and a revolver. According to one media account, “Pregnant officers complained that the jumper-style dress with its pleated front and lack of loops made it impractical to wear a gun belt—and therefore impossible to perform their normal duties.”[404] Female Mounties wanted to continue to wear their revolvers even when conducting administrative duties at the detachment, given that they were still police officers.
Police departments in other jurisdictions also struggled with how to clothe their pregnant police officers. In 1989, the OPP gave its female officers a clothing allowance to purchase civilian attire to wear when they were assigned to administrative duties. But like the women of the RCMP, female OPP officers found that the public often refused to acknowledge them as police officers when they were dressed as civilians. Some pregnant OPP officers who did not want to leave operational duties right away “simply started wearing their police husband’s trousers and gun belt” to accommodate their expanding bellies.[405] The women of the OPP finally took the initiative and designed their own maternity uniform. Irena Lawrenson and her colleague Joan Tonner, who was pregnant at the time, worked with the OPP’s tailor to develop a prototype. The uniform consisted of expandable pants with an elastic waistband and a loose, tent-shaped tunic top worn over the standard-issue shirt. Lawrenson and Tonner brought their ideas to the OPP’s Clothing and Equipment Committee, where Tonner modelled the prototype. To their surprise, it was approved by the committee for future production.[406]
Female Mounties, like their OPP counterparts, wanted to appear professional in a maternity uniform, and they continued to petition the RCMP for changes. It was not until 1995, however, that the RCMP turned once again to the fashion industry for help with a new design. Sandra Tullio-Pow, an award-winning designer of maternity wear from Ryerson Polytechnic’s school of fashion in Toronto, was hired.
For her, the original RCMP maternity uniform impeded functionality and minimized a woman’s authority as a police officer.[407] Tullio-Pow set out to create a maternity uniform that resembled the women’s service order uniform as closely as possible. She interviewed nine pregnant Mounties from across Canada before beginning her design. Tullio-Pow altered the waistband of the trousers for greater flexibility; created a shirt with a longer and flared hemline and elastic in the middle of the back to prevent it from riding up; added side front pockets to the shirt and a functional tie that was shorter and stayed in place over the pregnant belly; and designed an all-weather maternity coat. Four prototypes were created and tested in the field in May 1996. By the end of the year, Tullio-Pow’s uniform was adopted for standard issue by the RCMP after a few modifications.[408] Tullio-Pow entered her design in a juried exhibition sponsored by the International Textile Apparel Association, winning the award for Best Design for Functional Apparel for 1996.[409]
Two issues regarding the maternity uniform remained unresolved, however: where to carry a service revolver and the development of maternity body armour. The issue of where a pregnant Mountie carried her weapon remained a contentious one for the RCMP. Tullio-Pow recalled that the force refused to issue shoulder holsters to any of its police officers, male or female, because of concerns that they were less secure in dangerous situations. She did remember that the original maternity uniform had “a little gizmo entry at the side” that supposedly held a revolver. But it was too difficult to access in an emergency situation.[410]
Maternity body armour was also contentious. Tullio-Pow recalled that there were concerns that a fetus would be harmed by the impact of a bullet hitting the body armour. It was a possibility that the men who were making the decisions did not even want to entertain. But female members did not back down from addressing the issue. According to Tullio-Pow, one pregnant member in Nova Scotia was so concerned about her safety that she had custom-made body armour designed for herself. “She was one of the ones that was working in a three-man detachment … She was the only woman and she felt that she needed that and she went and paid for it herself,” said Tullio-Pow.[411]
Struggles over the design of the maternity uniform reveal the extent of the RCMP’s commitment to removing pregnant Mounties from operational duties as soon as possible. Commanding officers were undoubtedly motivated by safety and liability concerns for female members and their fetuses. But the RCMP also felt that they alone were responsible for decisions concerning their personnel. Individual female police officers did not have the right to decide at what point in their pregnancy they left operational duties; instead, it was a decision that should be made by supervisory personnel charged with managing the lower ranks.
In the 1980s, there were three women who had the opportunity to wear an altered version of the male review order uniform, including the red serge tunic, boots, Stetson hat, Sam Browne, and breeches. In each case, the uniforms were created for public events that promoted the police force, suggesting that the RCMP was sometimes willing to blur gendered lines in the interests of generating positive public opinion. Jackie Lewis, a special constable who was a lead singer in the RCMP band, recalled that in 1984 a review order red serge tunic was created by RCMP tailors especially for her to wear during performances. And in 1988, in preparation for the band’s tour to Italy, she was issued custom-made breeches and boots to wear while on parade with the band. When Lewis became pregnant with her first child in 1989, tailor Albert Reiter designed a maternity uniform for her. Lewis recalled, “I still remember the way that skirt felt and you know, if it weren’t so unusual for a woman [to be] wearing a long navy blue skirt, I’d still be wearing it today. It was just so, so comfortable … I remember doing a television show just a month before [my daughter] was born and nobody knew I was pregnant. That’s how beautiful that red serge was.”[412] While Lewis’s maternity uniform was well designed and comfortable, the fact that it hid her expanding body illustrates the police force’s adherence to social conventions that dictated a woman’s pregnancy should not be obvious.
In 1981, two female Mounties made their inaugural appearance as performers in the RCMP’s Musical Ride, a first for women in the RCMP.[413] Christine Mackie and Joan Merk received significant attention from the public and the media as the only women amongst the thirty-two performers in the Ride, described by one journalist as the “public-relations pride and joy of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.”[414] Not everyone was happy about their presence on the Ride. One middle-aged man commented to a journalist during one performance that “There are only two [women] in there, according to the paper—and I think it’s a disgrace. They shouldn’t have let ’em in.”[415] Many of the men on the Ride were also opposed to the women joining their ranks. Mackie and Merk endured a significant amount of ill treatment during the two months of equitation training courses they were required to complete. In an interview for Flare magazine in 1982, journalist Charlotte Gray wrote that Merk “seemed to trigger more resentment amongst those men who didn’t like riding alongside women. Her curly blond hair and feminine figure made her conspicuous and she wasn’t allowed to forget it. Muttered comments about the way she rode, wore her uniform and did her stable duties were often made behind her back.”[416]
Despite the criticisms, Mackie and Merk were also breaking ground as two of the few female Mounties permitted to wear a male review order uniform. Kate Morton, who turned down a position in the Musical Ride in 1980, recalled that the women’s Ride uniform was specially ordered “with panels inserted into the bust area to accommodate their chests” and custom-made riding breeches to accommodate a woman’s hips. Female members also wore English riding boots rather than RCMP issue, “unless their feet were large enough to wear the men’s boots.”[417] These changes were necessary to accommodate the female body and create a visual consistency with the male uniform during performances.
*
The opposition to women on the Musical Ride demonstrates just how important the image of the male review order uniform was for the RCMP’s most popular public relations tool. But female Mounties were determined to offer the Canadian public an alternative representation of the RCMP, one that situated them as figures of authority in their own right and on their own terms. In 1982, when Mackie was asked whether she enjoyed being on tour with the Ride, she replied, “Being a member of the Ride is a great way to see the country and represent Canada abroad. You feel pretty proud of yourself up there in the red coat.”[418] The presence of Mackie and Merk on the Musical Ride signalled to Canadians, both inside and outside the RCMP, that romanticized notions about women succumbing to scarlet fever and the charms of the handsome Mountie dressed in that nice red coat were quickly disappearing.