Drop the mic, er … pants

Earning the trust of documentary film subjects can be tricky. Some people are open and ready to share. Others need more time to come around. It was clear from day one that the women of wildland firefighting would be the latter. 

Tough and skeptical —  burned in the past in many forms of media —  they were less than enthusiastic about another person with a camera asking them to share their story.  As I made my pitch, their faces were expressionless; indifference hung in the air. So, I did the only thing I could think of to show that my intentions were sincere: I dropped my pants. 

In wildland fire cotton or wool underwear is the rule; the fabrics hold up in the extreme temperatures of a fire and won’t melt and stick to the skin.  It was a risky move, for sure, but I think I was hoping that it would show I was in it for real.

It worked. 

The room erupted with laughter and applause. The wall between us crumbled and their stories spilled out. Who knew that a simple pair of purple, cotton Hanes could have so much power?