I’ve attended the EAA event countless times, having grown up in an aviation family and, more recently, being married to a private pilot. It’s always a fun time, becoming gradually more interesting to me as I’ve learned about it. At the same time, I am not one who, personally, has my heart set on flying. I don’t yearn for the freedom of flight. I don’t have an aching desire to soar above the clouds. So EAA has been fun, but has not been a particular passion of mine.

This year, however, EAA held a few surprises for me, ones that changed my perspective.

During the morning of my first day at the show, I met John, an airplane salesperson. Upon hearing about my background and my interest in helping companies better connect with their female consumer base, he said something that would change the rest of my EAA experience: “The aviation industry needs your help.”

At once, and for the rest of the weekend, I saw the show with new eyes. Everything felt even more familiar to me: the vendors speaking to male customers and virtually ignoring female ones. The testosterone-drenched marketing efforts. The awkward attempts to integrate and appreciate women in this decidedly man’s world.

It all seemed so similar to what I’ve experienced first-hand, working in the electronics industry. All the times in my career when I was the only woman on staff.  When I went out of my way to be “one of the guys.” When I began researching and teaching men about the power of the female consumer.

Everything I saw here had a direct parallel to my life’s experience.

Later that same day, EAA held its daily airshow – featuring an all-female cast of pilots, skydivers, wingwalkers and aerobatic performers – a first in the airshow’s 56-year history. But, the show’s impact was lessened by its bookend male acts, its fumbling commentator, and its patronizing soundtrack (you guessed it: “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”).

The organization was clearly making an effort; they just didn’t know how to do this right. At the end of the day, these amazing women pilots had showcased not their accomplishments, only their novelty. The entire episode felt more like a sideshow than the day’s main event.

In the evening, a “Women in Aviation” panel discussion continued the day’s theme. Female aviators described their passion for flying and told of the experiences that brought them here. As I watched, I saw women doing all they could to fit into a man’s world. When a couple of the panelists commented that they are “not typical women” and that they “can’t cook at all,” I could relate.

For me, it was never a conscious decision, just an instinct: over the years, I had modified my words and actions – slowly becoming one of the guys by drawing a distinction between me and the girls. I highlighted certain aspects of myself (I’m not into scrapbooking) while ignoring other parts (I love baking). To be one of the guys, I learned golf, smoked cigars, and took training to install car stereos. I was busy showing and telling that I could be accepted because I wasn’t a typical girl.

Only recently have I figured out that it’s not me who had to change, it’s the industry around me. That I could do more for the business, and for women, by working for both, instead of choosing one over the other.  That being boldly who I am – both typically feminine and uniquely me – will create positive change in the industry and in society.

In recent years, the electronics industry has started to consider the impact that women have. They’re seeing the opportunity, making gradual changes, and reaping the benefits of creating solutions for the other 51% of the population.

The aviation world is not there. But it’s moving.

I’ve decided to take a more active role, to help coax it in the right direction. My life has given me great insight into worlds like this one. I can help this industry.

And all the women who love to fly.

I gave answers like, “I’m not sure what’s gotten into me, but I’m going to a training about how to run for political office.”

Or, “I’ll be learning about how to campaign for office. But, I’m not planning to run for anything.”

After an incredible weekend spent with amazing women from around Minnesota and across the U.S., I’m still in a bit of shock about who I met, what I learned, and where it may take me.

I saw women from all backgrounds, some who hold office now, others who insist they’ll never run. Some college students, others who, within a decade, will be retiring from lifelong careers. Women interested in municipal government in their towns, tribal council in their villages, state congressional seats. And a few who long to be president.

During the weekend, these women learned how to raise funds, select staff, and run their campaigns. Most importantly, they learned to tell their stories, honestly, clearly, concisely.

This last skill is the one that still has my head spinning. These women told their stories – in heartfelt conversations, speeches, and even songs – of moments that changed them. Of personal heartache, refugee camps, homelessness,  violence. And, of survival and perseverance.

They told why they wanted to lead, why they could – and would – make a difference in the world around them.

I have no doubt that they will.

This experience has inspired me, slowly bringing me to the understanding that I, too, have a story to tell. That I want to make a difference. To lead a “political life.”

Not the politics that focuses on deceit, broken promises, and bureaucracy. But the kind that makes real change. That creates a society where  lives are better because I got involved in creating a solution for the world around me.

My story is still unfolding. I don’t have one clear mission for what I want to accomplish in the political arena.

But, I’m not going to make excuses anymore. I want to get involved. Whether this means running for office, supporting others who do, or involving myself in the issues of my communitiy, I want to lead a political life.