I barged into a profession historically dominated by men – law enforcement – and did so at the highest level: as a United States Secret Service Special Agent. This was a conscious choice, and I anticipated encountering skepticism, criticism, chauvinism, and outright hostility. And I did. However, I also found incredible male allies, genuine supporters, and steadfast believers in the essential and exceptional capabilities of female agents within the Service. Early on, I learned the importance of staying focused, maintaining integrity, and excelling at my job. And, crucially, never, ever let them see you sweat.
Here are a few significant experiences from my career.
Rigorous Training
Becoming a Secret Service Agent involved two demanding phases of training. The first took place at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center (FLETC) in Glynco, Georgia, and the second at various locations in Washington, DC. At FLETC, in a class of forty-six, only three of us were women. We were all strong candidates – intelligent, competent, and physically fit, as required. The male candidates presented a more diverse range. One, in particular, seemed to have a problem with women, especially with me.
His negativity became a daily motivator, pushing me to excel, outperform the men, and even enjoy the challenge more. One day, his frustration boiled over. He was clearly annoyed by my positive attitude and the fact that the three of us women had aced the physical fitness test. Shaking his head, he confronted me, “What are you even doing here? Why don’t you just quit?!” I laughed in his face, which only fueled his anger. “I’m succeeding and having a great time. How about you?!” I retorted. His disdain became my fuel, driving me to excel and find joy in overcoming the obstacles.
The second training phase included another male agent, a legacy whose family had deep roots in the USSS. He was clearly resentful of the Service’s evolving nature and openly rude to the female agents. One day, we were scheduled for Remington 870 shotgun training. I was thrilled to see that our instructor was a woman. The look on the legacy agent’s face was priceless.
After classroom instruction, we moved to the range for practical exercises using slug ammunition, known for its powerful recoil. Bruised shoulders were expected, regardless of how tightly we held the shotguns. During a break, another male agent noticed something and pointed at Mr. Angry Guy, “What’s that peeking out of your shirt?” His eyes widened in panic as he frantically tried to shove white cotton back into his sleeve, desperate to hide it. Too late.
Mr. Macho Man, the tough guy, the chauvinist, had used a maxi pad on his shoulder for padding to avoid bruising. It was a perfect moment of self-inflicted humiliation. He never lived it down.
Life in the Field
Working in the Washington, DC Field Office (WFO) was a dream realized. We were at the heart of the USSS, responsible for protecting the President and Vice President, their families, and numerous visiting foreign dignitaries. Despite undergoing the same rigorous application process, training, and performing the same daily duties, I often felt under scrutiny from many male colleagues. The bar seemed higher for women agents; it was as if male rookies were automatically accepted, while women, including myself, constantly had to prove our worth.
Women agents were intensely scrutinized, and any perceived weakness was highlighted, as if we were merely fulfilling a quota. But I thrive under pressure, especially with high stakes. So, I consistently proved myself, day after day. It was also clear that exceeding male counterparts in areas like shooting, defensive tactics, or physical fitness often provoked resentment. And I relished it. It was a powerful motivator, and witnessing some of my male colleagues gradually accept and treat me as an equal was almost amusing.
On one of my early protection assignments, during a break, an older male agent remarked, “This job used to be different, better. Buicks, booze, and broads… those were the good old days, before women joined and ruined it.” Caught off guard, I kept my composure, smiled, and replied, “I’d say bringing women in was the best decision the Service ever made, but that’s just my opinion.” He chuckled and nodded. Ultimately, stress, challenges, and naysayers only fuel my drive to excel.
Throughout my time at WFO, I held the unique position of being the only Spanish speaker, male or female. This led to diverse and enriching missions: accompanying advance teams to Latin American embassies, handling Spanish-speaking calls at WFO, interviewing suspects feigning ignorance of English (“No hablo Inglés”), and working on counterfeit currency cases involving individuals from South America. I gained experiences typically unavailable to new agents. My favorite mission was an undercover operation to dismantle a fake passport ring run by a Latin American man. Did I hesitate? Absolutely not! I embraced every opportunity. Whatever mission they offered, I said “yes” without hesitation. This was my calling.
Surprisingly, some challenges also arose from within the female agent community. For weeks, I was repeatedly urged, encouraged, and even guilt-tripped by female agents to attend the Female Agents’ Organization meetings within the Service. I resisted. I anticipated an environment focused on complaining about perceived missed opportunities for female agents, which I felt would be detrimental. Eventually, I relented and attended one meeting. I never returned. The meeting confirmed my initial reservations. Personally, I’ve never found complaining about what I lack to be productive. I prefer to excel in the assignments I receive. This experience reinforced my approach: focus on my work and deliver.
It was as if the rookie male agents were automatically assumed to be worthy and belong, but the rookie women and I still had to prove ourselves.
However, positive recognition is always welcome. One of the most rewarding moments occurred when an older woman said to me, “I didn’t know there were Female Secret Service Agents.” Smiling, I replied, “Yes, Ma’am, there certainly are. We make up about 10% of the Secret Service agents right now, and I’m one of them.” This filled me with immense pride and reinforced my sense of uniqueness as a woman in the USSS.
Transition to the Private Sector
After a fulfilling period with the USSS, I transitioned to the private security sector. Life as a protection agent in the world of international executive protection was incredibly rewarding as a woman. Being one of the few women in this field, and having cultivated a strong reputation, I was never short of work. Challenges persisted, but as before, they fueled my ambition, often brought humor, and reaffirmed that I was in the right place, even if it defied expectations.
While protecting an Ambassador from the Organization of American States (OAS) in Lima, Peru, I was repeatedly asked, “Are you the ambassador’s secretary?” For what felt like the hundredth time, I smiled and replied, “Of course.” I wondered how many secretaries carry 9mm handguns.
In another encounter, an aide, squinting and invading my personal space, inquired, “Ah, you must be the ambassador’s daughter!” “Sí, claro,” I responded. After all, the family resemblance between the short, rotund Colombian ambassador and me, a tall, athletic Lithuanian from Chicago, was undeniable, right? Secretary, daughter, and my personal favorite assumption: mistress.
Rumors about my identity and role with the ambassador spread rapidly in Lima. As long as it didn’t impede my work, I was indifferent to the speculation, even if they thought I was Elvis. In fact, in a chauvinistic country like Peru, the underestimation of my role as the ambassador’s protection agent was a significant advantage, potentially life-saving in a crisis. Putting my life on the line was always part of the job, even when it meant having a bounty placed on my head – a detail I wisely kept from my parents!
In Bogota, Colombia, for two and a half years under the US Embassy, my title was U.S. Security Advisor to the Minister of Defense (MOD) of Colombia. Colombia was then known as the “Kidnap Capital of the World.” The MOD, a woman, faced a higher threat level than the president due to her declared commitment to ending corruption in the Colombian military, creating powerful enemies among her own generals. Additionally, the presidential administration was actively combating leftist guerilla groups, right-wing paramilitary groups, and drug cartels. One day, my three colleagues and I were summoned to the Embassy, taken to the “cone of silence” (CIA), and informed that guerillas had placed bounties on our heads due to our roles in protecting the administration.
One Friday night, I received a call from a special agent at the Regional Security Office about an attack two blocks from my home. I contacted a colleague who had received the same call. We agreed to meet at the scene immediately. It was chaotic – two grenades had been thrown into bars and restaurants in a popular area frequented by Americans, a leftist guerilla attack intended to harm Americans. The only fatality was a Colombian woman, but many were injured, including two American Airlines pilots.
Despite our prompt response, my colleague and I were both commended and reprimanded for arriving at the scene. Guerilla tactics often involve creating chaos to attract large crowds, followed by a larger attack to maximize casualties. What was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking; I was reacting instinctively, doing my job – being the calm in the storm, regardless of location.
However, even in a career I loved, there were downsides. In Haiti, as a contractor on a U.S. State Department mission, I protected President Jean-Bertrand Aristide and later, René Préval. I was part of an eleven-agent team – ten men and myself. It was an intense assignment, and this team profoundly impacted my life. We faced what we believed was an attack on the presidential palace – an unforgettable adrenaline rush. Haiti, blending Catholicism and voodoo, also exposed me to witch-burnings, where accused individuals were burned alive.
All of this, I could manage. It was the behavior of my ten male teammates that ultimately drove me to leave the security industry and pursue a graduate degree in forensic psychology. It wasn’t just the excessive drinking that made me question their reliability in a crisis. It was the rampant infidelity – married teammates engaging in affairs with local women, some even establishing concubine relationships in team houses. One teammate left a cook pregnant and then fabricated his death to avoid child support.
That was my breaking point.
My Perspective
Every situation has multiple facets; the choice is yours how to perceive them. Despite the danger, chauvinism, judgment, and challenges, I chose to see my experiences as opportunities. I chose my perspective. I chose to be motivated, to strive for improvement, and to maintain my sanity in the often-insane environments I encountered.
If you’re interested in more of my experiences, they are detailed in my new book.
This article was originally published April 29, 2020.
