Beer in Mind, Women Also Like a Brew or Two

Words by Lauren Walker (she/her)

I had my first proper sip of beer at a party when I was sixteen. The beer was a Tui given to me by a cute boy I was trying to impress. “I’ve never had a Tui before,” I had most likely said meekly, batting my eyelashes as I looked up at his six-foot-two frame. I remember him laughing and saying something like, “You probably won’t like it.” My reaction was exactly as he had predicted. From then on, I walked hand in hand to every party with a box of mango-raspberry vodka cruisers.

Beer was for the boys, drunk after rugby games; a competition to see who could sink as much piss as possible. While girl’s night quickly became characterised by a lush-looking, pink bottle of rosé.

There’s irony in the fact that the first records of beer date back to women. The first written recipe is claimed to be the Hymn to Ninkasi, circa 1800 BCE. Ninkasi, born from freshwater, mixed the bappir with sweet aromatics, soaked the malt in a jar, and poured out filtered beer, the onrush of Tigris and Euphrates, to plenish the people of Mesopotamia. The Sumerian goddess of brewing, a woman, was the inventor of beer.

Sumerians and Egyptians praised beer goddesses and associated the process of brewing with women. As well as Ninkasi there was Kubaba, the only woman on the Sumerians’ list of kings. Earning her ruling not through birthright, but her role as a brewer. 

Around the fifth century, the concept of an alewife emerged. Women were making large volumes of beer for their families and there was often a surplus. By placing greenery over their doors, and in some cases brooms, they could signal to locals that there was extra beer for sale.

By the early twentieth century, beer drinking in Aotearoa had increased rapidly. With the six o’clock closing of pubs, binge drinking beer became the working man’s daily ritual. While, on the other hand, women were only allowed to drink in respectable private bars upstairs, or at home. At this, beer was firmly cemented in the hands of men. So much so that in 1878, the New Zealand Herald declared beer to be “the national beverage of New Zealand […] the drink of the working man.” 

The history of Aotearoa’s beer culture has provided foundation to an exclusive cult of beer drinkers, twisting the tale to now depict beer as being for men. Supported by cleverly targeted marketing campaigns, beer’s identity became masculine. Take DB Export Gold’s 2010 campaign for example, “Let nothing come between a man and a great beer.” Or Tui’s 2012 television advertisement: Three men sneak into a brewery, stealing beer from under the noses of a group of skimpily-dressed, seductive-looking women. 

But, as history has it, the tale is being retold and resold to a new generation of beer drinkers. Wellington-based academic, Kathleen Kuehn, conducted an investigation in 2018 on branding and gender (in)visibility of women brewers among Aotearoa’s craft beer industry. In her article, she outlines that the number of women drinking and working in beer has increased rapidly thanks to craft beer.

When I got my first restaurant job I was hired as a barista to work the day shifts and the mid-morning brunch rush. However, as Summer crept up with the days getting warmer and longer, I knew I wouldn’t be able to avoid the beer part of the job for too much longer. 

I would ask questions like, “How do I pour a pint?” and my manager’s face would turn into one of perplexion. I questioned how I would ever learn the difference between an American pale ale and an Indian pale ale. I knew fuck all about beer because it was something that I was never encouraged to drink.

As I saw men continually approach Joe for a beer suggestion, I took it upon myself to understand the politics of beer. The problem wasn’t that they approached Joe, but more so how he had acquired such vital information throughout his lifetime that I, as a woman, had not.

If my relationship with beer over the past few years is anything to go off, then I feel like I’d be betraying my fellow women if I said that the realm of beer is equally gendered. Sure, there are brewers, bartenders, and beer business owners who are women, but this doesn’t mean that women are treated equally to men in the industry. 

Within the craft beer industry, everyone’s pretty supportive. You’ve got associations like Pink Boots encouraging women to get involved, and slowly more brewers who are women are popping up. Women beer reps are more common than you’d think and no doubt there are women pulling pints at your local. The main difference being it takes more to prove ourselves. 

My experience as a woman bartender is echoed amongst so many others. The obvious distrust on a customer's face when I make him a beer recommendation hurts. Then there’s the chuckle when I bring him a couple of tasters and urge him to try something different that I think he might like. Nonetheless, not all customers are like that. Some don’t second guess, they trust, they’re thankful, and, as a bartender, those are the reactions that I should receive every single time. It’s on the off days that I am reminded that I’m not just a bartender, but that I’m a woman bartender. 

Statistically speaking, the ‘female’ body physically can’t handle beer in the same volume as men (though, of course, this varies person to person). We aren’t all built to sink a box or crate and I can happily accept that. I’m not asking to claim beer as solely a women’s drink. What I’m wanting is to break down the egos, the assumptions, and the unnecessary sexist slurs. Women also like beer, some of us even love it. Sorry if that’s threatening to your manhood, but get over it. 

As more women begin to enter the world of beer, the realms of masculinity and femininity are being re-gendered. The perception of women as masculine for drinking beer is re-considered and the idea that beer is masculine is re-thought. When a woman enters a man’s world it threatens to displace his masculinity, hence the egos and the unnecessary comments. The sad truth is that a woman’s legitimacy in the beer industry is at the mercy of men who decide whether a feminine association to beer is threatening. 

Working in a male-dominated industry with a “masculine” beverage has compelled me to learn as much as I can about beer. Every day I went to work inspired by the women that I was surrounded by; all successful, driven, and incredibly knowledgeable on beer. 

I’d always try whatever new beers we had on tap. Getting a gauge for the flavours and placing them somewhere on my scale from hoppy to malty to sour. I understood that McLeod’s 802 range was the superior choice for a hazy and that Funk Estate’s Jungle Boogie was and always will be the best sour. R.I.P. Funk Estate. 

Whenever I got stuck with a table of pretentious boomers, I’d chat shit about them behind the bar, then take it upon myself to impress them with my beer knowledge. I’d ask them what their favourite beer was then surprise them with a few pints, the perfect way to humble a few older men. 

Over time, my after-work staffie progressed from a glass of buttery chardonnay to a juicy hazy pale ale. A personal fave, Behemoth Brain Smiles; mosaic and citra-hopped liquid gold.

I’ve worked around craft beer for a few years now. I’ve been made to wait tables with the assumption that I know nothing behind the bar. Disobeying orders to pull pints until they realised I wasn’t joking when I said I like beer. While at other venues I’ve run the bar, gladly on my own, and proven that I know what I’m on about.

To succeed in this industry, women have to break a historical culture of gender stereotypes and marketing campaigns, but, as statistics are proving, the industry is changing. Ninkasi is making a comeback.