People talk about "trailblazers" like it’s some easy, shiny title you pick up at a gift shop. It isn't. When you watch the Woman on Fire film, you aren't just seeing a documentary about a career choice; you're watching someone fight for the right to breathe in their own skin while wearing fifty pounds of turnout gear. Directed by Julie Sokolow, this 2016 documentary follows Brooke Guinan, who became the first openly transgender firefighter in the history of the New York City Fire Department (FDNY).
It’s a heavy lift.
The FDNY isn't exactly known for being a bastion of progressive experimentalism. It is a world of tradition, lineage, and, frankly, a lot of old-school masculinity. Brooke didn't just walk into a fire station; she walked into a legacy. Her father was a firefighter. Her grandfather was a firefighter. For her, the "Woman on Fire film" is less about a political statement and more about a third-generation New Yorker trying to honor her family while being honest about who she is.
Why Brooke Guinan’s Story Actually Matters
Most documentaries about "firsts" feel like they were made in a lab to win awards. They’re clinical. Sokolow took a different route. She caught the grit. You see the soot on the face, but you also see the awkward, painful tension of a transition happening in the public eye. Brooke transitioned while already on the force. Think about that for a second. Most people find changing their haircut at work stressful. Brooke changed her entire gender identity in a department that, at the time, was over 99% male.
Honestly, the film works because it doesn't pretend everything is perfect.
We see the 2014 "So You Want to Be a Firefighter?" poster campaign. Brooke was the face of it. It was a huge moment for representation, sure, but the film also highlights the backlash. The internet, being the internet, wasn't always kind. Some of her colleagues weren't always kind. The Woman on Fire film captures that specific brand of New York bluntness—the kind that can be supportive one minute and incredibly harsh the next.
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Breaking the Third-Generation Mold
There’s a scene where Brooke’s father, George, talks about his struggle to understand. It’s raw. He’s a veteran firefighter, a "man’s man" by every traditional metric. Seeing him navigate the shift from having a son to having a daughter—while they both share the same dangerous profession—is probably the most "human" part of the whole thing. It’s not a Hollywood script where everyone hugs and the credits roll. It’s a messy, ongoing conversation about love and expectations.
The documentary doesn't just stay in the firehouse. It follows Brooke’s relationship with her partner, Jim, a dynamic that adds another layer of "normalcy" to a life that the media often tries to sensationalize. They’re just a couple. They deal with the same stuff everyone else does, only one of them happens to run into burning buildings for a living.
The Technical Reality of Being a Female Firefighter
Let’s get into the weeds of the job for a minute. The Woman on Fire film does a great job of showing the physical demands. The FDNY's Candidate Physical Ability Test (CPAT) is no joke. You have to haul hoses, climb stairs with weighted vests, and break down doors.
Some critics of women in the fire service always lean on the "physical strength" argument. Brooke’s response in the film isn't a speech; it's her performance. She does the work. But the film also points out the systemic hurdles. For a long time, firehouses weren't even built with female bathrooms or locker rooms. Being a woman in the FDNY often means literally not having a place to change your clothes.
When the film was released, there were fewer than 60 women in the FDNY out of about 10,000 firefighters. Brooke wasn't just representing the trans community; she was part of a tiny sorority of women trying to prove they belonged in the city's "Bravest."
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Sokolow’s Directorial Lens
Julie Sokolow has a knack for finding people who live at the intersection of conflicting identities. In this documentary, she uses a lot of close-up, handheld shots. It feels intimate, almost like you’re eavesdropping on a conversation in a Brooklyn kitchen. This wasn't a big-budget Marvel movie. It was an indie project that gained traction because Brooke Guinan is an incredibly compelling subject. She’s funny, she’s sharp, and she’s tired. You can see the exhaustion in her eyes—not just from the 24-hour shifts, but from the weight of being a "symbol."
What Most People Get Wrong About the Movie
A lot of people go into the Woman on Fire film expecting a "war on the FDNY." They expect a story about a woman suing her department or fighting a legal battle.
That’s not what this is.
Brooke loves the FDNY. That’s the nuance people miss. She isn't trying to tear down the institution; she’s trying to make it better so she can be a part of it. It’s a story of loyalty. She respects the traditions of the department even when those traditions don't initially have a place for her.
Another misconception? That it’s only for "political" viewers. It’s really a documentary about New York. If you love the smell of the subway and the chaos of the five boroughs, this film hits those notes perfectly. It’s a very "New York" story.
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The Legacy of the Film Years Later
Since the film came out, Brooke Guinan has continued to be an advocate, but she’s also just... a firefighter. That’s the goal, right? To get to a point where your identity isn't the headline, but your work is. The Woman on Fire film served as a catalyst for more conversations about diversity in emergency services, but more importantly, it gave a face to a demographic that is often ignored or caricatured.
It’s worth noting that the film doesn't have a "happy ending" in the traditional sense because the story isn't over. Transitioning is a process. Career growth is a process. Changing the culture of a century-old institution is a long process.
How to Watch and What to Look For
If you’re planning to watch it, keep an eye out for the smaller moments.
- The way Brooke interacts with her mother, who is often the bridge between Brooke and her father.
- The sheer physical size of the gear Brooke has to wear—it really puts the "physicality" debate into perspective.
- The quiet scenes in the firehouse kitchen. In the FDNY, the kitchen is the heart of the station. If you’re accepted there, you’re accepted anywhere.
You can usually find the documentary on streaming platforms like Amazon Prime or through educational distributors like Women Make Movies. It’s a solid 90-minute investment for anyone interested in social change, fire science, or just a damn good character study.
Practical Steps for Supporting Diversity in First Response
If the Woman on Fire film leaves you wanting to do more than just sit on your couch, there are actual ways to engage with these themes.
- Support Local Recruitment: Many fire departments are actively looking to diversify. If you know someone—regardless of gender—who has the heart for service, encourage them to look into the CPAT requirements.
- Educate on Policy: Look into the "United Women Firefighters" (UWF) organization. They’ve been doing the heavy lifting in New York since the 80s, helping women prep for the academy.
- Check Your Bias: The film shows how much "casual" commentary can wear a person down. Supporting diversity in the workplace starts with the way we talk about our colleagues when they aren't in the room.
- Watch the Credits: Look at the organizations that helped fund the film. Many of them focus on LGBTQ+ storytelling and need continued support to tell stories that big studios won't touch.
Brooke Guinan’s story isn't just about fire. It’s about the heat required to forge something new. It’s about the fact that you can be "on fire" for your career and your identity at the same time without burning out. Just remember: the gear is heavy, but the silence is heavier. Brooke chose to speak, and the FDNY—and New York—is different because of it.