Solo Female Homeowner: My Experience with Contractors and Tradespeople
I moved into my house in June. It hasn't even been a year. And in that time, I've had contractors come through to deal with the gas, the chimney, plastering, electrical work, and various other bits and pieces.
As a solo Black female homeowner, a large percentage of them had something to say about the fact that I was in the house by myself. I want to talk about home safety for women living alone, because I don't think the reality of navigating the trades industry solo gets talked about enough.
I'm autistic and I have ADHD. One of the things that comes with that, for me, is that my mouth will sometimes run before my brain has fully caught up on what I should or probably shouldn't say in a given situation. And then afterwards I'm like... oh. Right. Yeah. Shouldn't have said that.
That happened with a contractor early on. I let it slip that I lived alone. And almost immediately, I knew it was a mistake. What followed was a barrage of questions. The one that hit the hardest was this:
"How have you been able to afford this house?"
I keep coming back to that question. Because I genuinely do not believe that question gets asked of a man in the same situation. A solo man, in his house, with a contractor there doing a job. Would that question come up? I don't think it would. But a Black woman, alone, owning a house, apparently that requires an explanation. It was like they couldn't quite get their head around the concept.
Other contractors asked what I did for work. Some asked whether my family was local. And I'd start to answer because it feels rude not to, and then catch myself halfway through a sentence because I'd clock what I was about to give away. Details about where my family are. Whether people check in on me. Whether anyone else is coming home.
You end up having to construct a whole alternative version of your life in real time, in your own house, while someone is there doing a job you're paying for. And it's exhausting.
The plastering situation was its own thing entirely.
He came, he did the job, he left. I didn't really know what good plastering was supposed to look like at various stages of the process, like while it's still damp and drying. He explained some of it, but I'll be honest, I wasn't fully sure what I was supposed to be looking for. I think he was aware of that.
About a week later the wall was looking like apple crumble. Just awful. Textured in a way that was very clearly not right.
But while I was sitting with that, trying to figure out what to do about it, he messaged me. Asking to take me out on a date. Then asking to take me to lunch. I said no. I said I wasn't comfortable with that. Clear. Direct.
At around 3 in the morning, I got a response. One word. "Boo."
I don't know what his evening looked like but I gave him the digital lashing of his life. Because absolutely not.
And then came the other feeling. The one that sits underneath the anger. The awareness that this person knows I'm likely in this house alone. The wondering whether saying no was going to come with some kind of pushback. Whether he'd show up. Whether he'd say something. You start running through scenarios that you shouldn't have to run through, in your own home, at 3 in the morning.
That's the part that doesn't get spoken about. It's not just the annoyance of a bad job or an inappropriate message. It's the safety calculation that immediately follows. And as a Black woman living alone, that calculation is never far away.
So I've started actively looking for women decorators and contractors.
I know that within the M25 there's Taskher, which is brilliant. As far as I'm aware, there isn't an equivalent where I am, but I have managed to find a female decorator, which is a win. I'm going to keep building out a list of resources as I find them.
I've also picked up a few tips from other women in similar situations. Someone suggested going to a charity shop and picking up a few items that read as male, just to leave around the house. And yeah, it's a lot. It really is a lot to have to think about. But there's also the version of this where you don't leave it to chance, where you make the deliberate decision to stage things a little, to be vague about certain details, to say "they'll be back later" or "they're away on business at the moment" without specifying who "they" are. Women have been doing this forever.
It shouldn't be necessary. It really, truly should not be necessary. And I say all of this not to paint every male contractor as a problem, because that's not what this is. You already know that. But there is a very particular experience that comes with being a Black woman, alone, in a house you own, having to navigate people who cannot seem to reconcile those facts. Who ask questions a man would never be asked. Who push past professional boundaries in ways that are then yours to manage.
And the advice is often "just tell them where to go" or "be firm with them." Which, sure. But that advice doesn't account for the fact that they are inside your home when this is happening. The power dynamic is not simple. Firmness has a cost when the person you're being firm with is standing in your hallway.
I'm still learning. I am genuinely, actively still learning what to look for, what to ask, what to check before anyone comes through the door. For now, what I can do is my due diligence. Read the reviews. Ask for recommendations from people I trust. Look for women-led trades where I can. And keep adding to the list.
DIY isn't always an option for me as physical labour has triggered flare-ups. I'm not interested in inciting pain, so will continue to do my research.
Home should be the one place where we don't have to perform or protect. While I'm still learning the ropes of homeownership and how to manage the power dynamics of the trades industry, I'm clear on one thing: my peace is non-negotiable. Here’s to finding the people who respect women. Period.
