What 550 days at sea taught me about belonging, teamwork, and creating safe spaces in remote environments

By Ashleigh Kitchiner

I’ve spent more than 550 days at sea, long rotations, short turnarounds, and the kind of offshore work where your world shrinks to a vessel, a crew, and the weather. As a woman offshore, I learned early how to navigate spaces not always designed with me in mind. But it wasn’t until I worked alongside LGBTQ+ colleagues that I realised how different, and often more dangerous, the experience can be for them. I came to understand that safety offshore isn’t experienced equally: gender, sexuality, race, and role all shape how vulnerable or visible someone might feel.

Many of the LGBTQ+ people I’ve met offshore were not out at work. Not because they lacked pride, but because they lacked safety. Hearing that was sobering. I had always known offshore life could be tough, but I hadn’t considered the constant self-monitoring some colleagues lived with: adjusting pronouns, hiding photos, avoiding conversations that might reveal too much.

Belonging in a place built for someone else

It made me rethink what belonging really means in remote environments. Life at sea is intimate. You share cabins, meals, shifts, and stories. You learn who snores, who sings in the shower, who always takes the last biscuit. And yet, some people must keep the most important parts of themselves locked away.

One colleague once told me, quietly over a night shift, that being offshore felt like “living in a glass box, everyone can see you, but no one can know you.” That stayed with me.

This was the start of a learning curve for me. These lessons didn’t come from training modules or policy documents. They came from conversations, from mistakes, from listening and from witnessing the courage it takes to simply exist in a space that doesn’t feel safe.

What 550 days at sea taught me

1. Safety isn’t just physical, it’s emotional. A vessel can meet every HSE requirement and still be unsafe for someone who fears harassment or exclusion. Emotional safety is part of operational safety.
2. Silence can be a survival strategy. Not being out offshore isn’t a lack of trust. It’s a calculation. A risk assessment. A way to get through a rotation without fear.
3. Small signals matter. A pronoun badge, a pride sticker on a water bottle, or simply not laughing at a ‘joke’ can change the entire tone of a crew.
4. Leadership isn’t about authority, it’s about atmosphere. Anyone can set the tone for respect. You don’t need to be the captain to influence culture.
5. Diversity strengthens fieldwork. Teams work better when people feel safe enough to contribute fully. Offshore work demands trust, and trust grows where people can be themselves.

Why this matters for the sector

Marine science, conservation, and offshore industries rely on collaboration in high-pressure, isolated environments. If LGBTQ+ colleagues feel unsafe, unseen, or unable to participate authentically, the whole sector loses out on talent, innovation, and humanity.

I don’t pretend to speak for LGBTQ+ people offshore. But I can speak as someone who has listened and been changed by the stories shared with me. Pride offshore doesn’t always look like rainbow flags or big declarations. Sometimes it looks like a quiet conversation on a night shift. Sometimes it looks like someone finally feeling safe enough to use their real pronouns. Sometimes it looks like a colleague choosing to be an ally, even when no one is watching.

After 550 days at sea, I’ve learned this: creating safe spaces offshore isn’t about grand gestures, it’s about everyday courage, empathy, and the willingness to make room for everyone.

I’m still learning, and I know creating safer spaces offshore is an ongoing practice, not a finished task.

About the author

Ashleigh Kitchiner is a marine professional who has spent more than 550 days at sea across offshore rotations. She writes about belonging, emotional safety, and inclusion in remote working environments.

Words by Ashleigh Kitchiner. Photos: Unsplash (Archie; Silas Baisch). SEVENSEAS Media thanks Ashleigh for sharing her story.