Profession – the sky

In this issue — a conversation between Gio Kardava and Syusan Mamedova, a pilot at Centrum Air, about focus and patience, the sky without pathos, and freedom without romanticism. About a profession where the essence lies not in fear or adrenaline, but in respect.

— Tell me, what did you hear most often at the start of your career? Was it something like, “This isn’t a woman’s job,” or rather, “You’re doing great, keep it up”?

— I began flying in Europe, and to be honest, people there take it quite naturally. There’s no prejudice about a woman in the cockpit — it’s fairly common, nothing sensational. I never encountered discrimination or remarks like “this isn’t for women.” Not once.

— And how much flying experience do you have in Europe?

— Quite a lot. I flew small single-engine aircraft, often solo — without a co-pilot or anyone else. I flew around Vilnius, all over Slovakia and Austria, so yes, I’ve had plenty of experience.

— You’ve already touched on this a bit, but let’s go deeper. How are women pilots generally perceived in the places you’ve flown?

— Wherever I’ve worked, I’ve never really faced the idea that a woman “can’t be a pilot.” The attitude is mostly professional: if you do your job well, it doesn’t matter whether you’re a man or a woman. In Europe, that question has long been settled. In the U.S. — I’m currently flying under an American license — there’s even more encouragement. You often hear things like, “Go ahead! Keep going! You’re doing great! Go, girl!” 

Uzbekistan is moving toward a bright future, and women here are no longer a rarity. Yes, maybe one or two per company, but still — progress. In our airline, I’m the first, but I’m sure others will follow. Gradually, people are realizing that a woman can master any profession, no matter how demanding it is. And the pilot’s profession is demanding — both mentally and physically.

— Do you have a community of women pilots? Maybe a Telegram chat or something like that?

— Since there aren’t many of us here, I don’t personally know other female pilots, but I’m part of a Facebook group called Female Pilots. It brings together women pilots from all over the world — they share their achievements, discuss challenges, including discrimination. Interestingly, most of those stories actually come from the U.S., which might sound surprising.

Sometimes I read through the threads and see women writing: “The captain said something snarky,” “they didn’t greet me,” “someone made a ‘joke.’” It’s interesting to read their experiences — everyone’s path is different, and sometimes I just think, “What a journey! Well done, girls.”

— How many members are there?

— Several thousand. Mostly from the U.S. and Mexico, but really — from everywhere.

— Have you ever faced prejudice like, “If the pilot is a woman, I’m not boarding that plane”?

— Yes, actually! When Centrum Air posted on Instagram about me joining as a pilot, there were a few comments like that. What’s interesting is that most of them came from women rather than men. Men would joke playfully, but women were serious. I was honestly surprised. I didn’t respond, of course — everyone’s entitled to an opinion — but there were some very firm comments like, “No way, I wouldn’t board a plane flown by a woman.”

Recently someone wrote, “Just don’t forget to turn on the blinkers.” There were only one or two comments like that, so I don’t even react. Usually, those come from people who aren’t very educated or happy — they just post unpleasant things.

Criticism is fine, even necessary, but it should be constructive. That’s the kind worth responding to. If it’s just empty noise — then it’s not true. Most comments, though, are kind and supportive. People write warm words, and you can feel that.

— Are there any distinctly female qualities that help you in your work?

— Definitely. Attention to detail helps a lot — and it’s one of the most important qualities in our profession.We constantly monitor the aircraft’s systems: dozens of displays, data, figures, indicators — you always need to stay focused.

And, as far as I know, women tend to have better peripheral vision. So even if you’re not looking directly at a display, you can still catch changes out of the corner of your eye — that’s important too. Attentiveness, diligence — though I wouldn’t say those are exclusively female traits. And patience, of course. It’s especially useful when working with colleagues. People are all different, and you have to find your way with each one. So yes, patience helps a great deal.

— What do you consider the most “masculine” and the most “feminine” aspects of your profession?

— Aside from attentiveness and patience... I do think women are generally more patient than men. As for what’s most masculine — probably everything else, starting with the uniform.

I’d also highlight focus and composure — things without which this job is impossible. You have to be able to keep emotions in check. Women tend to be more emotional by nature, and that can be challenging — especially when you hear something that could be taken the wrong way. But it’s important to understand that a colleague is addressing you as a professional, not as a woman — and to take it that way.

I’d also say that caring for your colleague is a feminine touch — and something essential. After all, aviation places great emphasis on CRM (Ed. note: Crew Resource Management — a system designed to ensure effective teamwork and communication within the crew). It’s about synergy, about creating the right atmosphere in the cockpit. It should be comfortable, calm, not tense. A captain isn’t an authoritarian boss, but a colleague who respects the opinions of the first officer and the cabin crew.

For example, this is how I try to take care of my colleagues: we often have very early flights — five or six in the morning. I know my colleague might not have had time for breakfast, so I bring along a snack bar — in sealed packaging — and share it. It may seem like a small thing, but it’s pleasant and useful. Flying on an empty stomach isn’t a good idea — your focus should be on the job, not on hunger. Sleep and nutrition are the foundation of flying.

— Have you ever found yourself being the “mom” on board — the one who looks after everyone and keeps things in order? 

— I’d say not a mom, but a caring friend. I try to show attention on every flight, no matter who I’m flying with, even if I’m meeting the person for the first time. I might ask, “Do you need anything?” Sometimes I’ll ask the flight attendants for help if the captain is busy. It’s not difficult for me — if I have a free moment, which, honestly, first officers almost never do.

— So asking, “How are you feeling today?” — that matters too?

— Absolutely. Simple things like that set the tone, especially when the day starts early or the flight is long.

— Where do you feel more confident — on the ground or in the air?

— Good question. When you’re just starting to fly, you don’t yet have full confidence. You know the procedures, but until you’ve lived through different in-flight situations, there’s still a touch of uncertainty. It’s not a weakness — just a stage.

Before this, I spent sixteen years as a flight attendant. I was a professional — I knew exactly what I was doing, and I did it not just well, but excellently. I held a good position, and they didn’t really want to let me go — it’s not easy to find a flight attendant who takes responsibility, cares about passengers, and makes their journey comfortable and memorable. So back then I felt absolutely confident. I believe that, with time, I’ll reach the same level of confidence as a pilot too.

— If you had the chance to fly alone — no passengers, no route, no schedule — where would you go?

— Oh, I’ve actually done that. When I was earning my license in Europe, I had to log a certain number of solo hours. You decide when to fly yourself: have breakfast, go to the airfield, and if the aircraft is available — you refuel it and take off for a cross-country flight (Ed. note: flights between countries or cities that require the use of navigation procedures), purely for pleasure. I mostly flew over mountain regions — Slovakia, Austria, Hungary. It was breathtaking, unforgettable. 

You feel absolute freedom: you’re not tied to passengers or schedules. You fly until you run out of fuel. There’s real joy in that. I honestly love what I do. I love that there’s always room to grow, that there’s no ceiling.

— What was harder — mastering all the nuances of the profession or proving to people that you truly deserve to be a pilot?

— Definitely learning the systems. One hundred percent. And I don’t try to prove anything to anyone — only to myself. It doesn’t really matter what people think of me, especially those I might see once in my life. Spending energy trying to convince someone otherwise just means wasting it in the wrong direction.

But mastering the aircraft — its types, its systems — that’s truly challenging. It’s serious machinery. You don’t just have to know it — you have to respect it. A modern airplane is a flying computer, and in this profession, you never stop learning. It’s not like you become a first officer, then a captain — and that’s it, you can relax. No. You study, review, and refresh your knowledge every single day.

There are always new materials, bulletins, and articles being published. You read accident and incident reports to understand how to prevent mistakes. It’s a never-ending process. If you’re a professional pilot, you’re always a student.

— Listening to you, it sounds like you’re a real aviation geek — in the best possible way…

— Well, I guess I am (smiles). I’m genuinely fascinated by all of it. I think this profession attracts people who are truly in love with the sky. It’s not just a job — it’s a lifestyle. It’s physically demanding: constant flights, early mornings, night duties, being away from home, missing holidays, birthdays, family gatherings.

You sacrifice a lot for this profession — and without genuine, heartfelt love for it, it would be very hard to endure.

— Where does your love for flying come from? 

— My father was a military engineer—mechanic. He served in Kamchatka and Chukotka. He always dreamed of becoming a pilot himself, but for some reason, it didn’t work out. I remember having toy airplanes as a child — I think my father planted that love for aviation in me subconsciously. He used to show me his DMB album — it had drawings of fighter jets, aerobatic maneuvers, beautiful sketches. I guess all of that stayed somewhere deep inside me.

Honestly, I never thought I’d become a pilot. I couldn’t even imagine flying — it wasn’t part of any plan.

The decision came later. At some point, I realized I was capable of more than being a senior flight attendant. I never wanted to be an instructor — I wanted to fly, not sit in an office. And when I felt I had the strength and potential, I decided to give it a try.

I did — and I loved it. Easy paths aren’t really for me. I like things that challenge me, that require effort and focus. The journey was long and far from simple, as it usually is in aviation. But maybe that’s what makes it so valuable.

When you go through challenges, mistakes, situations that test and harden you — all that builds your inner strength. And the taste of victory becomes that much sweeter.

Every step is a victory. Getting your PPL (Ed. note: Private Pilot License — the first major milestone in a pilot’s career) is a victory. Proving to yourself that you can. Lifting an airplane into the sky for the first time — even a small one, but on your own. Every pilot remembers that day — a moment that stays with you forever.

— Tell us about that moment.

— I’d love to. It was in 2016, in Vilnius. I completed the training quite fast — in about three months, while working at the same time. I’d fly to Moscow for work, earn money for flights, then come back to Vilnius to take exams and log flight hours.

And then came August 18. I’d been waiting for that day for a long time — the weather often kept me grounded. In August, Vilnius already gets strong crosswinds that make flying unsafe. There’s a wind limit, and if it’s exceeded, you simply don’t take off. So I waited for several days.

That day, my instructor and I did three circuits around the airfield. I had no idea that this would be the day. I thought it was just another flight. And then he said, “Stop the plane, don’t shut it down — I’m getting out.” I asked, “Where are you going?” He smiled: “That’s it. You’re on your own. Three takeoffs and three landings.” And suddenly you realize — this is it. There’s no one next to you anymore. No instructor, no colleague. Just you, the plane, and the weather.

Surprisingly, there was no panic. I felt nervous, yes, but not in a way that clouds your mind. It was pure excitement — the realization that you’re doing what you’ve dreamed of.

My instructor didn’t intervene, didn’t say a word over the radio. Of course, he was watching from the ground, worrying, like any instructor would for their “birdie.” When I landed, he ran up with his phone — he’d filmed my flight. “So, how was it? How do you feel?” he asked. I still have that video — sometimes I rewatch it.

That day will stay with me forever — because it was the moment I proved to myself that I could.

— That’s beautiful. Do you remember the moment you said to yourself, “I’m a pilot”?

— I think I’m still living that moment. I haven’t fully realized it yet.

— Imposter syndrome?

— Yes. I’m never really satisfied with myself. I always feel like I could do better. I’ve just passed the check, the program with my assigned captain, and tomorrow I start another one — this time with an instructor. After that, I’ll finally be able to fly with any captain.

It’s such an exciting period right now — very intense! The induction program was tough, but incredibly engaging. And I had amazing instructors — each of them shared a piece of their experience, knowledge, and attitude toward this profession. I’m so grateful to all of them.

Especially to the one who prepared me for my check. I adore him with all my heart — as a mentor, a colleague, a friend. He believed in me as a professional, and that means the world. When someone believes in you, it gives you wings. Sure, I don’t have much experience yet, and doubts do come up. But instructors like mine teach you not to be afraid — to take action.

Then you start demanding more from yourself. Sometimes even unrealistically much. But over time you realize: you just need to work calmly, learn from your mistakes, and not dwell on them. Mistakes are part of the journey. The main thing is to recognize and correct them.

I recently posted a quote: “Give yourself time to grow.” That’s exactly about me. It’s such an interesting stage in my life.

— That’s wonderful. I hope it lasts as long as possible — in terms of excitement, not uncertainty.

— Yes, I really don’t want to stop. I want to be the kind of professional people feel safe and comfortable flying with. To make them feel reliability beside them. And maybe, in some way, for my path to become an example. I’m sure more girls will join our company. Maybe I’ve helped clear the path for them just a little. It’s a big responsibility — challenging, but incredibly inspiring.

— Then tell me, what would you say to a girl who reads this interview and decides she wants to become a pilot?

— Go for it!

You have to go after your goals. If you feel potential inside you — try. Don’t be afraid. Don’t listen to anyone but yourself. There will always be people saying: “Why do you need this?”, “It’s too expensive!”, “It’ll take too long!”, “You should be building a family!”, “What about kids?”

Don’t listen. Listen to yourself and your heart. There are so many opportunities today — all the information is out there. Don’t know English? Learn it. YouTube, courses, online lessons — everything’s available. The main thing is to stay focused on your goal and move toward it step by step.

It will be hard. Sometimes you’ll want to give up. You might even think, “Maybe this isn’t for me.” But the key is not to stop. Everything is possible if you truly want to fly.

Yes, there will be times when… actually, not even “seems like” — you really will want to give up. It happened to me a couple of times. It was really hard. I thought, “Maybe this isn’t for me, there are too many obstacles. Maybe it’s a sign.”But you just need to rest for a day or two — and then get back up and keep going. There’s no other way.

— Let’s get a bit more grounded now and talk about the “math” behind this profession. Roughly speaking — how much does it cost to become a pilot?

— I know that in Russia, you can apply for a government-funded spot at one of several flight schools, or to an aviation institute in Moscow or Saint Petersburg. You go through the selection process and study for free. There’s also a paid option, but I’m not sure about the current costs in Russia, because I got my licenses in Europe and the U.S.

Speaking of Europe — at that time, the minimum cost to go from zero to a CPL was around 70 to 100 thousand euros. And that’s without travel costs, food, or accommodation. Now it’s probably a bit higher. Plus, there’s also the type rating (Ed. note: a special qualification that allows a pilot to operate a specific type of aircraft). I invested my own money. It used to be that a company could sponsor your training, and then you’d repay it through a percentage of your salary — not a small percentage, but still manageable. That happens less often now.

So, going back to your earlier question — you really do have to invest in yourself. The more you grow as a professional, the more you put into your development, the more interesting you become on the job market. If you’re already a qualified pilot, even with low flight hours, your chances of getting hired are much higher. It’s expensive, yes — but it’s possible. You just have to work for it. Or take loans — I know many people who do that. I was lucky: I had a well-paid job, so I could afford it. It was hard — all my money went into training, I had nothing left. But I did it. My European license cost around 70,000 euros, and my American one — about 50,000.

— Speaking of personality, what did you have to change in yourself to adapt to the profession, to train, to actually become a pilot?

— To act fast, make decisions quickly, and stay calm under stress — not emotional. That takes practice too. Women are often more sentimental, empathetic, emotional — so you have to train not just stress tolerance, but emotional self-control, the ability to stay neutral. That really helps in this job.

I also learned to get ready in record time. From the moment you open your eyes to the moment you walk out the door — half an hour, max. It took me years to learn that, because I can’t leave the house looking messy. After all, you meet people, and people judge by appearance first. At the very least, you have to look neat and clean.

What else? Punctuality. I’ve always had it, but in aviation, it’s crucial. I come to work 15-20 minutes early — sometimes half an hour. I’m always afraid of being late. In all my years of flying, I’ve never once been late. I think that’s every crew member’s worst nightmare — to oversleep on a flight. Ask any flight attendant or pilot — they’ll tell you the same.

— And tell me please, do you ever have an inner fear that female pilots are forgiven fewer mistakes than male pilots? I have a feeling that might be the case.

— I don’t think that’s true. Because the moment we step into the cockpit and take our seats, we’re no longer a man and a woman — we’re two professionals. There are no “boys” or “girls” there — only colleagues. I’ve never felt that anyone held me to a different standard or expected something special from me compared to young male first officers. Honestly, that’s never happened to me.

— And what’s the most unpleasant part of your job?

— Night flights. Not just rare night flights, but when they come one after another. The human body is designed to sleep at night, and we’re working instead — we have to stay fully focused.

Disrupted circadian rhythms are one of the biggest downsides of the profession. But then again, we chose this path, we love it, we find it fascinating. And for the feeling you get when you take off and land an aircraft — it’s worth every sacrifice. Without love for the profession, you simply can’t do it.

— Is there any “forbidden topic” among pilots — something people don’t talk about openly but still whisper about?

— Oh, everything is banal and simple. We even have it written down: no politics, no talk about “ratings” — meaning who flies where and how much. As for deeper topics… I can’t say what men talk about between flights. I haven’t been around long enough to know that. But from what I see, it’s all pretty down-to-earth: someone’s hoping for an interesting route but doesn’t get it, or the opposite — someone got a great flight and won’t stop talking about it. Just everyday things, work jokes. We’re all human — we share our joys and frustrations like anyone else.

— Psychologists often say that to detach from everyday problems, you should imagine yourself as a soaring bird, looking down from above. Given your profession, you actually see the world from several kilometers high. Do you ever feel like a godlike observer watching human life below? Or, on the contrary, does it make you feel how fragile life really is?

— Neither, really. But I do feel a kind of deep calm when I look out the window. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. Every time, I’m reminded that I made the right choice. So no, I don’t feel superior to anyone — quite the opposite. When you look at the world from above, you realize how small we all are, like tiny grains of sand in the universe. Yet there’s always this joy — the quiet happiness of knowing that I chose this path. It’s challenging, but deeply fulfilling. And when I’m flying, I often think: “Yes, it was worth it”.

— When and where have you seen the most beautiful view?

— Always when flying into a sunset. It’s absolutely stunning. Clouds at sunset are pure magic — sometimes the shapes and colors are so unreal, it takes your breath away. I often tell people who are afraid of flying: just look out the window — it’s beautiful out there. Forget your fear for a second — there’s a whole other world beyond it.

My favorite moment is when you enter a cloud or skim right past it. It feels like surfing through the sky. That’s pure joy. You just sit there, watching this beauty unfold — like a front-row spectator. And that’s one of the most wonderful feelings in our profession.

— You’ve actually anticipated my next question. Your job is all about precision and algorithms — everything is calculated and systematic. Is there any room for magic in that precision?

— The magic is right outside the window. It’s incredible! Watching sunsets and sunrises every day — that’s something truly precious. It’s easy to take it for granted, but you shouldn’t. People on the ground, especially in winter, often see only gray skies — the sun rarely appears over much of Europe. But for us, it’s always there. We see the sun every single day.

— The theme of this issue is “Air.” So I can’t resist asking: what has the airspace taught you — or given you?

— I wouldn’t say taught, more like gifted. It gave me a sense of freedom. It reminds me that all our worries are so small. When you’re high above the ground, with cities, countries, seas, and oceans beneath you, you realize that everything that once seemed huge is actually tiny. All our troubles — they’re just dust in the wind.

— A bit of philosophy, huh?

— Yes, I guess I’m in a philosophical phase of life right now.

— Wonderful. Tell me — what happens when the autopilot is on? You just switch it on and relax?

— Not exactly. Maybe just a little — you can recline your seatback to sit more comfortably — but the work doesn’t stop. We monitor the systems and parameters, maintain radio communication with dispatchers, keep an eye on the autopilot — making sure it’s really doing what it should. You can’t just trust the system and relax. We’re there precisely to keep it under control.

— Pilots often talk about rituals. Do you have one of your own?

— When I board the aircraft, the first thing I do while still on the stairs — is gently touch the fuselage near the door with my right hand and say, “Hello, my dear.” That’s my main ritual. I treat the airplane as a living being, a partner — not just a metal machine. You have to talk to it. And when you do, everything goes perfectly.

— You mentioned the sacrifices people in your profession have to make. Is there a point when you land and turn back into just a woman, a daughter, a friend? For example, many actors struggle with that — they stay in character even in real life.

— It’s different for us. Actors have to get into a certain emotional state, while we have procedures, flight stages — everything is structured. So when I’m at work, I don’t “become” a pilot emotionally — I just follow the procedures.

When you come home, you take off your uniform, hang it up — and that’s it, you’re an ordinary person again. With the same everyday, down-to-earth things as everyone else. Home is where you recharge. The job is intense and demands concentration, so time with family and loved ones is true rest. There’s no special switch — you just walk in and think, “How good it feels to be home.”

— Has your attitude toward the word “control” changed after so many hours in the cockpit?

— I don’t think it’s about the number of flights. It’s more about flying a big aircraft — serious equipment. There are so many procedures; everything is laid out precisely, and the job requires constant control.

You have to follow those procedures flawlessly, and “control” becomes, probably, one of the most important words in our work. It’s constant monitoring, analysis, attention — the process never stops, not for a second. It can be tiring, especially on long flights, but it’s the foundation of safety.

At first, it was hard — it’s a sitting job, and mentally you’re always alert. But with experience, your operational memory clears up, and you have more mental space for new tasks. Still, control is our essence. Without it, we wouldn’t be flying.

— Do you remember ever feeling real fear? Not in theory — truly scared.

— Yes, a couple of times. Once in Kaliningrad, we were landing in very strong, gusty winds. Back then, I was still working as a flight attendant. All the other aircraft diverted, but we landed. We were the only aircraft that made it. Everyone else turned around, but our captain decided to land — and he did.

In general, I’m not afraid of flying. I don’t feel tension, even when I’m traveling as a passenger. Many pilots or flight attendants actually become more anxious when they’re not in control, but not me. I just put on my headphones, fasten my seatbelt, look out the window — and that’s all.

— Almost everyone knows someone who’s afraid of flying. What would you tell an aerophobe — from a professional’s point of view?

— I think first of all, an aerophobe needs a psychologist. It’s an inner, psychological issue. Everyone has their own reason for fear: someone’s seen too many news reports, someone had a bad flight experience, someone is just naturally anxious. So there’s no universal advice.

From my side, I’d just say this: look out the window — it’s beautiful up there. Get distracted from the fear, just observe.

— I’d like to end our conversation on a romantic note. If you could be reborn, would you choose to be a pilot again?

— I think so. It’s an incredible profession, so interesting. Every day, lifting that bird into the sky and landing it — that feeling is incomparable. And it never fades, at least for me, not yet. I’m only at the beginning of my career, but I think my colleagues would agree: every flight feels like the first.

No two flights are ever the same — different weather, different mood, even your own inner state changes. Every time it’s new, every time it’s emotional.

If I could be reborn, maybe I’d become a bird. Sometimes I watch them gliding in the air — so free, so light. I think, “They must feel amazing — just flying.” As a child, I used to dream that I could fly — not over mountains or anywhere in particular, just flying, feeling the air. I guess that’s the thirst for freedom and beauty. So maybe, in a past life, I was a bird — and in this one, I became a pilot to see the same view.

— What kind of bird would you be?

— Something small. Not a swan — they don’t fly that high. Maybe a tiny one, light, the kind that can ride the air currents and isn’t afraid of the wind. Let’s say a swallow. They’re always in the sky — they sleep, eat, live in flight. Very much like us.