Frédérique Nourdin, the first female brigadier in the Garde Républicaine and currently its second-in-command, is a small, friendly woman who admits to having “itchy feet”. But behind the bubbly personality lies a strong will, a formidable organiser and a tough stance vis-à-vis what she considers to be right.

Attached to being addressed by the feminine form of her rank in French, Madame la générale has not spent her career in the Garde républicaine. In fact she almost didn't have a career in the gendarmerie at all. “I didn't want to spend years studying. I wanted to be in public service, either gendarme, nurse, or midwife,” she tells me in the big office which has only been hers for 10 weeks in the Quartier des Célestins, headquarters of the Garde républicaine in the heart of Paris, a stone's throw from Bastille.

Faced with choosing between training to be a midwife or a gendarme, she opted for the shortest training period that would allow her “to quickly start working”; she was also familiar with the job as her father was an officer in the gendarmerie. She didn’t escape studying either, as she’s undertaken studies throughout her career and today has an MBA and a higher diploma from the Ministry of the interior.

“I signed up in 1983 for the first competitive exam to enter the gendarmerie that was open to women. Only the Montluçon non-commissioned officer's school was open to us,” she recalls, and then, wanting to check on the exact number of girls in her class, she opens a cupboard, immediately lays hands on the document she's looking for and confirms “we were a platoon of 37 girls for two platoons of boys.” As a former gymnast “the assault course was not an issue for me but running was much more of a challenge.” The boys, who'd all completed their national service “had an advantage over us girls, but when the first marks for written work came back they got a real shock because overall we had better results than they did.” A fact that still makes her laugh today!

In 1984 at the minimum required age of 20 she was able to take her oath of office to work within the “gendarmerie départementale” (see glossary). But three years later “I almost quit.” She doesn't expand on why, simply explaining that “at the time, relations between non-commissioned officers and the hierarchy were difficult.” It was the “extraordinary relationships” she had with her colleagues, the farmers and workers in her district that made her stay. Today she has no regrets. “I didn't make a mistake choosing this career,” she says enthusiastically, although she admits that her path has been “very atypical”. She's had a go at almost everything. Her former job was as head of recruitment and exams for military personnel of the Gendarmerie. She was also the first woman in charge of the prime minister's security and was in command of the air transport gendarmerie at Paris' Charles-de-Gaulle airport, amongst other things. “I'm always hungry to learn and can't stay put for long. After about three years, once I've understood the job and exhausted most of its possibilities, then I want to move onto something new.” But “I've throughly enjoyed every job I've had,” she stresses. Now she is enchanted by the presence of horses whenever she walks across the courtyard. “It's fantastic working in this exceptional place, even if I'm not a horse-rider.” Yet!

Married to an officer that she met at the gendarmerie officers' training school in Melun, 60 kms SE of Paris, they are the first, and only, couple of active duty generals in the gendarmerie. They have a daughter and a son. “Balancing our family life with our professional lives has required stringent organisation. But we've always ensured that one of us was home for dinner and putting the children to bed even if sometimes we had to continue working from home once the children were asleep.”

Although she sometimes has to justify her rank of General, Frédérique refuses to interpret these remarks as misogynous. “I'm not going to start doubting either myself or the confidence my bosses have in me,” she says. But she's fully aware that she has raised an eyebrow or two and has benefitted in her work from the “surprise effect” amongst the general public, notably early on in her career.

I, in turn, am surprised when Frédérique admits that she was painfully shy as a youngster. “Wearing a uniform helped me as did the intellectual gymnastics you need to undertake when you change jobs regularly but once the uniform was off then I'd lose some of my self-confidence. I'd have to set myself challenges.” She admits that she's largely, but not totally, managed to overcome this shyness.

What sort of a commander is she? “We all have our own style.” Brought-up to respect people, Frédérique never raises her voice “which is actually not loud enough” and she will not suffer racist, degrading or demeaning remarks. It's in her genes. She believes a woman has the advantage of “conveying a maternal image” which can encourage confidence and facilitate dialogue. “I was able to confirm that when I was the gendarmerie's equal opportunities officer. I had men in my office, sometimes in tears, who were suffering or were in difficult situations and they would confide in me because they could not confide in another man.”

It's not because one is a general that one can’t be coquette. Frédérique is amused that the uniform designers are being challenged. There's already a mistake on her hat and she would like to be able to wear a skirt for ceremonies and gala occasions but the Full Dress Order doesn't account for such an item of clothing. “A skirt with boots and the tunic of the Garde républicaine would be very elegant, don't you think?”