In Sept. 2023, when Captain Heather Glogolich joined the NJIT Police Department, she entered a reality that many women in law enforcement know all too well. Out of the entire department, there were just two other female officers. One has since retired.
That is why, less than a year later, seeing an entirely female NJIT police force working a continuous 48-hour shift felt like something larger than a schedule change. For two days straight, every call was handled by female police officers. It was not a stunt or a photo opportunity; it was federal work performed by people who had long been underrepresented in the field they were serving in.
Over those 48 hours, the officers made 72 motor vehicle stops, towed seven cars, made an arrest, and completed 13 parking enforcements. In the midst of it all, they managed to do something more important — they stepped out of their cars, met students where they were, and talked. “We had seven citizen contacts,” Glogolich says. “That’s just us getting out of the car and talking to students and developing that relationship.”
For alternate dispatcher Justine Soto, the experience meant something deeply personal. “When I started here, I was one of three police officers,” she said. “Now we’ve grown so much. The whole shift just felt like I was with family.”
That sense of belonging has not always been easy to build. When Glogolich joined NJIT, she made it her goal to recruit and empower women who were already thriving in other agencies. “Once I got here, we were able to recruit ten incredible females from other agencies that have transferred in,” she said. The results were historic. NJIT achieved the 30 by 30 pledge, a national goal to reach 30 percent female representation in law enforcement by 2030, five years early.
For Glogolich, those numbers symbolize what visibility can do. “I have been asked recently, ‘If women want equality, why do you have to celebrate being individual on things?’” she said. “It comes down to representation, and being an example for other women to say, ‘Hey, it can be done.’ Because this is still a male-dominated profession, and that can make it a little difficult to have the conversations that women need to have with those who do not have the understanding of what it is like to be a woman.”
The 48-hour shift revealed what that understanding might look like in action. The work itself was the same, but the atmosphere was different. “There was a different kind of camaraderie,” Glogolich said. “All females empowering each other, helping each other, and we all worked together very well. It was also nice to see recognition from the public, because there was a different reaction seeing all female officers outside. We also kept getting group messages from other members of our agency saying they had never seen this many females working at the same time.”
Still, the visibility comes with a cost. “There unfortunately was a lot of negativity that came with this shift in the comments,” Glogolich admits. “I don’t know if you saw our social media, but I’ve never felt less safe in my life in some of the comments.”
That backlash underscored what women in policing already know, that progress rarely comes without resistance. Yet even amid hostility, the officers found strength in solidarity. “For us, it was really just coming together,” Glogolich says. “Sometimes these girls never have an opportunity to work together, since the schedules don’t overlap. Learning from each other, having that camaraderie, being able to be this sign of hope for girls who may not have ever been encouraged to do this job was really important to us.”
Their celebration of Women’s History Month grew from the same belief. The department attended the New Jersey Women in Law Enforcement Conference, a three-day event where even some of NJIT’s male officers came to show support. That kind of shared presence, Glogolich said, matters as much as representation itself. “For us, it was really just coming together. What came out of it was even better bonds.”
The 48-hour shift was never meant to separate the women from their peers. It was about unity, about standing together as officers and showing that strength takes many forms. It was a reminder that a more diverse police force is an expansion of tradition rather than a challenge to it.
For the women who wore the badge that weekend, it was also a promise to the students who watched, the girls who never pictured themselves in uniform, and the next generation of law enforcement. It was proof that women can belong in law enforcement without needing to prove why they belong.
Becoming a police officer isn’t reserved for a certain group or gender, but for those who care deeply about their communities. That’s what made those 48 hours matter the most: not because they were extraordinary, but because they showed what normal could look like.
