I remember feeling that the only way I’d ever be in a position of leadership was to found my own company and appoint myself the CEO.
A Career Retrospective—10 years working in tech
sailor mercury
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Architectural features in Frederiksberg, the enclave of Copenhagen where I live
I sew bags mostly. I didn’t sew this one, though. I bought it at a flea market for SIX dollars. It’s French! It’s got FRILLS! It’s got LACE! It’s got SEQUINS! It’s got BEADS and EMBELLISHMENTS! All of which I love. I call it my rococco bag. This photo was taken last week and is completely unretouched.

I Did This

I started my own company with me as CEO. I promoted and sold Danish medical wet wipes in Southeast Asia. It is still trading.

I, too, am an engineer, mechanical.

I too, love sewing.

I, too, love art and doodling. I’ve even included some of them on Medium. In this article, for example:

And this one:

Our trajectories seem remarkably similar.

I know another girl who is an engineer and gives embroidery classes. I wonder if there’s a connection. I often call sewing 2-D engineering.

Check out my instagram sewyourownknickers. My goal in life is to encourage all women to sew their own panties. It’s unsustainable to continue to support underwear manufacturers when there are acres of unused advertising t-shirts thrown unused in the backs of closets.

I, too, am angry.

I went to the police about sexual harassment in the workplace when I was twenty. I wrote about it here on Medium but deleted the article when nobody read it. Now I wish I’d kept it. It would probably have gotten more traction today.

Another funny thing: On March 10, I wrote a response to Ev Williams, the founder of Medium and Twitter, that also was a retrospective of my career in tech, without having seen your article.

I, too, made an official complaint about sexual harassment in the workplace.

The local country police came to my workplace to investigate.

As luck would have it, one of the coworkers in question was in my office with his back to the door holding an oil dispenser between his legs asking me if I knew what he’d like to do with it when the policeman walked in.

I felt very uncomfortable as the officer filled out the report. He was kind but asked me very specifically what happened. Two of the men pinched my bottom and pinched my breasts repeatedly. Naturally I pushed them away and told them to stop.

Sometimes they would come into the office with pornographic photos and push them in my face.

The story has since entered local folklore in the rural town near where I grew up. The police were very kind; they did what they had to do. I chose to not press charges. I just wanted my coworkers to stop and they did after getting a telling off from the policeman.

I warned them several times.

They simply didn’t believe that I would file a report.


Sometimes the policeman meets my sister at social events. At first she didn’t understand why he was so concerned about her welfare but we soon realized that he had mistaken her for me.

I was touched by his concern, though misdirected at my sister and never forgot his kindness and how effective he was in solving the problem.

Once, on an engineering job, I complained at our weekly meeting that I felt uncomfortable when my colleagues addressed my breasts and not my face.

The ensuing silence became unendurable for one colleague who burst out,

“But I don’t know where to look”

“Not you, Frank.” I reassured him.