Death by a thousand cuts: the reality of being a woman in tech
“For a girl, you’re really great at Computer Science.”
A professor said this to me during office hours and even now, I clearly remember the weird feeling this statement gave me. At the time, I didn’t know why this compliment made me uncomfortable. Here I was, being singled out for being talented — a mere freshman, brand new to Computer Science, in a class of more than 50 really smart people. Why, out of all the conversations I’ve had, does this one stick with me, more than a decade later?
I think this “complisult” — this one professor’s woefully misguided attempt to be encouraging— was so salient because it was first time I experienced the nagging feeling of doubt that has been a constant presence throughout my career since that day. Am I actually good at what I do, or am I only good for a woman?
This is what is so insidious about the current state of affairs for women in the tech world. Even compliments come with strings attached. You know that even if you’re awesome and can keep up with the best of the best, you are still an outsider. Each compliment that ends with “for a woman”, reinforces the fact that according to many people’s expectations, you’re not supposed to be comfortable with technology or leadership. That moment in my professor’s office made me conscious of the fact that I was always going to be treated a little bit differently for being a woman in tech, regardless of my skills and talent.
Last year, at a Quibb meetup I went to with my husband, we were having your standard startup conversation with someone — product, strategy, technology, the whole shebang. I ended up doing a lot of talking because we were discussing a market about which I have a lot of knowledge. At some point, the guy we’re speaking to says, “You know, I thought you were just here as the cute girlfriend, but you actually know more than [your husband] does!” Once again, likely well-intentioned, but still painful and absolutely sexist.
Another fun example. I start talking to a man I had met before. He gives me a quick moment, admits to remembering me and my husband. His comment before turning away from me to talk to someone he perceives as more important? “Oh, your husband owns a company, right?” Nope, that was me. I own a company. We had a long conversation about it, actually. My husband currently works for me. Needless to say, I was just a bit upset that this man not only ignored my existence, but entirely forgot that I am the fucking CEO.
Unfortunately, it’s incredibly difficult to point out or even notice the less egregious or offensive examples of bias without coming off as “overly sensitive” or nitpicky. Even now, as I write this post, I feel guilty for complaining about the compliments I’ve received, despite the fact I’m consciously making a point that even compliments can be damaging. How screwed up is that?
Being a woman in tech is death by a thousand cuts. For every blatant and egregious example of sexism, there are a million more instances of subtle cultural bias. Each tiny, seemingly insignificant comment, positive OR negative, adds up over time to create behavioral and social changes in pretty much everyone. This is why it’s so difficult to change the status quo — you can’t just reform the worst offenders, you have to shift all of the sociocultural norms associated with these perceptions. Have you tried to consciously and willfully change an entire culture? Because there are a whole mess of social scientists, including myself, who are ready to inform you what a pain in the ass it is.
Right now, I’m interviewing for senior positions as a user researcher or product manager, and I catch myself playing down my accomplishments and cred. My resume and LinkedIn probably don’t brag nearly enough.
Why? I have a Computer Science degree from Wellesley College, which is as elite as they come. I have programmed in every paradigm, administered an enterprise Linux computing cluster, and managed a multi-million dollar mission critical system for one of the biggest tech companies in the world. I understand statistics, probability, experimental design, databases, systems architecture, and a whole mess of other “technical” things. I am awesome at what I do and not just for a woman.
Yet, I know, that to many, I will be assumed to be the “cute girlfriend.” I’m more than happy to prove them wrong, but really, should I have to?
Originally published at www.socialergonomics.com on July 11, 2014.
