People Like Us: Why Representation Matters In The Workplace And Beyond
“Anyone can cook aloo gobi, but who can bend a ball like Beckham?”
When it comes to profound movie quotes, it’s unlikely that this is one many will instantly recall (2003’s Bend It Like Beckham for anyone that isn’t sure). But for young Asian girls like me that grew up being told learning to make chapattis increased a woman’s capital in the world, this was a rallying cry. Jess, the main character, defies traditional expectations and stereotypes to pursue her passion of a career in football. The film itself showcases the importance of positive female influence. Jess has never even considered the possibility of being able to play professional football as a woman until she meets another woman of the same age who encourages her belief in this.
Before you ask, no, this doesn’t end with me announcing that I went on to sign a four-year contract with the Arsenal women’s team. What I am seeking to highlight however is the power of relatable role models within a person’s sphere of influence, which for many is largely dominated by work life and media. How often are our decisions or career motivations inspired or dissuaded by what we are exposed to and see around us? This question has become increasingly pertinent in my chosen career field — technology — especially when considering a recent ITA study estimated that women occupy only 14.6% of leadership positions in the UK tech sector, and a mere 2% of that figure are black, Asian or minority ethnic. If the landscape we are surrounded by is so vastly different from our own backgrounds, what effect can this have to self-confidence in groups that often struggle to see representative success stories to aspire to?
A common answer to this is imposter syndrome. This refers to a psychological phenomenon in which people express intense self-doubt and the feeling that they will be exposed as a ‘fraud’ or under-qualified for their job. If I were to explain this on a personal level, I would start by saying that I work alongside some of the most capable and intelligent people I’ve ever met. When I joined the company, I was 23 and had just finished a graduate scheme. It was difficult not to compare to myself to more technical peers and I struggled to see what a background including a Law degree and an ability to make a snazzy PowerPoint presentation could offer. I spent the first few months in particular beating myself up every time I didn’t already understand a new concept and showed my relative inexperience. There was no evidence to suggest I wouldn’t pass the initial probationary period in my employment contract, no evidence to suggest I was doing anything but well, but I was somehow convinced that I should prepare myself to be walked out of the building any day now. When at the end of this period I received a promotion instead of a P45, I realised that maybe what I was lacking wasn’t competence, but confidence.
Sometimes imposter syndrome manifests as a need to over-work in order to address a perceived lack of skill (guilty!), but commonly also results in people underestimating their true potential such that they hold themselves back from new opportunities (sadly, also guilty). This is often exacerbated in minority groups who might already have a subliminal anxiety or feeling that they don’t belong. It’s easy to believe in something you can see, and for some groups there is such limited exposure to people like them that it becomes easier to count odds that suggest they are statistically unlikely to succeed.
The converse of this is gaining belief from others that have paved the way. Through common ground we might envision ourselves in someone else, and if they have pursued the very same thing we hope could be possible for us, it suddenly feels that much more likely. Media is an increasingly powerful proponent of this in the modern day. In one of the first lectures of my degree, a lecturer postulated that many of us were in that room having originally been inspired by the likes of Suits or similar TV shows. I was consuming the first season of How To Get Away With Murder rapidly at the time, and Annalise Keating was already as iconic a portrayal of a black female at the height of her field as I’d ever seen. I’d watched Legally Blonde at least a handful of times and the message of the movie resonated. Yes, I could go to a top law school if I set my mind to it and be fabulously dressed as I did so (the reality of scraping myself into 9am lectures was probably not quite as glamorous). All jokes aside, the seed of inspiration had been planted by what I’d seen on film, TV, the news. This was an option, a respectable option, and importantly, an option where I’d been introduced to the idea of a younger, female, person of colour pursuing this. I’d drawn comparison between myself and these fictional characters in positions of power, and become empowered from it. It didn’t really matter that I knew these examples were fictional or fairly unrealistic to what my own path might be. What it boiled down to was demystifying this possible career path in order for me to consider it in the first place.
The power of demystifying career paths can be influential even from a young age. According to a 2019 report from OECD, an international economics think tank, it’s estimated that children’s future career aspirations may be limited as early as the age of seven due to traditional stereotypes regarding gender, race and socioeconomic background. The study goes on to suggest that children are inclined to select career choice based on what is known to them, particularly through friends and family or the media. This can present an obvious obstacle to increasing social mobility and again stresses the importance of promoting a diverse range of career models from an early age. I’ve heard the term ‘glass ceiling’ before and thought it could be interpreted in two ways: the structural limitations to progression for certain demographics, and the figurative one created within our own minds. By creating transparent career paths and visible examples to follow, this can help to break through the latter.
If we want to address the former, breaking down long-held stereotypes can also form part of the answer. Sometimes it’s not just a lack of confidence or ‘confidence gap’ holding back certain groups, but the confidence to use it without seeming difficult or under-qualified. Perhaps this could again be attributed to the effects of imposter syndrome, but it’s also arguably controlled by outdated leadership archetypes. Diversity is more than just demographics, it’s about diversity of thought and personality. There isn’t a cookie-cutter exemplar model of what it means to be a successful leader, only what we perceive to be the model of competency from the examples we have in front of us. Again, if these examples only seem to represent a limited range of people, we might not be exploring talent that doesn’t fit within this limited definition.
Moreover, there’s been considerable research to suggest that women, particularly women of colour, experience backlash for exhibiting characteristics such as being direct and assertion that are seen as personality strengths in their counterparts. This can be linked to a lack of exposure to women in a position of power in the workplace whom may be displaying these traits. A similar effect is also seen in racial minorities that might feel they have to tone down aspects of their appearance, speech or behaviour to fit into their environment — sometimes referred to as ‘code-switching.’ What happens in turn is that preconceived notions of acceptable behaviour are left unchallenged, which can diminish confidence and career ambition in those that feel they have to hide their true selves to align with this.
Therefore, what can seem at surface value to be a lack of emerging talent actually runs far deeper. In reality the talent is there, but visibility of the opportunities and the confidence to take these might not be. The root cause and the answer go hand in hand. If we want to develop a diverse pool of role models to aspire to, then we need to promote a diverse and accessible range of career paths to choose from in the first place and at every level. Throughout my teenage years I’d rarely been exposed to career paths in tech that didn’t involve sitting behind a desk programming, and traditional stereotypes meant that I typically associated these roles with certain demographics. The reality is, I still don’t have a clue how to code (nor do I need to), my non-STEM background has often been a help rather than a hindrance, and I’ve been able to realise that I’m not alone in this. I personally took the risk to step into the unknown, but this wasn’t without my company throwing full confidence behind me to succeed in doing it.
If seeing is believing, then I’m somewhere on the way to fully believing in myself through the examples I see every day of what might be possible. The important thing is feeling that I have the freedom of choice, the very same liberation I had when I walked out of a screening of Bend It Like Beckham and received my first football shirt. I never did get around to learning how to make a good aloo gobi.
