dare to dream

The allure of the pom-pom

I sort of deserved it, but it stung nonetheless.

One of our vendors (I'm purposely being vague) recently invited me and several other clients to sit in their box at a Celtics game -- nope, not a championship game.

In making small talk, one of the fellows asked me if I were a hoops fan.  I could have given several different answers.  Like, Yes, I really enjoyed going to games when I was younger.  Or, No, not so much, but I've enjoyed seeing the Celtics' have a winning season.  Both answers would have been true.

Instead, I said, "Well, I WAS a cheerleader in high school".

To which he responded, "And, now you're a cheerleader over at Rose Park."

©iStockphoto.com/Jeremy Sterk

Weeks later, I'm still stung.

Was his comment inappropriate?

Yup.

But, given that 'it takes two to tango', and that this man's comment, albeit the most egregious over the past year, was not dissimilar to comments made by other folks, I have come to wonder if I bear some responsibility for this sort of riposte. 

I don't mean to imply that I didn't relish being a cheerleader because I did.  I spent many, many hours making up and perfecting cheers; I loved cheering for my high school.

Even today, I'm happiest when I'm cheering on my family and friends as they pursue their dreams.

But in my professional milieu, cheerleader isn't what I thought I was going for.

So why did I say what I said?

Because I must have meant it -- at least a little.

I want to be respected professionally, to have what I say and do be taken seriously.  To have gravitas.

I also want to be loved, adored, and cared for -- don't all girls?

And in a professional context, I just don't think you can have both.

So...

I've been asking myself ---

Am I going to grow up or not?

Throw down my pom-poms, as alluring as they are to hang on to?

Or get in the game?

©iStockphoto.com/Klaus Larsen

Have you read Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series?  Her books play perfectly into our desire to be loved, adored, cared for.  Which is why, in my opinion, they are so intoxicating -- I read the first three in a week.

Have you found yourself giving mixed messages?   As a professional, parent, spouse?  Why?

Have you ever become angered by a comment only to later realize that the person was merely reflecting back to you what you were emitting? 

Even as I write this, it feels that I am grappling for, or missing, something.  What are your thoughts?

Related posts:
Getting in the game
If you get defensive, you're getting close
It's just a game.  Precisely!
Et tu, Whitney?
The hazards of getting in the game

HBR's 'How Star Women Build Portable Skills'

In the 'What is your dream?' questionnaire, one of the questions posed is -- What is the biggest challenge (personal or professional) I've overcome?  Who would I be had I not surmounted this?

Because one of my most daunting professional challenges was working on Wall Street, I was intrigued when my friend Stacey Petrey referred me to Professor Boris Groysberg's article 'How Star Women Build Portable Skills', a study which states that women are generally more successful than men in moving from one job to another because of the portability of our skills.

Groysberg states "women have learned how to build external networks of clients, associates, and other professionals outside the organizations - that remain intact when they depart...Not because women set out to do this, but because they [women] are often marginalized and have to fight institutional barriers, so they build external networks out of necessity."

I found Professor Groysberg's case study so affirming that I sent him an e-mail telling him -- yes, I really am trying to walk my talk of getting in the game).  This contact serendipitously led to an interview by Rob Weisman at the Boston Globe for his article on Groysberg's findings.

 

Can you relate to this as much as I can?   

You're trying to figure out how to get something important done, whether personally or professionally, and it's just not happening.

So you get creative -- you buck convention -- and you get it done (whether at work, in the community, your children's school), and in the process you find you've developed one of your greatest strengths.

What is that strength?

After you read Groysberg's case study, and Weisman's article, what would you add?

What thing have you tried to get done for which traditional channels were blocked, so you created a workaround solution?  What 'portable skills' did you acquire in the process?

Would you agree that there are parallels to Psyche's 2nd Task of gathering the fleece?

Have any of you read Clayton Christensen's The Innovator's Solution?  Isn't it true that as we are trying to get something done, we are in effect the innovator vs. the incumbent?

Related posts:
Second thoughts on Psyche's 2nd task
Rachel vs. Leah:  Reclaiming our power to dream
Book I Like:  There's a Business in Everywoman
What if Madeleine L'Engle hadn't dared to dream?
Valuing what women do

Valuing what women do

It was several years ago, but it seems like yesterday.

About a month before Merrill Lynch management was to decide on bonuses, my boss reviewed my various performance metrics, including, among others: did my stock calls make money for our clients, were the clients happy with my service. When he got to the metric "# of phone calls and/or meetings with clients", a number which was 40% higher than the average, he said:

“That's great, but isn't the number of client contacts high because it's fun for you?" The implication being: "I don't know that I need to compensate you for your client interactions (even though it helped drive revenue for the firm) because you're a woman -- and women like to talk on the phone and socialize."

Source: JIFormales, Flickr

With nearly three years of hindsight, here's what I wish I would have said:

“John (that's not his real name), I do like what I do. Correction. I love what I do. I love servicing our clients, and in many instances, I am genuinely fond of them. Aren't you glad that what I "love to do" generates revenue for the firm? Now, let's talk about bonuses for this year..."

In fairness to "John", his attitude is widespread and pervasive. And not just among men.

Let me illustrate by asking you the following two questions:

When you stay at a hotel, how much on average do you tip the bellmen/valets?

How much, on average, do you tip housekeeping?

Said another way, do you pay a lot more to the people (usually men) carrying the luggage that you don't need carried, opening the door you don't need opened, and retrieving the car you could get yourself, than you do to the people (usually women) who clean your room, something that you very much want to be done, and don't want to do yourself?

Now for a "not walking the talk, mea culpa" story:

When I was in Mexico last month, after the bellman hoisted my suitcase (which I could have lifted myself) into the back of a cab, I apologized (apologized!) because I didn’t have any cash on hand for a tip. Just hours before, as a housekeeper put the finishing touches on my room, I thought “I don’t need to pay her; she likes doing what she’s doing."

She likes to make my bed, pick up my towels?

That's not what I said last summer when the person cleaning our family's cruise ship cabin was a man.

We tipped him well, very well.

Hmmm.

Here's my take:

Because nurturing and caring for others tends to be a strong suit for women (I would argue it's innate), when a women gives/helps/mentors, we easily slip into a mindset of "she's doing this because she likes to, and therefore doesn't need to be compensated".

What's sad is... when she (we) aren't compensated for our work, we wonder -- did I not do good work? I'll try and do better next time. Worse yet, do we think -- is what I'm doing not important? Does what I know how to do not matter to society? If it doesn't matter to society, should it matter to me?

And what's especially sad is that when we're in this dump of a place, even a double-dog dare may not be enough to get us to dream.

So, let's change. Not a chump change. Or a small change.

But a big change.

A big wad of cash change.

Some suggestions:

1) The next time one of us goes to a hotel, let's leave a tip for housekeeping. It will be hard. Let's do it anyway.

2) When one of our female friends (or not) offers to provide us with a service – like cutting our hair – and she wants to undercharge, or do it for free, let's tell her we are going to pay market because we value her skill, her work and her time. Note: If money is an issue in the short-term, what about a barter arrangement?

3) Finally, when a woman renders a service, before deciding whether to pay, or how much to pay, let's ask ourselves: If a man were to provide this service to me, would I expect to pay him? If so, how much would I pay?

I'm ready for a big wad of cash change -- how about you?

A philanthrophic hero's journey: Luanne Zurlo

Last night I attended a benefit for the World Education and Development Fund (Worldfund) in New York. It was an elegant affair, honoring Jeff Immelt, the CEO of GE, and Roger Agnelli, the CEO of CVRD. It was also a happy reunion, as I was able to visit with many of my former Wall Street colleagues.

The event, held at the Mandarin Oriental, was all the more impressive when I consider what Luanne Zurlo, the Executive Director and founder of WorldFund, has accomplished in less than five years.

You see, Luanne and I started on Wall Street at about the same time; she went on to become an Insitutional Investor-ranked analyst at Goldman, Sachs covering the telecommunications sector.

But, in 2001, our paths diverged.

During a business trip to Mexico City, as Luanne visited schools there, she became aware of the generally poor quality of education in Latin America. Because she knew what education had done for the quality of her life, notwithstanding her parents' sacrifices to make this education happen, she felt something needed to be done - but what?

Her definitive call to adventure coincided with 9/11, a time when so many of us reevaluated our priorities. And in mid-2002, she left Wall Street, determined to make a difference for education in Latin America.

In undertaking this hero's journey, Luanne left a comfortable and secure, albeit stressful, lifestyle, to do something she didn't know how to do -- the starting and running of a non-profit -- including the herculean task of raising, dare I say, pleading, for money.

In her quieter moments, she will tell you this has been tremendously difficult, from the personal sacrifice, especially financial, to the responsibility she feels for her employees, to the generally tough task of building something. But she will also tell you that she is neither desperate nor depressed, that "4 1/2 years, c. $5 million raised, and 30,000 children educated" later, she is content, fulfilled even.

Yes, last night was about raising money for WorldFund, but it was also a tribute to Luanne, and a visible, tangible reminder to each of us, of what can happen when we dare to dream.

Sucker punch

Sucker punch, n. An expression that comes from boxing, used to describe an unexpected blow.

It's been over a decade, but I still remember where I was sitting in our 71st and 2nd Avenue Manhattan apartment, as my fellow Wall Streeter Luanne Zurlo shared with me the the pros and cons of moving from investment banking to equity research.

I was excited by the possibilities, and making this career move felt right, but there were so many aspects of equity research (all of them actually) that I feared: constructing the valuation models, writing research reports, making stock recommendations, marketing my ideas to investors, and the overall building of an award-winning franchise.

As I found myself putting in 80-hour plus work weeks so as to make my mark, my fears had not been unfounded.

But you know there was one aspect of the job that I didn't fear. In fact, the question of "What about the people I'll be working with? Can we all work together?" never even entered my mind. Not for one second.

Enter the sucker punch.

Because...

The most taxing aspect of my job as an equity analyst (both at Salomon and Merrill) was -- without question -- learning how to build consensus in a high stakes setting amongst Type A personalities (myself included).

What's interesting, however, is that in the receiving of and recovering from the blow of the sucker punch, I learned (we learn) lessons, lessons that are quite possibly more valuable than what we learn as we face the obstacles that we fear early on.

I don't mean to discount the skill needed to make a stock recommendation, but who can doubt the importance of building consensus, whether on Wall Street, Main Street, or in our own homes? After all, as Harvard Business School's Rosabeth Moss Kanter once said, "power is the ability to get things done."

Can you think of a situation in which you've been thrown a sucker punch? What lessons did you learn?

As you are daring to dream, what obstacles do you foresee?

Any preliminary thoughts on from where the sucker punch might come?

Photo Source: www.Flickr.com; Alive Film

Telling my Wall Street story

Over the past two days, I've spent several hours visiting with one of my dear friends, Sally Harker, who I worked with at Smith Barney in the mid '90s. She could, but kindly won't, share a firsthand account of my impressive lack of bounty early in my career.

As close friends often do, Sally gave me some constructive feedback about my blog. Which was -- you are encouraging women to tell their story without telling yours. And, for all your readers know, you may be daring them to dream, without having dreamt yourself.

Why don't you share what happened when you first moved to New York?

So, in an attempt to walk-my-talk, here goes:

When I graduated from college at 27 (nope -- not a typo), my husband and I were off to New York City, he to pursue a PhD in molecular biology at Columbia, and me to support us.

Beyond knowing that I had no interest in pursuing music (I finally settled on music after changing my major several times and accumulating 180 credits), I had no idea what I wanted to do, nor was I qualified to do much.

To any future employer, my resume (that I put together only after we had arrived in NY) boiled down to: music major + 2nd-tier university + woman = secretary. Indeed, a month after we arrived, I was hired as a secretary at Smith Barney's 1345 Avenue of the Americas office.

As the year progressed and I was less than completely overwhelmed by Manhattan (for the first week I wouldn't go anywhere without my husband or a friend), and I began to understand what Wall Street was, it occurred to me -- I'm just as smart as the folks on the professional track (e.g. investment banking analysts). I may not have a degree from Princeton, and I may not be an engineer, but I can do this.

Further motivation to "do this" came as I realized I was going to need to work for a very long time. My husband's PhD would take 6-7 years, his post-doctoral work 3-4, and if I continued to work at a low-paying secretarial job, we would be at the poverty level for a decade or more.

I had a decision to make -- job or career, make x or 10x.

Opting for the latter, I began to take business courses at night, while trying to figure out how I was going to jump to the professional track, a jump which would be difficult not only because of my lack of pedigree, but because I was a woman. Also, at nearly 30 years old, I was much older than the typical college graduate.

But a break did come in 1992, nearly 3 1/2 years after arriving in New York. And not surprisingly because of a mentor. My boss at Nomura Securities, Cesar Baez, took a chance on me, bridging for me the often unbridgeable divide between secretary and professional.

You know the rest of the story. If you don't, you can read it on the About page. But, in short, when I left Wall Street in 2005, I had accomplished what I'd set out to do -- and more.

Which is why I suppose Sally wanted me to tell my Wall Street story: she knows that I dare to dream, but she wants you to know too.

Have you thought about who you'd like to invite to subscribe to dare to dream?

Are you going to want to figure out what your dream is?

Or do you want to brainstorm about how to make your dream happen?

Fly me to the moon

Some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers. Garth Brooks

After I wrote about American Idol contestant Melinda Doolittle, my friend Vanessa posed the question: “What about Ashanti Johnson – she wanted to be the American Idol so badly. What happens when you dare to dream, and your dream is dashed?”

Vanessa’s question gave me pause, but now I have an answer.

Let’s take another look at the Hero’s Journey. The Call to Adventure is a crisis of any kind which the hero can choose to run from or face; the overarching purpose of the hero’s journey is to be a different, better person at the conclusion of the experience.

Is it possible that for Ashanti her failure to win on American Idol, the “no,” is her Call to Adventure, a crisis that she now gets to face or run from?

Or is this part of her Road of Trials, a succession of experiences which, if we survive, amplifies our consciousness?

Having had the experience of wanting something and not getting it, if faced well, will it prepare Ashanti for an unexpected, but better-for-her boon?

Let me share.

My senior year in college, I decided that I wanted to be a flight attendant. I distinctly remember sitting in my musicology class sharing with my classmates that the very next day I would be flying to Dallas for an interview. I even remember what I wore – a lime green suit. I was educated, spoke Spanish, interviewed well. I not only didn't get hired, I didn't even get a call back. I was really and truly disappointed. So disappointed. How could things have happened this way? I was sure that this career path was my Call to Adventure.

Nearly twenty years later, there are a million reasons to be grateful for that “no” answer. Whether it was my Call to Adventure, along my Road of Trials or a little of both, in responding to the call and facing the trial, I had to look for other career opportunities. Which eventually led to a career on Wall Street, and the unexpected opportunity to discover more of who I am.

In reading Anna Kerr’s blog about Jennifer Hudson, I wonder if Jennifer Hudson has had similar feelings to mine. She wanted to be the next American Idol, but in a surprise turn of events she placed sixth in 2005. After her “no,” she auditioned for and won an amazing role in the film Dreamgirls, and has been nominated for an Academy Award. Two years later, she's probably ok, even happy, that she didn't win American Idol.

And so while we may sometimes dream of being this or that, of flying to Manhattan or Mongolia, often there are much grander plans afoot, journeys that will ultimately be much better for us – liking flying to the moon.

Can you think of something that you really wanted and didn't get?

More importantly, in what way was your "no" a Call to Adventure or along your Road of Trials?

What was the eventual unexpected boon?

Bounty

My cup runneth over. Bible, Psalm 23:5

Several years into my investment banking career at Smith Barney, my boss hired Ana Gomez, a young woman born and reared in Colombia, who had just graduated from Cornell with a civil engineering degree. Adorable, effervescent and so very smart, my superiors began giving some of the more substantive work to her, bypassing me. I was devastated, and supremely jealous. (Yes, indeed – I wanted to trip the prom queen – desperately). Needless to say, I didn’t mentor her. I just couldn’t. I didn’t have it to give.

Recently I told my friend Lana Grover about the Intellectual Immigration Fund, and she said to me, “Whitney, before women will mentor (make figurative contributions to the Fund), they need to feel a sense of bounty.”

I experienced bounty at a Christmas party in early December. So that they could fete their friends with desserts, the Robisons spent an entire day visiting some of Boston’s best bakeries and pastisseries. Truth be told, when I go to parties I often go light on dinner just so I can have more dessert. But that evening there was SO much dessert, I found myself waiting longer than usual to eat, and eating less. I kept thinking – when I’m ready, there will be enough.

My childhood friend Liz Economy seems to experience bounty in her life generally, and in her professional life especially. An expert on China, Liz works at the Council on Foreign Relations, a non-partisan think tank. Last summer when she needed to hire a research assistant, instead of simply bringing her top pick on board and getting on with her busy life, Liz picked up the phone and made calls on behalf of several of the top candidates she didn’t hire to help them find great jobs elsewhere (for example, at The New York Times).

Why would she bother?

Because Liz felt bountiful – she already had enough acclaim, and in this instance, enough political capital, to feel she had a storehouse from which she could give, and therefore she did.

These days, my sense of bounty usually extends beyond dessert parties, particularly in the professional sphere. Because of this feeling of having more than enough, I find that I am willing and happy to share the professional limelight, to encourage others’ endeavors, and even expend my time and influence on their behalf. Of course, I have the “more-than-enough” feeling some days more than others. But when I do, and I can give, my cup runneth over.

In what area of your life do you feel a sense of bounty, and can give from that bounty?

As a community volunteer, mother, artist, professional, athlete?

Who within your sphere of influence would be a grateful recipient of a portion of your bounty? Perhaps there is someone who you truly like but just haven’t reached out to yet – maybe because you were scared. Could you start a conversation about what you know how to do or offer a simple word of encouragement?

Do you need to Do-it-yourself?

If you don’t design a culture, you get one you don’t want. Charlie Hughes, former head of Land Rover, North America

I recently interviewed several law firms in connection with one of my consulting projects. After contacting two all-male teams, I spoke to a third, where one of the partners was a woman. Seemingly out of nowhere came the thought – “I don’t want to hire a woman.” I wasn’t concerned about competence. She had come highly recommended, and after speaking to her I was sold.

So why did this thought flash through my mind?

Because I wasn’t sure how I’d interact with her. Given that I can count on one hand the number of female peers I’ve had in the last five years, I haven’t had much practice working with women in a business setting. Worse yet, I was reluctant to share the inevitable attention that comes with being the only woman on a project.

Whoa – stop right there!!

Here I am encouraging the formation of an Intellectual Immigration fund that allows for women to mentor one another, one that is powered by systergy, and “I don’t want to hire a woman?”

As I examined this pesky thought, I remembered a situation in which I’d had similar feelings. We had just hired a new senior analyst at Merrill Lynch. Andrea Weinberg was covering metals and mining stocks and she was much younger than me so I don’t remember feeling competitive. But, I do remember thinking – I don’t know how to interact with her. Do I treat her like one of the guys? Do I reach out and mentor her? What do I do? It seems I had learned the rules of playing on the boy’s playground so well that I had forgotten how to play with the girls.

Which got me to thinking, analyzing, wanting to understand, and realizing that I have two opposing impulses. I deeply care about and want to mentor and empower women. But I also have learned to play in a keenly competitive world where helping someone may mean I put myself at a disadvantage.

The question then is -- can I reconcile the two?

We needn’t go much further than our local movie theatre to understand the leadership style that is most valued in our society. Think about Harrison Ford in Star Wars, Matt Damon in The Bourne Identity, Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible 3. We love the rugged hero – competitive, combative, individualistic.

The traits of these heroes tend to prevail in corporate America, and girls and women are encouraged to adopt these characteristics in order to be successful. However, because women don’t usually instinctively come by these traits, we become even more competitive to prove that we are good enough. So that once we achieve some measure of hard-won success, there can be a piece of us that is reluctant to share our survival techniques (e.g. being the only woman in the room is not only fun, it can actually become a competitive advantage).

But, as demonstrated in the film, based on the book, The Devil Wears Prada, a woman as the rugged, competitive hero doesn’t quite work. Women receive a mixed message: society encourages us to compete like a man, but then condemns us for doing so. In the film, Anne Hathaway’s character is thrown into the competitive world of fashion, and she prevails, only to have her loved ones tell her she’s sold her soul to the devil. Implicit in the story is that for her to get the guy and keep her friends she has to quit the high-powered job. The male hero can prevail AND get the girl. The heroine has to choose: succeed in her ambitions OR get the guy.

My guess is that many women leave the workplace precisely because of this catch-22. It is in large part why I did. A woman enters the business world with her innate leadership style of connecting and caring, but then is encouraged to leave these traits at the door if she wants to succeed. She does so for a time, at least ostensibly, but eventually finds that she values these skills too much to not incorporate them into her work style. She tries to collaborate across departments and mentor junior employees, but her efforts aren’t valued. As a young worker she didn’t have the confidence to go out on her own, but now she does. And so she says: I don’t want this culture any more, I’m going to find a better culture, or create my own.

The irony of this situation is that women are leaving corporate America precisely at a time when our relational skills, those that focus on collaborating and contributing are most in need. Consider Thomas Friedman’s words in the NY-Times bestseller The World is Flat: “Globalization 2.0 was… very vertical—command-and-control oriented [symbolized by the mainframe computer], with companies and their individual departments tending to be organized in vertical silos. Globalization 3.0… has flipped the playing field from largely top-down to more side-to-side [symbolized by the PC and the internet]. This [has] naturally fostered and demanded new business practices, which are less about command and control (traditional male achieving styles) and more about connecting and collaborating horizontally (traditional female achieving styles).”

Did I hire the female attorney?

Yes and no. We hired her firm, but as it turns out we will be working with her partner who happens to be a man.

Did I finally mentor the junior analyst at Merrill Lynch?

Not as well as she I would have liked, but after sort of recognizing what was happening, I made a few clunky attempts.

Did I like "The Devil Wears Prada"?

I LOVED the clothes, but found myself a bit disconsolate when Anne Hathaway’s friends were so critical of her – even after she gifted a very expensive bag to her friend, and especially when she quit her job. I know, I know. It wasn’t her dream job. But what if it had been?

Now, back to my earlier question: Can we reconcile the two impulses? Is it possible to find or create a business culture in which women can thrive and feel empowered to use their innate skills and mentor other women?

I’ve bet my Wall-Street salary on it.

Apart from the Psyche myth (and Jennifer Garner's character in Alias -- sometimes), is there a story in literature or film, in which women succeed at their ambitions and have fulfilling relationships?

Are you already in a business or non-profit situation where you can use your innate skills of connecting, collaborating and mentoring? Tell us more.

Throw down your pom-poms

The older I get, the greater power I seem to have to help the world. Susan B. Anthony

Last week I spoke to a group of teenaged women (ages 13-17) as part of a “go-for-your life-goals” pep rally. As I prepared to pep the girls, I couldn’t help but recall my early days on Wall Street.

I had just started working as a sales assistant at Smith Barney’s 6th Avenue office on the 21st floor, in Manhattan. Near my desk there was what we called a bullpen, where a bunch of newly recruited stockbrokers (who were mostly men) sat and were trying to open a certain number of accounts per week via cold calling and sell a certain dollar amount in stocks.

In this locker room for twenty-something guys, testosterone ran high, and there was intense pressure to meet their quotas. These guys, faced with a lot of hellos followed by the dial tone, inevitably went for the hard-sell. One expression I liked was: “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist….to know that buying this stock makes sense.” Another expression they’d use on waffling male prospects was, “Throw down your pom poms and get in the game.”

At the time, I took offense at this turn of phrase. I had been a cheerleader in high school. I had aspired to be a cheerleader. I loved being a cheerleader. It was an important part of my identity in high school. And here they were saying cheerleading didn’t matter.

But the older I get, the more I find myself wanting to say to my daughter and to all women, “Throw down your pom poms and get in the game.”

Let me share what I mean.

Some months ago, I read an article in the Harvard Business Review by Anna Fels, a psychiatrist at Cornell University, titled, “Do Women Lack Ambition?” After interviewing dozens of successful women, Dr. Fels observed that when these “women told their own story, they refused to claim a central, purposeful place.”

Were Fels to interview you, how would you tell your story? Are you using language that would suggest you are the supporting actress in your own life? For example, when someone offers words of appreciation about a dinner you have prepared, or a class you’ve taught, or an event you have organized and executed, brilliantly. Do you gracefully say, “thank you.” Or do you say, “You are so sweet. It was nothing really.”

As Fels tried to understand why women refuse to be the heroes of their own stories, she encountered the Bem Sex-Role Inventory which indicated that our society considers a woman to be feminine only within the context of a relationship and if she is giving something to someone, such as recognition. It is no wonder then that a “feminine” woman finds it difficult to get in the game, to demand support to pursue her goals, and feels selfish when she doesn’t subordinate her needs to others.

In high school there was a boy I liked a lot, actually my first true love. I was smart. He was smart. But we were both very relieved to see at the end of the first semester of our sophomore year that he had higher grades than I did.

My freshman year in college there was a young man who I was friendly with. He was not my boyfriend, but nonetheless, I remember feeling relieved when I received a 96 on a test, and he received a 98. Somehow I sensed that if I did better than him, it would upset the equilibrium of our relationship.

More recently, one of my friends who is in her mid-20’s and who just started attending Harvard Business School told me about her study group which consists of four men and two women. All are expected to contribute, and are graded on the quality of their participation in the group. The other woman in the group, who was initially quite involved, began to withdraw after the first two weeks because the men had begun to ostracize her.

Again quoting Fels, “A key type of discrimination that women face is the expectation that feminine women will forfeit opportunities for recognition…When women do speak as much as men in a work situation or compete for high-visibility positions, their femininity is assailed.”

By the way, when I was 8, I had no trouble at all going to competing with Scott McAdams on multiplication drills. He and I were continually vying for the title of fastest and smartest – Oh, I took great pride in beating him.

The point of my musings is not to say that relatedness and nurturing and cheering others on aren’t important. I absolutely 100% believe these qualities are innate in women – and if we set them aside, we will have lost an irreplaceable piece of ourselves. But contrary to what others may suggest, “getting in the game” is also a part of who we are. When we recognize this, we give ourselves permission to dream, to move ourselves to the center of our life story, and to encourage the girls and women around us to do the same.

One of my readers recently shared with me the story of two women who have gotten in the game. Eden Jarrin and Heidi Baker are confident in their ability to create a better living space and want other women Do-it-yourselfers (DIYers) to feel equally confident. Thank you for sharing the link to their website www.bejane.com. Eden and Heidi -- Atta girls!

Get in your Game.