Last night I attended a networking event bringing women leaders in my company together with some women from a prominent law firm in the city. The discussion was led by the Chairman of the Board from my company and one of her equally prestigious peers at the law firm.
They shared insight about how they use networking, and of course, some of the challenges of climbing the ladder during a time when each woman, literally, was the only woman in the room in most of her respective business meetings. They acknowledged that some of their struggles were generational, and really wanted to hear from us in terms of how they can lend support in a program that addresses today’s situation.
While I should have left the meeting completely inspired and ready to blast off, I was surprisingly wilted and full of self-doubt. My new shoes had rubbed a crippling blister into my skin and I felt disheveled in my suit. Sitting in a room full of highly successful women left me feeling like my own accomplishments don’t stack up. A few women volunteered their stories, and I debated sharing mine. Would speaking up make me braver than everyone else or just more vulnerable? Do people really want to hear what I have to say? And I had 6o minutes to ruminate on all of it during the commute home to my world of single-motherhood where I was certain I had somehow not met expectations there as well.
Did I really belong in the room?
We hear the statistics everyday: Women still make less money than their male counterparts in the same positions. The number of women leaders decreases as we look up the corporate ladder. Yet, women have eclipsed men in college enrollment numbers. We launch promising careers, only to see attrition in the workforce with marriage and the commitment to children. For those of us who stick it out, we constantly vacillate between our responsibilities at home and those at work, ultimately feeling like we’re not doing either very well. And there is that nagging feeling that maybe we aren’t good enough.
There seems to be an incessant need, with research comparing skillsets, to affirm that women are as qualified, or, even more qualified than men. But is citing the statistics going to fix the problem? Is it the men doubting our capabilities and holding us back or is it us?
Just because I am a woman working in corporate America does not mean I am in the pool of potential women leaders. I have to jump in the water. I have to want it. Has research been done to quantify ambition in women and men? I bet those numbers would look much different.
I would argue that to be fully aspirational, we are the ones who need to become believers in ourselves.
The funny thing is each woman who spoke last night eloquently boiled down her success in networking to a simple love of personal connections and helping others. Sure, making those connections brings in business and grows careers, but making it personal removes all the barriers that intimidation and reservation procure. Maybe networking should be looked at not only in terms of the end game, but the strength it builds in the moment.
We’re all going to have doubts at some time or another. It’s inevitable. But this needs to be the exception, not the rule. And we can’t let reservations get in the way of where we want to go.
My plan is solid. On my very best, confident days I am fully invested and believe in my approach. When I’m having doubts I need to remind myself of that.
I will be reunited with my Sketchbook this weekend when it comes to the exhibit in Chicago. I am excited, and I am nervous. It’s a very personal piece of work. I can’t even describe the feeling I had when I sealed it in the envelope, giving my baby away to the Brooklyn Art Library. I’m still not sure how I feel about it being in the public domain. But I put it there, and I’m committed to powering through my qualms because it’s precisely what takes me forward.
When I’m mired in misgivings it helps to think back to the last time I felt really strong and confident. And put myself there again. For me, it was Sunday, near the end of the 8 mile run with my friends Kathy and Dave.
So early this morning I affixed one of those magical antiseptic, cushioned Band-Aids to my raging blister, donned a running shirt with “Power to the She” emblazoned across the front and set out for the road. As I rounded the corner on the back end of mile 3, I saw my neighbor walking his dog. He looked at his watch and he looked at me and said “You must be feeling really good today!”
Yes I am.
No comments:
Post a Comment