Female Frustrations

When I started my BSc, a looong time ago, there was a little talk given to us by our head of faculty, who called out a few interesting stats about my choice of degree, and salary expectations. 

In essence, it was: “Well done on choosing a tech degree course. Ten years from now, as a graduate, you can expect your earnings to be approximately double the average of those without a degree. As a female graduate, you can expect your earnings to be something closer to eight times that of the average for non-graduate women.”

I might have the numbers not precisely right, but it was approximately that. 

I glanced around. It was a room of men. Boys, really. But this was a male-dominated course, for sure. I was one of about 6 young women in that room of 80 people. I’d spent the last seven years at a moderately progressive all-girls’ school. This was a brave new world for me. 

“A woman in a man’s world.”

That’s how, since that day, I’ve thought of myself. 

I got my head down at uni, and did well enough. I got a job, working in a tech realm I loved. I was one of 5 women on the intake of 35 or so folks onto the Oracle graduate program that September. I was young, educated, privileged, working hard and partying hard as befitted my time of life. I saved money, too, and bought a house 8 months after I graduated. I was making my way in this man’s world.

I was ambitious, driven, motivated, and probably a little oblivious. I had a little arrogance of youth about me. And the confidence of education, intelligence, and independence. Everything so far had been in my reach and control. 

Then, out in that man’s world, I found things hadn’t been so easy. Sometimes I wasn’t heard. I had to talk louder, be thicker-skinned, be pushier, get comfortable with being uncomfortable; just to make things happen. Most of the time, it worked. I think my work was respected. I found opportunities as a very young person in a large organisation that weren’t just put on a plate. 

And, sometimes, it made me a little unpopular. I wasn’t yet adept at expressing my discontent with certain situations that only seemed to land on my desk because I was a woman. (Just a small note - I’m still not very adept at this sometimes - my tact is a work in progress.)

I was passed over for deserved (albeit minor) promotions. In one review meeting, my manager told me that my attitude was a problem, because sometimes I rolled my eyes when he asked me to go and fetch stuff from the photocopier for him, which was a regular occurrence. For the record, I was aiming for semi-mock exasperation, all the while feeling fully exasperated. I explained the semi-mock angle to him, but did say that sometimes he interrupted what was “deep work” (though this was not the term we used for it then). Why couldn’t he share his errands among his entire team?

He said he only asked me because I was always on top of my work, and my desk was closest to his office door. 

Actually, it wasn’t. I pointed out that he passed two men sat at desks between his office door and me. One was my team leader. Too Busy and Important to run errands (actually, he was a lovely bloke who was my ally on many occasions). The other was a newer hire than I. In fact, I was mentoring him. But he was Too Busy Learning to be interrupted. 

I scoffed. I didn’t get my promo, and I left the room. 

My boss didn’t really ask me to pick up his printouts after that.

Despite being my age, my mentee had been hired on a higher grade than me. The one that I’d just been passed over for promotion to. He had, apparently, ‘a year of relevant experience’. I did, too. It just didn’t count because it was in the company. This guy had Other Work on his resume. I challenged that, too, in earlier conversation about my promotion prospects. Why was I mentoring folks on higher grades? What specifically merited this chap’s grade, in comparison to my own experience?

The only difference - the thing that secured his level-up - was that “he asked”. 

I had asked, goddamit. Six months earlier on another review cycle. 

Several feels-a-bit-late-now promotions later, I left. I moved on to another company. Pastures new, same old manure. It was a story I saw repeated if not for myself, then for my female peers. 

Male colleagues given uplifts that I should have been able to match. Being called out for being difficult (read: a woman with opinions). Being told I needed to be less confrontational, but more prepared to say what I think. Less aggressive, but outspoken (they’re not mindreaders, after all). Do what you need to do; don’t overextend; meet all the standards and expectations; but then not go above-and-beyond enough. Too much of a 9-to-5-er. Be more flexible; but please-get-here-earlier-even-if-you-were-the-last-in-the-office-at-11pm. Don’t get in a relationship at work; unless you’re married; or unless it’s with the boss. Be this; don’t be that. Do this; don’t do that.

It was so much mental energy. I didn’t think it at the time. But now, with more mature eyes, I see it.

Now, looking back, I’m aware of just how much of my experience has been accounted for by my gender. Back then, all I was aware of was the constant round of career frustrations that I knew were, at least in part, due to my womanhood. Not of my making. 

What’s ironic, somewhat, is that I’m not your stereotypical woman, in my mental approach to the world. I have personality and intellectual traits that are traditionally more attributed to men. I don’t know if this is an accident of birth, nurturing, my schooling, or my early career experiences. But I do know that generally it’s been a bit of a problem in my world. A significant portion of men I’ve worked alongside just didn’t know what to make of me. I was Other.

Those who did Get Me, who were friends and allies, usually said “Yeah, that was an injustice”, or, as one ex-colleague told me several years after my departure from one role which failed to live up to its promise, “Yes, they treated you appallingly, repeatedly”.

The thing is, I’ve been frustrated. But I’m wiser now. I’m thicker-skinned. I see the world for what it is, and it irks me. I’ll stand up for myself, and roll with the punches, but why the heck should I have to? 

More than that, why does this still go on? When I was 23, I was braver than a lot of my peers, to call out wrongs when I saw them. I haven’t known many 23-year-olds who were willing to do that. 

I ally and support where I can now, because the world just isn’t moving fast enough.

Now, that’s my frustration.