Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner

(Well, actually, Baby often gets put in a corner—until she proves, beyond a reasonable doubt, that she’s capable of moving. By the time she’s done so, she’s exhausted from the 10,000 extra steps it took to get there.)

Heads up—this is another post involving sport (not the iconic movie Dirty Dancing). I’m sorry. I promise it has relevance to life in the corporate world. If you’re willing to indulge me, I’ll proceed. If not, that’s okay. I understand… no, really, I do. I won’t take it personally. Much.

Last week, I received The Girl Power Award from my mixed touch football team. And, as someone who loves a bit of external validation, I gratefully accepted it.

But this award has an interesting backstory (if I do say so myself), and one that I found illuminating.

The Backstory

I was new to this team and they were new to a higher-grade competition. This competition is full of nimble 20-somethings (which, as you can tell from my profile, I am not). It’s a far cry from the slower-paced, family games they were used to.

When I arrived, I was ready to play. I showed up just before game time (adopting the ‘just-in-time’ approach that years of working in 6-minute units tends to illicit) and ran on the field. I like to play in the middle, where the game is faster, more critical, and… conveniently keeps me from dealing with long, high-risk passes.

But every time I positioned myself to take the ball, the boys (young, nimble, and fast) would look at me, hesitate, and then pass to… another guy. Or worse, they’d throw a cut-out pass, skipping me entirely. The result? I found myself relegated to the wing—a position often reserved for less experienced players.

Trust me, I haven’t been the “girl on the wing” in a very, very long time.

The boys they passed to were less experienced and not making ground. We were getting smashed. And when I did receive the ball (once), I felt so much pressure to “make it count” that I made a mistake. That mistake meant I wouldn’t get the ball again. Meanwhile, the boys’ mistakes were met with “better luck next time, mate.”

In defence, I called instructions—move left, pick your player—but no one listened. At home, being ignored by kids and a husband is one thing. On a touch football field? I expect better.

I felt invisible. I felt frustrated. Actually, I felt angry.

I left that game swearing (not literally… well, ok, yes, literally… and figuratively) to never return. A shame, because I’d been looking forward to playing at a higher level all winter.

Recalibrating

After my amygdala’s tantrum subsided, I hunted for a more rational version of myself. I decided to persist.

This team didn’t know me yet, and I had to accept that trust wasn’t automatic. Add gender dynamics to the mix, and I realised I’d have to work harder to prove myself and be more intentional about it.

The next week, I showed up early (non-billable, productive time, of course) and passed the ball around before the game—subtly demonstrating that I could, indeed, throw and catch. I introduced myself, learned names, and established an escape clause for when I inevitably forgot them.

Each week, the trust grew. By the mid-season, I was an integral part of the team’s attack and defence. Go me.

The Corporate Parallel

This experience mirrored my corporate life.

In the workplace, gender bias is less obvious, but the consequences feel more personal.

On a football field, it’s clear when you’re overlooked or ignored. In the corporate world, the same biases are at play, but they’re harder to spot—and easier to internalise.

We’re not automatically trusted with big, client-facing jobs. We have to “earn our stripes” more than our less-qualified male colleagues. When we make a mistake, it’s seen as proof of our incompetence. For men, it’s just part of their learning curve.

In meetings, we’re spoken over or ignored while junior male colleagues are taken seriously.? (Don’t think I’m just regurgitating commonly parroted memes here – this is ‘lived experience’ (oh, how I love that term) and I can recount any number of examples.? Just ask me.? I’ll be happy to share.? In detail. Because, well, I’m a details kind of gal.)

Why This Matters

Recognising these dynamics isn’t about throwing up our hands in despair or disparaging male colleagues. (For the record, my touch football team is full of great guys with awesome attitudes.)

It’s about being aware of the invisible forces at play for women and minorities in white, male-dominated environments—and being kinder to ourselves as we navigate them.

Women and minorities often face higher rates of imposter syndrome because the messages we receive make us doubt ourselves. We experience perfectionism at higher rates because the consequences of making a mistake are often greater for us than for our male counterparts. We excel at people-pleasing because we're less visible and more susceptible.

Seeing these patterns for what they are allows us to:

1.????? Change what we can.

2.????? Accept what we can’t.

3.????? Assess our progress within the broader reality of cultural forces—without unfairly critiquing ourselves.

When we internalize these biases, we turn external challenges into personal flaws. This drains our energy and leaves us stuck.

Moving Forward

Instead:

·??????? See the landscape for what it is.

·??????? See your abilities for what they are.

·??????? Take steps that preserve your energy and enjoyment while advancing your career.

This isn’t about absolving yourself of responsibility. It’s about making intentional, strategic choices.

In my touch football example, I accepted: (a) most people need to establish trust in new team environments – this isn’t gender specific; and (b) I also needed to prove myself more than the guys. I rose to the challenge using humour and determination—tools that come naturally to me. Your tools may differ.

Over time, I gained trust, built connection, and gradually introduced strategies to involve all players for the team’s benefit. (Spoiler: when you use all seven players and capitalize on their strengths, the team performs better. Who knew?)

By mid- season, we went from being smashed to almost winning—which I count as a victory.?

I’m proud of my Girl Power Award because I didn’t let my initial reaction define my season. My anger highlighted something that wasn’t right. Once calm, I identified positive steps to improve—and had fun doing it.

So yes, people do put Baby in the corner. And yes, Baby sometimes has to work harder to escape.

But Baby can still win.? We just want to make sure that in doing so, she doesn’t burn herself out and that, instead, she’s kind to herself and has her own back.

Go Baby!