Wednesday, March 9, 2016

How to Survive Meetings as a Young Woman: One Woman’s Rules (Part 2 of 2)

Earlier today, I posted my top 3 rules for surviving a meeting as a young woman. This continues that list, with an additional 11, supplemental rules.

The Other Rules

4.  I introduce myself to, and shake the hand of, everyone I don’t know. It usually comes after hugs and kisses to those I do know (see #10 below), and sometimes it doesn’t get to happen until a break, but I want to know who I’m supposed to be interacting with. I wouldn’t have a phone conversation with a stranger, so why would I do that with someone who is physically in the same room as me?

5.  When I sit at the table, I position myself as close to the center of the action as I can.  I am not the lithe young woman I once was, and women of my size sometimes feel the need to sit in less-visible space so as to not draw attention to themselves. It’s a way of making ourselves smaller.  But making yourself smaller in a work environment contributes to you disappearing in people’s minds. You will have fewer opportunities to speak, they will come after the tone of the discussion has been set by someone else, and they will never feel as assertive, even if you are being assertive. I would be contributing to my own dismissal.

And to other women who struggle with societal expectations regarding your size: stop apologizing for your body. My body is what it is because of too many hours at the office stress-eating. I didn’t give birth to a human child, but I produced a book, a PhD, book chapters and articles, briefings for governments, NGO reports, three speeches at the UN, what feels like 6 million Powerpoint slides, and without question over 1000 hours of quality teaching. My body’s not what it was at 22, but neither is my brain or CV. Love the story your body tells about you.

6. My questions sound like questions. My answers sound like answers. I know it’s unfair to judge women harshly for up-speak. But, I also think my up-speak is a lot like my I’m sorrys. They are there to soften my tone, to make me seem less emphatic and to make my comments more appealing to the men in the room. They are vocal habits that are not natural but were ingrained in me by a society that also uses those cues to judge me as less competent than my male counterparts. 

7. I don’t speak for the sake of having my voice heard; I speak when what I have to say hasn’t been said but needs to be. We’ve all been there – the person who uses the question period to talk about something that isn’t the purpose of the meeting, potentially derailing the meeting but mostly just serving as an annoying distraction, a subtle suggestion this person is an interloper to the “grown-up conversation.”  We’ve also heard that guy who is the fifth person to make the same point, without adding anything to the first four. He does nothing other than increase the amount of time I spend in a meeting. I dislike both of those types, so I make sure I follow the protocol I expect of others. It also means that when I speak, people don’t internally groan.

8.  I praise when praise is deserved; I criticize when it’s necessary. While I don’t speak when it’s unnecessary, praise for good work is always necessary. I make it clear when I think someone has done something good, even if mine is the 30th voice to do so in 5 minutes. On the other hand if I think an idea is bad, I criticize it only when and to the extent it’s necessary to do so. If others have killed the idea; I don’t say a word. If I see a problem, I raise it. But if you think you should, can, or will get ahead by simply piling on to criticism or tearing people down, I frankly don’t want to be in a room with you and I doubt anyone else in this field will either.

9.  I no longer volunteer for every opportunity. Yes, I was that girl her raised her hand Hermione Granger style throughout school – including all of law school. To a point, it was good for me to do this. I have so many mentors because when I was given the opportunity to work with them, I said yes without hesitation. During my LL.M. year, I undertook a schedule that I spent the next 6 years advising students against replicating, even while I replicated it for most of my PhD (Hypocrites Anonymous? Hi. My name is Tara.) My closest friends on the LL.M. and I would cook and eat dinner together at least 3x a week. Sort of. I usually sat working until the food was on the table and someone closed the laptop on my hands. After the dishes were done, I sat working while we watched movies or talked about life, love, and human rights.  I accomplished a lot, but it led to this conversation towards the end of the year:
            Female Mentor (FM):  Tara, I worry about you. When do you sleep?
            Me:  From approximately 2am until 8am.
            FM:  Tara, Tara, Tara. That is no good.  You need at least 8 hours of sleep every night for your brain.
            Me:  [Female Mentor], when do you sleep each night?
            FM:  I sleep every night from midnight until 6am.
            Me:  Ummm… how good are your math skills?

I find myself in good company at those Hypocrites Anonymous Meetings.

The schedule gave me great opportunities but I was regularly exhausted and generally a bad friend. Gradually, I learned to ask myself: What will doing X require me to give up?  Is X really worth giving up Y? Sometimes, it’s okay to sleep less for a few days, but it’s not okay to do that for a year (or 6 years).  

Unless the project is my project, or something I am truly passionate about, I no longer jump at any opportunity that comes up.  I allow other people to volunteer or to get passionate about the project while I weigh my options. I worried at first people might think me a slacker. But not every opportunity is an opportunity worth taking. Healthy choices do not make you a slacker; they make you healthy.

10. Despite what all of the above might suggest, I also never lose sight of who I actually am and I make sure I portray my genuine self in meetings. My jokes are jokes that come to me as the day evolves, not well-honed stories trotted out to show how cool I am. I am sarcastic and irreverent at times. I swear too much. (While I still maintain that last one is a part of my cultural heritage and a sign of my genius, I realize not everyone feels it’s appropriate, so I try to limit it at meetings.) All of those quirks and drawbacks come out clearly when you meet me, and I don’t try to hide them because ultimately I don’t “network” at meetings; I look for fellow travelers and kindred spirits. I make friends with people who I actually like, and they get follow up “It was lovely meeting you” emails. I then actively work to create opportunities to partner with them in the future on research or activities.

I don’t try to force connections with people just because they have fancy titles, and if I think someone’s a bit of a jerk, that’s going to be obvious regardless of how fancy that title is. (I happen to be lucky that I actually and genuinely like a large number of people I work with. When I go to business & human rights conferences, I am practically guaranteed to have at least 1 good friend show up. That means sincere hugs, a beer or two after, cooing over children, and at least one real conversation about how they are doing in life.)

11. Related to #9, I moderate my vocal pitch, but not my passion or beliefs. The treatment of Hillary Clinton makes it clear that women will always be viewed as too passionate or not passionate enough. We will never be allowed to hit that sweet spot. We must perpetually live in a house where Goldilocks never gets to try Baby Bear’s things. I don’t want to spend my time worrying about whether I’m too hot or too cold, too soft or too hard. I want men to be able to hear me, but I also want them to understand me. That will only come when I’m comfortable conveying my feelings, including the depths of them, through my comments.

12. I stand up for other women when I hear the subtle sexism come out. A few years ago, I was at a meeting where I was (again) the most junior person in the room. There were a few more women this time, including Margot Solomon. After the meeting, we had beers before heading to our trains (Margot is amongst those people I sincerely enjoy being around). Our teaching schedules and methods came up and I explained the rules I employ in the classroom. One of the men (who I now do really like) said he thought I was “Pollyanna” and there was no way I was as tough as I was pretending to be. Margot immediately spoke up. She pointed out how sexism affects the perception of female lecturers, and noted that while I might not be tough the way male teachers are, she knew me well enough by then to know I was tough. In about 2 minutes, she was able to lay bare the implicit sexism in the comment, stand up for me, and show me one way to challenge sexism tactfully but forcefully. I always hope I emulate that when it becomes necessary.

13. I promote other women and junior academics who aren’t in the meeting. I have been mentored by some of the greatest men in human rights, so of course I’m going to want to invite them whenever I can to wherever I can. But, that has to be complemented by the realization that women’s careers can get sidetracked between 27 and 47 if they aren’t equally invited to high-profile opportunities. Also, junior academics regardless of gender need these opportunities, so I try to think of who doesn’t fit the stereotype of invitees and how can they fit into what we’re doing.  Then, I revert to rule #3. Occasionally, men my age grumble about my constant need to point out All Male Panels but I’ve never seen a man who is 10 or 20 years older air such a grievance. They know that that this is how women get sidelined between 27 and 47.

14. I make sure that the youngest woman in the room has a spot at the table and a chance to voice her opinion. If I hear her say, “I know I’m not an expert, but …,” “I’m just a junior researcher, but ..,” or “I’m just here to take notes, but …” I gently pull her aside later and remind her that she wouldn’t be in the meeting if all we needed was a pretty decoration – we have paintings for that, and technology that can record our conversation for posterity. She’s there because she’s proven herself worthy of being there – to someone at least, even if it’s not yet me. She needs to know and hear that.

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