So, in my daily round of webpage reading, I come across some writer for Slate who is part of a Sheryl Sandberg "Lean In" group. Ick. But, I decided to read this one, because the title has to do with women not articulating their career achievements. In the very brief article (Slate's new web design not only lists when an article was posted, it also lists how long it will take to read each piece. Somehow a 1-2 minute reading time does not impress me that a given article can be worthwhile, but - whatever), the writer tells about how the women in the "Lean In" group watch an instructional video each month (I give Sandberg credit for marketing genius here - that women can't do anything without someone telling them how) and then do exercises designed to help them accomplish whatever the video tells them to do. In any case, in this one, the women are instructed to tell 2-minute stories of their careers. The writer is shocked - shocked! that the women credit everything - happenstance, luck, other people - everything except their own talent and hard work for achieving whatever they have achieved in their careers. She then wonders why this happens.
I hate to admit it, but the article had me thinking about my own accomplishments, and my reluctance to admit them as being something I brought about on my own. Truly, no one (men included) does anything totally on their own - the women in the group are on to something when they discuss factors other than their own personality traits in talking about their accomplishments - the point the article is making is that men are more likely (however erroneously) to credit themselves alone for whatever success they have achieved. It rankles, especially since we, as women, know there had to be others, including a mother, wife (or wives), numerous girlfriends, colleagues, etc. who had a part in making the Successful Man who he is today (I once pointed out to my dad that part of the reason he was able to accomplish his education, aside from his own considerable efforts, was that my mom and his mom helped keep the domestic ship afloat so he could study. He had honestly never thought about it. Of course). Still, to not give yourself any credit at all is equally ridiculous.
But, there's a reason for that. I know, in my various lines of endeavor, that tooting my own horn can have negative consequences as a female. In my job, I can't mention my advanced degree - it overqualifies me big time (though I hear, statistically, that I am not alone, which means a lot of us are sitting here quietly writing erudite blog posts, simply because, in the mid-1990's, the academic job market utterly collapsed). So, as the proverb states, I hide my light under a bushel, so I can make a living.
In my budo life, I have had a similar problem. I once fell afoul of a teacher because I (very gently) pointed out to his American shihan that I had years of teaching experience (more than the American shihan did), and therefore had an opinion that might be worth respecting. I was told in response that I should "learn modesty." I was not being "immodest," I was stating a fact, but it was a fact that should not have been stated, apparently. Before I went entirely independent, I was told in no uncertain terms that I had forgotten "my place." Wherever that place was supposed to be, it was not in the front of the room, however qualified I might have been. My job was to be second, even if the person in first place was not qualified, in the technical sense, to be there.
American budo is sexist to the point that I have received threatening posts just for having the temerity of being female and intruding into the "man's world" of American martial arts with a reasoned opinion on something or other. I would like to say I am making this up, but I am not. I have run into any number of men who say, with some sense of wonder, that they don't know any women who do what I do. And truly, in the States, there aren't many. And there should be more - but with those kind of obstacles, I am not surprised that there are not more. Other female budo teachers tend to be pretty low-key, too. It seems there are a number of darkened bushels out there. Some women teachers only teach other women. The thought has occurred to me, and in deference to them, they do great work; but to me, not teaching men is a disservice to the memory of my teacher, who was a guy, by the way, and a very enlightened human being.
Many years ago, there was a TV series called Remington Steele. The story was about a woman who opened a private detective agency, but she could get no clients because no one thought a woman could be a competent private detective. So she hired a handsome, charismatic and somewhat roguish assistant, and named him Remington Steele, to be the male face of the agency. Clients appeared, and the place took off. Numerous episodes showed the "real" Remington Steele using judo to subdue the bad guys. Every now and then her male avatar would have to be reminded that he was an employee. Cue the romantic tension, etc., etc.
The scary thing is the number of women who have said they were "inspired" by the series. Inspired to do what, exactly? To hire someone to front for you? Which circuitously brings me around to the "Lean In" group exercise. Women seem to have been inspired to credit men, circumstance, and/or luck, for their career achievements, rather than their own efforts, even in context. While the writer of the article admitted dismay, she also admitted to doing the same thing - crediting her colleagues or bosses for her accomplishments first, and her own smarts and talent - if at all - second.
I admit that I have been tempted to get a student to play Remington in my group, just as an experiment. If a male teacher showed up on the website, would the number of new students go up? And would I be able to stand them if they did? But for now, I have decided to continue on my "immodest" path. So far, I don't feel I have a student with enough experience to come up to the mark to be a good front for me. Though if I was to really follow the RS model, he would need no qualifications at all. Which was part of the original joke. Except that it wasn't funny.
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