Being Geek Chic is a blog about one woman navigating the male-dominated industries of production and tech. It's written by Elizabeth Giorgi, Founder, CEO and Director of Mighteor - one of the world's first internet video production companies. Learn more about Mighteor here.
Since I was a little girl, I’ve been told I was bossy. By teachers. By family members. By fellow kids. And you know what: I knew it was a negative thing. It wasn’t a mystery. People don’t say: “you’re bossy” with a smile on their face. They say it with disdain. They say it as a criticism. They say it because you aren’t behaving the way they expect or want you to behave.
For a long time, I shirked from the word. In fact, all those words above… those are all words that have been said about me in performance reviews at various jobs. And you know, I used to feel really badly about that. The thing is: perception is not reality. We all come to our work and our lives with a point of view and approach that is all our own. Some is nature. Some is nurture. But no matter how much you nurture me, I’m never going to be a quiet person. I’m never going to be a sensitive person. And that’s not a bad thing! On the flip, being quiet and sensitive isn’t either. It’s just part of what gives us the skills to do what we are best doing in the world. It is what equips us to contribute to society.
Which is why I recently started to embrace the word, bossy. Ask Webster’s what a boss is and the meaning is clear:
boss – bôs,bäs
Noun: person in charge of a worker or organization. a person in control of a group or an organization.
Adjective: excellent; outstanding.
Bossy has a bad wrap. And you know what? I am those things. When Sheryl Sandberg broke the world with the introduction of Lean In and the idea of #BanBossy - suddenly - we shed light and opened a whole new conversation in our culture on the negative nature of the word. On a basic factual level, Sandberg is right in her observation: “We call our little girls bossy. Go to a playground; little girls get called bossy all the time - a word that’s almost never used for boys - and that leads directly to the problems women face in the workforce.”
Her notion is that if we ban the word, we will start to recognize the leadership qualities in little girls earlier on. And I hope she’s right. However, I’m always in favor of a little rethinking and redefinition. I think instead of banning the word, perhaps we should own it. Maybe we need to #EmbraceBossy
Just look at all these amazing women who have been told they were bossy:
“Am I bossy? Absolutely. I don’t like to lose, and if I’m told ‘no,’ then I find another way to get my 'yes.’“ - Naomi Campbell
“I’m not bossy. I’m the boss.” - Beyonce
“Don’t waste your energy trying to educate or change opinions; go over, under, through, and opinions will change organically when you’re the boss. Or they won’t. Who cares? Do your thing, and don’t care if they like it.” - Tina Fey
“I’ll be bossy and damn proud! Banning words, please. Try banning the system that produces polices that promote inequity.” - Rosa Clemente
“I was an optimistic person; really bossy, gregarious and outspoken. ” - Mamie Gummer
“I just love bossy women. I could be around them all day. To me, bossy is not a pejorative term at all. It means somebody’s passionate and engaged and ambitious and doesn’t mind leading.” - Amy Poehler
And that’s a short list of those that were brave enough to talk about it. There are many, many more, I’m sure who have risen to power in politics and business and entertainment who have been called bossy behind their backs and to their faces. It’s just that simple.
I’m ready to #EmbraceBossy. How about you?
Next week, I’m giving a talk at the Women in Entrepreneurship Conference at the Carlson School of Management on the topic of being a vulnerable badass. If you’re around, it’s a free conference and I’d love to meet you in person. But here’s the real rub of this whole thing: In prepping for this talk, I’ve been doing a lot of reflection on how I see myself. Self-reflection - to me - is the art of taking in a lot of other people’s opinions, keeping the ones you like and discarding the ones that suck. As a result of going through this exercise, I’ve come to the conclusion that this is how I see myself:
Yes, that is a cotton candy wearing a leather jacket. I know. It’s weird. But it’s truly revolutionary in terms of my understanding of myself. Here’s why:
For years and years in various jobs, I excelled at my work despite not always excelling at interpersonal relationships in those settings. Don’t get me wrong, I always loved my team and we always did amazing things together. But then those annual performance reviews would come around and people who didn’t work with me every day or the boss of my boss would get to chime in on my performance and I would hear things like: Liz is Aggressive. Pushy. Forward. Harsh. Intense.
The quality of my work was never in question. My ability to do my job at a high level was always understood. But those other things, they stuck. And I couldn’t understand why I was seen this way.
I saw myself as: Driven. Excited. Passionate. Engaged. And Invested.
Over time, the things I saw myself as became less and less top of mind and I started to feel like I was taking on these negative identities that were ascribed to me. After years and years of hearing the same things over and over despite my every effort to evolve and change, I gave up on being less aggressive, pushy, forward, harsh and intense.
Instead, I decided to own it.
Because this was the thing that I knew deep down: I really gave a shit and that was better than not caring about the work at all. Some bosses and colleagues got it. And some didn’t. And that was OK.
I have to tell you: since starting my own business, that leather jacket identity has been my floatation device, my security blanket and my most comfortable skin. It has helped me deal with the fear, isolation and doubt of being an entrepreneur like a champ.
However, what I’m slowly learning is that the soft is OK too. The soft can be comforting. It can be a quiet refuge when you just don’t want to boss anymore. It can be a safe space to admit that you don’t know what you’re doing. And it can be the door to asking a mentor for help.
The soft… it can also be for others. For the people you hope to inspire, engage and collaborate with.
A few months ago, I was struggling with an employee and I was at a crossroads. My tough decision about how to proceed with this personnel issue had a unique overlap: It tapped into both my sense of investment in my business AND my desire to engage others in it. And yet, I knew what I had to do - I had to part ways with this person. To my team, I was decisive and probably insensitive. I told them bluntly why we had to move forward the way we did and I could see that they were longing for a softer side to the situation. Truthfully, I was devastated. But showing people that side of my personality had not been my forte.
I won’t tell you that it was an ah-ha moment. It wasn’t. But it was the beginning of a series of long conversations I’ve had with myself about the value of sharing the soft. Over the last year, I’ve decided to let my team, my clients and my business partners see the softer side of me more often, sometimes even in unexpected ways.
I talked about loving kittens and shared adorable dog videos. I gushed about the elaborate dates my boyfriend would plan. And I cried openly after my stepmom died. I still cry about it sometimes.
You see, I’m soft. I’m soft as a puffy cotton candy on a warm summer day. But I reserve that side of myself for very few people and situations.
However, it’s time for a coming out party. It’s time to be more willing to share that side of myself with everyone. And the way to do it is by positively reinforcing the good in it.
If you’re a manager or boss who is about to tell a woman that she is too aggressive, too pushy, or too rude - think again. I’m guessing she has a ball of sparkly yarn somewhere in her heart. She’s just waiting for the right moment to reveal it.
I’m not a nice person. It’s a bizarre thing to just proclaim like this, I know. But this is going somewhere.
I just finished reading Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In
and one of the central premises of her book is women are raised with certain stereotypical ideas about character and behavior that become deeply ingrained in their view of self and therefore, hold them back in their careers. Messages like: Don’t be bossy. Don’t be demanding. Don’t be assertive.
The thing we as women are always allowed to be: nice. Nice is safe. Nice answers phone calls - even ones she doesn’t want to take. Nice doesn’t challenge leadership. Nice works late and doesn’t mention it.
I haven’t figured out my final stance on Sandberg’s theory. I don’t think I’m necessarily her target audience. As I once told a mentor: I don’t lean in, I break down. I’m a smashing Hulk in most work settings, because stagnancy and the status quo just don’t work - for organizations that want to move forward or for me. And instead of allowing myself to be punished for this behavior, I have strategically chosen to work in organizations that embrace this quality.
Not everyone has deep-seated anger issues that can be harnessed into productive work habits, so let’s go back. “Nice.” Sandberg’s right to bring it up and start the discussion. I know that was her intention with the chapter and the book. However, I wish she would have done one thing: I wish she shouldn’t have made so many damn excuses for nice. “Being liked is a key to growth opportunities… BLAH, BLAH, BLAH.”
Nice is boring. Nice is vanilla without any toppings. Nice means: “I don’t know what else to say about you.”
I don’t want to be that. And I feel badly for people who do.
If one other things comes out of Sandberg’s book, I wish we as women didn’t put so much pressure on saying the right thing. This goes for work and relationships and being at the damn grocery store. The quest to be nice leads down all kinds of dangerous roads that end with complacency, passive aggressiveness, justification and boredom.
Facebook’s walls (as in physical walls, not digital ones) are apparently adorned with inspirational quotes like: “Fail Harder” and “What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”
I’d like to add to that list: What would you SAY if you weren’t afraid?
Maybe you would mention that you deserve a raise. Or you would take credit for your hard work. Or maybe you would finally tell your partner that you hate his stupid Troll collection. I’m all for being cordial, considerate and professional, but I say: Death to Nice.
And here’s the upside: when you do say something that is truly, genuinely, deeply kind - it will mean something to the person you say it to.
P.S. That lovely ice cream cone print is the work of Heather Future and if you like it, you can buy it here.
