Rox and Roll

To the Men in Charge

Today's shitstorm over Twitter filing to IPO without a woman on the board, and the related articles about whether or not Silicon Valley is a sexist, racist place, and the accompanying Twitter frenzy, has me going /headdesk, /headdesk, /headdesk.  You see, most of the folks involved in this bruhaha have it totally wrong because they cannot admit that they are totally wrong.  I've heard their arguments: women have not yet come "of age" in the Valley yet.  "There aren't enough qualified women."  "Filling a board is hard."  "It's nobody's business how Twitter puts together its board."  "It's more than checking a box."  Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.  And the defenders come to Dick Costolo's side ("really, he's not a sexist asshat!" they cry), and soon, everybody wrings their hands, and who knows who's right anymore -- but here is what should have happened:

Dick Costolo should have immediately issued this statement:

After reflecting on the criticism that Twitter has failed to include women on its advisory board, we have decided to cop to what is actually a very serious oversight -- no, actually, a very serious mistake, and a disservice to furthering the advancement of women in technology.  While we did pursue female candidates for our board [God, let's hope that's true!], we did not prioritize highly enough the importance of having women at the table.  We could have tried harder.  We should have tried harder.  We have daughters, and we realize that it is important for our girls to see role models at the table if they are to one day aim for that seat.  We realize that Twitter could have been a game-changer here.  And just like our product has been used for revolution in Egypt, so, too, could our company, be revolutionary when it comes to promotion of women in positions of leadership in high-tech.  Companies have a social responsibility to do good, and "good" is not being done when so few women are advancing to positions of power.  There are historic, cultural, sociologic, economic, and many other factors related to this imbalance of power in corporate America.  We know that there are "binders full" of capable women whom we could have tasked with a Twitter role.  Maye they didn't raise their hands, but maybe we should have asked them to.  Maybe we should have cultivated that talent from within since day one.  But when a company is heads-down on developing a product that will change the world, sometimes it is too easy to have blinders on.  Today, those blinders came off. 

We can choose what to make of this moment, though, and we choose to use it to effect a significant change in our corporate culture.  As of right now, I commit to you that within the next two years, Twitter's advisory board will include an equal number of men and women.  We will challenge other companies in this space (hello, Facebook!) to do the same.  We will continue to focus on existing initiatives within our company to recruit and to retain women, especially those working in traditionally male-dominated fields like software engineering.  We know that we can do better.  We want you to know that we will do better.  We offer no excuses, just a sincere apology to the women who should already be seated at the table and to our daughters who should never question their ability to get there just because they don't see themselves reflected in our white, male faces.  It is unquestionably time for a revolution, and Twitter has always been up for that. 

For news on this initiative, follow us @ ...

***

Really, I could go on and on, but you get my drift.  Research supports that gender parity improves the bottom line and much more.  (I could find the citations, but others will as this shitstorm continues to unfold.) 

It is time for a revolution here.  There is no reason why Twitter could not have a board that is 50% women.  Check out some of these contenders.  I know some of these women and many more who are not on this list but who'd be great.  Doesn't Dick Costolo? 

C'mon, Twitter, be the change you wish to see in the world.  I have always been a *huge* fan of Jack Dorsey in part because he once said that his product was about systemic change over generations, not about when it is going to IPO.  I believed him when he said that.  Now, let's see him make good on his word.  Nah, let's demand it, for if women stopped using Twitter tomorrow, it wouldn't even be a thing. 

Now *that* is something that should worry Twitter's backers very, very much.

 ***UPDATE: Looking for hard data on this subject matter?  Read this.

On Sinead and Miley, on Sex and Power, and on Owning Womanhood

Sinead O'Connor's letter to Miley Cyrus about Miley's "Wrecking Ball" video, widely publicized yesterday, pushed me over the edge.  I have been biting my tongue over the "Blurred Lines" song and especially video, its "feminist" parody, and the controversy surrounding it regarding whether or not it's a "rape song."  I have held my breath about Miley's twerking, a popular parody of twerking,and over what it's like to be raising a teenaged daughter, as well as a man-child, among all of this madness.  But as a radically liberal, sex-positive feminist, I cannot sit on my hands anymore.  This post is writing itself.

And I'm going to start way, way back.

In college, I authored a thesis titled "Stronger and Thus Saner: The Athleticization of Women in Late-Nineteenth Century America."  Too long to sum up in a blog post, the thesis examined the premise of women's physical education's and sports' rise due to male doctors' desires to control women's reproductive systems and, in part, the related affliction of "hysteria" -- an afflication that infallibly beset anyone with a uterus. Doctors like Dudley Sargent suggested that if women lazed around a little less and exercised a little more, they would become better mothers to the future race (yes, it just smacks of eugenics, doesn't it...), stronger, and less hysterical -- or more sane. 

Well, if that's the case, the way Miley twerks, she must be the sanest woman on the planet, right?  I mean, that is *work.* Have you twerked?  I have.  I actually took a twerking *lesson,* and no, I am not kidding.  It's kind of like bellydancing: constant, exhausting motion.  That Miley is one. fit. chic. to twerk like that.  My hat is off.

(Yes, I did just move from the scholarly into the sarcastic, and that is kind of purposeful to set the tone of this whole piece.  Bear with me.  Like a Louis C.K. routine, this piece will give you a takeaway that'll make you say "hmm" -- I hope.)

Say what?  Miley is nude and licking a sledgehammer and gyrating wildly -- and Sinead thinks that this is because record company execs are "prostituting" her? This is not Miley's natural way?  She doesn't move like that to get fit and sane?  She does it for -- gulp -- men's attention? or to make men money?  Sound the alarm!  Feminists, take up your placards and March on Washington!  A twenty year-old is naked and trying to get some attention from men!  Except ... that has happened since, oh, the beginning of time ... and most of the most negative attention is coming from ... women.

I have so many problems with this on so many levels.  I mean, in her time, Marilyn Monroe was too sexy, too, and she wasn't naked and licking and twerking and twenty.  But beyond that, I had an experience lately that made me think twice about this male-exploitation model.  (You knew this was coming.)  I spent a week at Burning Man, where "sex positive" culture rules the nights and days.  Women twerked with other women at Slutgarden.  Men twerked with other men at Glamcocks.  Gay, straight, whatever, there were a whole lot of naked and nearly-naked people twerking and writhing and bumping and grinding, and there were no record company execs present.  Nothing was to be gained from being half-naked in the desert; there were no dollars to be made.  No one was worried for the future of our daughters.  People weren't worried about "Blurred Lines" (more on that in a sec).  We danced until the sun came up, and we owned our bodies and what we did with them.  We were confident and, yes, sexual, beings who drew the attention we sought and rejected what we didn't want.  It was a fantastic place to learn where to draw one's lines.  I fear more for a world in we try to censor that which teaches us boundaries -- one in which there is no twerking and worse, no conversation about it.  So really, I welcomed Sinead's letter.  It's a conversation I've already had with my own daughter time and time again.  Maybe more parents will have it now. 

But I'm of the ilk that the twerking shouldn't stop, nor should videos like "Wrecking Ball."  Why?  Well, what is our end-game here?  What is our goal?  Is it to stop the hypersexualizing of teenagers?  Or is it to realize the freedom that comes from acceptance that we're all sexual human beings who will act accordingly -- and that liberation comes from owning that sexuality, being empowered by it, and dancing however the hell we want to dance?  Other cultures have figured this out.  Being naked on TV in France is no thing.  And last I checked, their kids aren't having sex earlier than ours, or having more unwanted pregnancies.  What do we really fear, here? 

That leads me to the concept of liberation as part of the controversy around Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines," the chorus of which repeats "I know you want it, I know you want it."  It's a man singing to a woman and the song invokes the concept of liberation: "OK now he was close, try to domesticate you, but you're an animal, baby it's in your nature, just let me liberate you..."  And there are many more lines in the song that are as double-entendre-rich as those.  What is Thicke *really* singing?  Is he being pushy?  Is he suggesting that he doesn't take "no" for an answer, or that he knows what the woman he's singing to wants?  The fact of the matter is that *she* isn't represented in the song.  He's singing it.  And it's called, get this: "Blurred Lines."  We're not supposed to know.  It's walking *that line.*  It's making *that point.*  It's friggin' ingenious.  And I play it in my car, and I sing along, and God, I love to dance to it -- and I am not offended by it.  I do not think that hearing it will make my son think that women "want it" or my daughter think that a man knows what she wants.  For it is a song, and it is art.  We are not supposed to take it literally.

I know: whoa.  The hate mail, it's going to come flying.  Friends will disagree on Facebook, and I'll get some PMs and some VMs and some tsk-tsks.  And Imma make it worse right now.

I look around me, and I am surrounded by a whole lot of very rich, very beautiful women, because I live in Silicon Valley where we have enough in the bank for Botox and new breasts when ours get saggy.  We wear Lululemon and drive Cayennes, and we go Paleo and dye our hair.  This is not Portland.  This might as well be LA. 

I am far more worried about what our daughters see us eat -- or, more importantly, NOT eat -- every day, about how they see us diet, about how they hear of our botox and surgeons and attire and Miracle bras -- than I am about Miley Cyrus twerking.  I am far more concerned about how we mothers are fighting the aging process, dying our hair and still dressing like teenagers.  And don't even get me started on their fathers and what example *they* set in their interactions with women, from their wives to their waitresses to the people they seat that the table in their boardrooms (for it is mostly men staffing those still).  And no, I'm not being funny.  There's nothing funny about this scene. 

And yes, we can say that Miley is no role model, but hey -- are we? are our friends?  And plus, who says that celebrities are supposed to be role models anyway?  And how many of us freaking out about Miley Cyrus on Facebook have posted about the Kardashians or the Real Housewives in the past week? or have a People magazine lying around? or watched Madonna's "Like a Virgin" video the very moment it debuted on MTV and didn't end up going right out and getting sexually "ruined" - ?  We can't have it both ways, moms-of-the-world.  If we're going to preach, change starts with us, and with the media that our daughters see us consuming, and with keeping it real -- and/or, we need to teach them to see it all as entertainment, use these things as a way to start good conversations, and aim to get to a point where a video like "Wrecking Ball" just isn't a thing.

So here's the role I choose to play for my kids: self-confidence.  Self-acceptance.  Comfort in my own skin.  I make a point of making healthy eating choices, and of exercising for health -- things I try to role model for my kids.  So how do I model for them, when they're old enough (and/or as they're growing old enough) that I think it's okay to be a sexual being -- that sex isn't dirty or bad or wrong, and that women can want it just as much as men? that women can feel sexy and powerful while clothed in a boardroom or while naked and riding a wrecking ball? that men can play a role in women's sexual liberation by calling out those "blurred lines" and playing with the notions of dominance and submission, roles that really shouldn't be just in Fifty Shades books but, rather, are part of any healthy, adult sexual exploration? Is there any discourse over this to be had with kids?  I think there is, when they hit whatever the 'right' age is in your home, for I sure don't want them learning only from other teens or from MTV -- and, as far as I can tell, these conversations just aren't happening.

I think it's time that we rip this band-aid off, and that maybe Miley has actually done it.  I am ready for women to own our sexuality, for us to say: it's actually not just about pleasing men.  Maybe we get naked and ride wrecking balls because we like it.  Maybe we twerk because we want to.  Maybe it's high time that we stop freaking out because someday, our daughters are going to have sex.  Maybe instead, we try to set a tone such that when they do get there, it is as much about their own pleasure as it is about the traditional role of man-pleasing -- a role that, I fear, Sinead O'Connor folded right into with her letter.  I don't think Miley's video is about men at all.  I think it is about women becoming fearless with our sexuality, wrecking a dated notion of sex and power. 

And I kind of feel that if we started looking at it that way, then we can stop freaking out about sex and start focusing on things that really matter, like the fact that women are still making 77 cents to the dollar.  There sure is *nothing* sexy about that.

***

P.S. Amanda Palmer wrote a letter to Sinead today in response to Sinead's letter to Miley.  Sure, we can all roll our eyes that Amanda has thrown herself into the discussion -- but her letter is a bit more aligned with mine than much of the current debate, so I encourage you to read it.

Tomorrow, We All Lean In

Tomorrow is a big day: March 11, the date that Sheryl Sandberg's Lean In book will be released to the public, finally.  At long last, the book will not be judged by just its cover, or its author, or the many pundits who have lambasted it often without even flipping a page of the actual book.  I had the gift of reading this book pre-release and agree with what the New Yorker said: just read the book.  The contents do speak for themselves, really.  It is the closest thing I have seen to a feminist manifesto since Betty Friedan's The Feminist Mystique, which predates my birth by a decade.  I am 39 years old.  That means that it has been almost fifty years since a woman has written something like this.

It is about damned time for this book.

Clearly, I am a fan -- and that is interesting, because I was not always a Sandberg fan.  As someone who has worked in a variety of capacities (full-time, part-time, no-time, management/not, etc.), though nowhere near at Sandberg's level, I felt that she overused the word "should," making her speeches and writings seem prescriptive in a one-way-or-the-highway kind of a way.  (Call me libertarian; I do not like when people tell other people what to do.)  But recently, I have had a change of heart, especially after reading the many statistics shared in Sandberg's book.  Woman should lean in to whatever they are committed.  While at work, they should be at work, right up until they are not for whatever reason -- maternity leave, grad school, whatever -- and while they are there, they should sit at the table.  They should raise their hands, they should self-advocate, they should stand up for their boundaries, and they should be leading a hell of a lot more companies than they are.

But more than anything, they should stop making problems for other women.

They should stop criticizing a book they have not read based on what they *think* it might say.  And even if they disagree, they should have discourse over the subject matter -- not discord.

We undermine ourselves, sisters, when we have to mention the brand of the author's shoes as if somehow her alleged wearing of Louboutins undermines her credibility.  I have some Bruno Magli's in my closet; should I have refrained from writing this piece because I have a predisposition for expensive footwear?  Would sporting some Toms garner me some more credibility?

It is a sick joke how we tear each other down.  It is ridiculous how we critique each other for working, or for not working, for at-home parenting, for bottle-feeding, for having a housekeeper, for not having help, etc. etc. etc. -- or for writing a book while we sit above the glass ceiling we broke as if somehow having "made it" will detract from the message of how Sandberg got there.  And it is not just Sandberg we are after: we mock other women in power, such as Marissa Mayer for having a nursery by her office, as if that someone detracts from HELLO!  There is a woman CEO of Yahoo!  Critics may be right: perhaps no man in the history of time has ever constructed a nursery by his office.  But there are plenty of office buildings with in-house daycare, and that is pretty much the same thing.  Mayer's nursery is special, sure, but in my opinion, what a fantastic message that sends: I am a mom, and I am a CEO, and those two roles are side-by-side, not in conflict, but in shared space.

And so are we, women of the world.  We are in shared space.  We have chosen to live our lives differently, but that does not mean in conflict.  I have been so very upset at the negative backlash against Sandberg's book because so little of it has served the purpose of advancing the conversation.  It is just plain mudslinging and is one of the reasons, in my not-so-humble opinion, that we fail to be taken seriously in our demands for things like flexibility in the workplace.  There is a whole lot of whining, a whole lot of noise, and not a whole lot of action.

Sandberg's book is action.  It is opening a door, and we choose if we go through it, heeding some of her valuable advice as we do.  We choose if we go into our boss's office tomorrow and ask for equal pay for equal work, or for the ability to leave at 4 pm every Tuesday for our kids' softball games, or for that promotion that we have been passed up for by men who at every turn self-advocated better.  We can choose to nitpick, or we can choose to hear the overall message in the subtitle "Women, Work, and the Will to Lead."

"Will."  That's a funny word.  It's an active word that means, per Google, "the faculty by which a person decides to initiate action." 

And that is where I feel that Sandberg is most right in her tome.  There has been a whole lot of calling for more women in higher-up roles but not a whole lot of pointing out where we might have strayed from the path to get there.  There have not been many people suggesting that women need to do things differently ourselves if we want to break the glass ceiling.  I do not expect men to hold the elevator door open for me when they are trying to ascend to the same place.  Though that fast-track may not be what I personally have chosen to date, if it ever is, I know that I need to get there by my own, yes, will.

Do you have the will to lean in?  I do.  And I eagerly await tomorrow's news, when I hope to read of massive quantities of Lean In books being devoured by women who are so very hungry for the change we need to make ourselves.  This is a giant leap in the right direction for womankind.

Congratulations to Sheryl Sandberg and to the handful of friends appearing in this great book (Lori, Peter, and more) as well as to the team bringing the Lean In foundation to life.  It is so very worth it, and I am both grateful and exceptionally excited about yet more great conversations that will transpire from this work.  Tomorrow, let us all lean in to a new world for women.

The Princess Thing

When Petunia came into being, I -- with the typical arrogance of a new parent -- came up with a list of things I knew I'd do right.  That list included never letting her play with Barbie dolls.  Puh-leez -- Barbies?!  Tall, tiny-waisted, big-breasted blonds as a toy for the daughter of a liberal, almost-short, brunette intellectual?  No freakin' way.  Instead, Petunia would build things that would empower her for a future in male-dominated engineering, should she choose that path.  She'd learn how to tinker, how to cook, how to create.  She wouldn't watch TV, would play the piano, and might be allowed one baby doll, someday. 

And then she was born.

Some of my original fantasy held: she did have a toy workshop before she had a toy kitchen.  She created a lot; we spent many days on our backyard patio with her in her birthday suit covered in fingerpaint, decorating the fence and the table as much as the paper.  We made playdough.  We made block towers.  But ... we caved on TV early on.  Did you know that one Baby Einstein video = one adult dinner at the table without screaming?  Later, piano lessons didn't stick, but guitar ones did.  Baby dolls became a collection of American Girls, and then, there were those Barbies.

To my credit, I did not buy Petunia her first Barbie doll; that came from a cousin who was a collector.  But because we caved on TV, we soon caved on movies: Disney princess movies, to be precise.  And there were Barbie-ish dolls that looked that these princesses.  And she ended up with every last one, bought, mostly, by me.  I loved how she loved those princess movies -- how I'd get home late at night from graduate school and wake up to her playing "voices" with her daddy, with him playing a prince to her favorite princess du jour, often acting out scenes from these movies.  She had the dress-up clothes.  We took her to Disneyland and Disney World.  Pretty soon she was wearing all pink, all of the time, and, most often, dresses.  It's what she loved, and what she wanted, and I forked over the cash that bought it.  She was a girlie-girl, I reckoned.  It is what it is.  (And then later, when Dash was born, I had an all-boy, all-the-time kid.  Maybe there are gender stereotypes for a reason... but I can't resolve that in one blog post.)

Anyhoo, that little (formerly) all-pink girlie-girl just received an award at her school for being a four-sport athlete.  In her closet, there are still adorable, flowery dresses that she has picked out herself, hanging next to bin upon bin of Under Armour, tennis skirts, goalie shirts, basketball shorts, softball pants, and the like... and underneath that, she still keeps dress-up clothes.  She still loves her American Girl dolls and her princess movies, but, in the back of my mind, I worry: does she think that's what life will be like?  That she can be this incredible athlete, but the real "win" in life will be when she scores a handsome prince to carry her into happily-ever-after land, where she'll have her own little real-life baby dolls?  I have friends raising kids without the princessses for this very reason -- friends whose kids can play with Barbies, but who can't ever see a princess movie because of their male-dependent "message."  I wondered: did I get it wrong?

Well, that question got answered for me today, per this converation in the car:

Petunia: "Mom, you know what I wish?  I wish Disney would make a princess movie where the prince wasn't a main character."

Me: "What about Mulan, or Pocahontas?  They weren't so prince-dependent."

Petunia: "Yeah, but they still featured guys who might as well have been princes.  It's like the girl had to have a guy.  Hey, there's an idea: how about a princess movie where there are no guys?  Just strong girls?  I'd watch that!"

...

And there you have it.  You can raise a daughter with Barbies, and princesses, and all-pink ... and soccer balls, and science kits, and workshops, and nature hikes ... and she will figure out herself what her priorities are.  You can watch Miss Representation (which I did believe and enjoy, by the way) and wonder just how much your daughter is influenced by Barbie and the media and the handsome prince fairy tales ... and then you can watch your own daughter make up her own mind. 

Not all daughters are like Petunia, sure, but hey -- as her mom, I know that I once had all of the answers, until she was born, and now, as she approaches adolescence, I feel I have none.  And I fret and I worry and I second-guess sometimes, and then my kid?  She shows me that she sees the world for what it is, sees through it all, and will make her own road just fine.  Among the things she wants to be right now are a vet, an FBI detective, an environmental scientist, and an historian.  Not a bad list for a girlie-girl who still plays with dolls and watches princess movies ... and my son?  He's playing right alongside her, watching the movies (pretending not to like them, but watching just the same!) and receiving these "messages" in a different way.  He reminded me today of his plan to adopt six sons and not have a wife.  So much for the princess story!

Kids these days: they get it, they really do, despite our best attempts to know-it-all for them. 

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, It's Back to Work I ... Went!

Today was my first day back to work at a paid, regular job in over eight years.  I wrote about wanting to do it, and now, I have.  It's a bit overwhelming, of course, but it's also more than a bit wonderful.  I'm not going to discuss the specifics of my job on here other than to say that it's akin to the career I had before staying home with our second child and puts to use my graduate degree.  It's like I took a time-out and am picking up just where I left off.  I feel blessed and very, very happy.

But I need to say something more than that, of course, because this is Rox and Roll.

To my sisters who are also home with their children who are also trying to go back to work, know that you can do it.  There will be a right job for you at a company who will value your experience.  Have patience, and heed the advice I was given by an unbelievably impressive female HR professional who is at the very top of her trade (truly, you might fall out of your chair if you knew who this person is): don't be girlie bout it.  Don't make excuses for being home with your kids.  Focus on what you've done in the past, and tell the company what you're going to do for them.  Be action-oriented, loading your resume and your interview responses with action verbs.  Don't waffle, and don't hesitate.  Don't "I think" -- be decisive.  Don't list the ways being on the PTA has helped you to be bigger and better; focus on your past and your future in your career.  And prepare, prepare, and prepare more -- prepare for interviews, prepare for writing cover letters, prepare by reading industry publications and by talking to folks in your business.  More importantly than anything: ask for mentorship.  A female start-up CEO (also huge and OMG impressive) rewrote my resume with me and prepped me for interviews, hard-core style -- and the awesome HR friend put my resume through the ringer again and also coached me on what might be the best fit job for my personal goals.  She heard what I was considering and offered insights on roles that I might've dismissed, thinking I was underqualified or overmatched.  In other words, surround yourself with hardworking, successful women -- especially moms -- who are already there, and ask them for the advice you know you need.  They will never turn you down; they'll be flattered, and then you can pay it forward by helping another mom find her way back.  We are all in the sorority of motherhood, and we can all help to lift each other up when needed.  (This is not to say that stay at-home moms need to be lifted up -- I'm only addressing moms who want to return to work here, supporting their desires and offering no judgment of those who make different choices.)  Fundamentally, know that you can have kids, stay at home to raise them, see them off to school, and still return to work -- and be a valued contributor to a place that knows it's lucky to have you. 

Today, I checked a big, huge box for myself -- it's probably one of the most significant dozen or so days of my entire life to date.  Because for me, and for my family, I wanted my kids, at a young age but old enough to know that I stayed at home with them, see me dress up, take a briefcase in hand, and leave for the day -- and I also wanted them to see that Daddy can pick them up from school and deal with snacks and homework and sports practices and dinner.  I wanted them to see that we both can do the same things, and that regardless of our specific roles at any point in time, we'll still love and care for them the same way -- even when the day comes when we're both working full-time outside the home.  I wanted them to see that there is no "mold," no one way of doing things -- that mommies and/or daddies can stay home, that mommies and/or daddies can go to work, and that kids will be happy and fulfilled no matter what the combination.  Today, I checked that box, and it felt GREAT!