I stumbled upon this insight just the other day, and it hit me like a revelation.
As I've aged, I've showcased my capabilities time and again collecting awards, earning degrees, pursuing training, and proving my expertise in countless demonstrations. I've setup and operated numerous successful businesses and been entrusted with significant projects, compensated well for advising on major ventures, and yet, a disconcerting reality persists.
I still find myself observing with a mix of bemusement and bewilderment as younger men, who do not boast the same level of education, experience, or expertise as I do, effortlessly accelerate past me.
I find myself embarassed, hesitating to say this outloud now, as there will be voices claiming that perhaps those racing past me are simply better at what they're doing.
But how much more must one do to validate their mastery of a subject and showcase competence?
It's a question that echoes within me, a sentiment that brushes against the edges of frustration. In the relentless pursuit of excellence, the accolades and successes seem to pale in comparison to the persistent climb.
In my younger days, amidst the echoes of my mother and her generation fighting against these very struggles, I laughed off their concerns. I was convinced that times had changed, that progress had been made, and that the world I stepped into was one where women held sway. After all, there was a female Prime Minister for the first 16 years of my life and we had a Queen! —symbols of a world seemingly transformed.
Yet, today, the echoes of laughter have faded. The reality is stark, and the glass ceiling, once dismissed, looms above. It's not about denying the achievements of those who soar past me; it's about questioning a system that seems to perpetuate dynamics I thought were relics of the past.
So, I wonder aloud: How much more must one achieve to shatter the invisible barriers and defy the subtle currents that propel others forward?
The question lingers, not as a complaint, but as a testament to a journey that, despite progress, is still fraught with challenges that demand acknowledgment.
During my school days, the awareness of the distinct treatment meted out to boys and girls was a constant undercurrent. The default setting seemed to be pitting us against each other, like we were on opposing teams in an unspoken competition. My response to this societal script was to defiantly align myself with the boys. Looking back now, it fills me with a twinge of horror, realizing how I distanced myself from the female tribe, all in the pursuit of being one of the boys. My parents played a role in fostering this inclination, and my natural affinity for climbing trees, math, and science further fueled my divergence from traditional gender norms. It took until my thirties before I willingly adorned a dress, a symbolic step underscoring my deep-seated desire to be taken seriously in a world that often seemed biased against my gender.
University life, particularly while studying Physics, presented another set of challenges. In those days, women in STEM were a minority, with less than 10% representation in my course. The spectre of quotas loomed large, casting doubt on my presence. I was keenly aware that many of my male counterparts believed I was there merely to fulfil some diversity quota. In response, I poured my efforts into proving my worth, working harder than anyone else to establish my merit in that academic arena. Even then, it took time for me to fully recognize the extent of my disadvantage. I vaguely acknowledged the scarcity of women's toilets in the department, requiring a trek up three floors to find one, but it was a subtle reminder of the broader disparities that I was navigating, often without fully grasping their implications.
Hospitality, on the other hand, initially presented itself as a seemingly egalitarian domain. Women were scattered across various roles—waitresses, bar staff, cleaners. It appeared diverse, and yet, the supervisory positions were almost exclusively held by men. Strangely, I didn't pick up on this imbalance. I was oblivious to the scarcity of female managers.
My role models within the industry were women operators, often part of a couple. In each case, I observed a pattern where the women took charge on the floor, seamlessly managing guests, staff, payroll, and administrative tasks. Meanwhile, their male counterparts gravitated toward the cellar, money-counting duties, chefing, and held court with the regulars at the close of the night.
At the time, I failed to notice these subtle hierarchies. It didn't register, perhaps because, like everyone else, I assumed these women simply lacked the courage to carve their own paths independently. The assumption lingered, casting a shadow over the nuanced dynamics that shaped the hospitality landscape.
When I made the decision to venture into this realm on my own, I found myself stepping into a world dominated by men. It seemed like everyone in my orbit, from industry reps and brewery personnel to suppliers, accountants, bank managers, solicitors, licensing authorities, and my peers—every face was male. Not a single woman in sight.
The initial reception was laced with patronizing tones. Genuine concern was expressed about whether I, as a woman alone managing a bar, would be alright. Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure myself, but that uncertainty fuelled my determination to prove that I could handle it.
Time and again, I faced the challenge of standing my ground against large, drunk, and sometimes aggressive men. It was undeniably intimidating, often downright scary. Yet, I felt compelled to demonstrate that I could navigate this space as competently as any man. At times, I downplayed the gravity of these situations, joking that it was easier for a small woman to handle such encounters than it would be for a man. In retrospect, I recognize the fallacy in that perspective. It was far from easy; in fact, I was more vulnerable and at risk than I cared to admit. Yet, opening a bar on my own meant embracing full responsibility, including the role of protector when necessary. There was no alternative; it was a choice I made, and with it came the commitment to stand up for everyone in those challenging moments.
After successfully establishing and running award-winning bars, restaurants, an events company, and festivals, my husband eventually joined forces with me. Admittedly, a touch of nepotism landed him the manager's role in one of my bars, despite his lack of industry experience.
In his first week, we had a meeting with a supplier who had been a loyal part of my network for over six years. However, in a blink, the dynamics shifted. The supplier, who had always addressed me directly, suddenly redirected all questions and attention exclusively toward my husband. It was a disconcerting experience, and it was evident that it wasn't about helping him ease into his new role. My husband, for the first time, felt the discomfort that had been a constant in my life—women swiftly excluded from the conversation when a man enters the room.
Naturally, he was embarrassed and disheartened. It became a pivotal moment for him, an awakening to the reality I had faced throughout my career. It's an experience that has left a lasting impression, and he's since been acutely aware of this subtle bias. Now, he stands firmly by my side, quick to back me whenever I call out these instances.
And I do call it out much more these days…
It's disheartening to acknowledge that the challenge extends beyond just the senior men in my professional sphere. More recently, I've witnessed a disturbing trend among some of the younger men I've employed—an automatic disrespect, an underlying expectation for me to prove myself as the boss. It surfaces in various forms, from a staff member urging me to 'calm down' during a meeting to another addressing me as 'darling' in response to a task directive.
I understand the scepticism from those who may argue that these are just their ways of communicating. However, I can assure you that these phrases are wielded as passive-aggressive tools to placate and undermine women. To experience this from those under my supervision is both shocking and disconcerting. One staff member even demanded a meeting so I could 'say to his face' what I thought of him, another approached a silent business partner to negotiate a role as my equal in the business!
I have no doubt that none of these young men would have dared to speak to or treat a male colleague, let alone a male superior, in such a manner.
In each instance, I find myself confronted with the exhausting task of proving, once again, that I deserve respect—despite my expertise and years of experience. The palpable jealousy directed towards me in my role is undeniable. These men seem to assume equality by virtue of being male, disregarding the credentials that should truly matter.
It's crucial to emphasize that this isn't an indictment of every man I encounter. Not all male staff exhibit such behaviour, and there are countless men who wouldn't recognize any of these dynamics. However, it doesn't diminish the fact that these experiences happen far too frequently for far too many women.
Of course it is not always the male staff, sometimes female staff also have a natural disrespect for a women in charge, it’s just that a women in charge also comes with loads of benefits for women, at least in my case it always has…
Over the course of 25 years as an employer, I've considered myself fortunate to serve as a role model and facilitate opportunities for countless women to carve out careers in this industry. Unlike my earlier experiences, these women working under my wing have been handed incredible opportunities to shoulder responsibilities, showcasing their skills, expertise, and passion.
Many of them have transitioned from these roles with newfound confidence, embarking on excellent careers within the hospitality industry and beyond.
Serendipitously, there were occasions when I found myself leading all-female teams. It was never about positive discrimination; rather, as a woman steering a business, I inadvertently created environments that not only welcomed but actively encouraged women. These spaces were safe havens, where they felt looked after, supported, and empowered to step forward and take charge.
Reflecting on the journey, I take immense pride in all the staff who have been part of my team. However, a special acknowledgment goes out to those remarkable women. If, in some small way, I've nudged them toward raising their hands and seizing leadership roles, then I am genuinely happy.
So here I am, perched at the pinnacle of my profession. My track record is a testament to my expertise—I mentor, I advise, and my success in the industry speaks for itself. People are willing to part with good money to tap into what I have to offer. Yet, I'm a woman, and that fact often seems to overshadow everything else. It's a constant companion, a subtle but ever-present force that I feel in the ebb and flow of so many conversations.
It's a constant undertone, an insidious presence that I navigate day in and day out. Not in every conversation, but in far too many. I find myself easily dismissed, overlooked, as if my achievements and insights are somehow diminished by my gender.
The difference now isn't merely the passage of time; it's the years spent butting up against that unyielding glass ceiling. While there may be occasional gaps and ways to feign equality, pretending that the journey isn't inherently tougher for women is, at best, naive and, at worst, something we'd rather not contemplate.
The struggle endures, and whilst I don’t anticipate making any huge steps towards dismantling the barriers that persist, I am finally less comfortable pretending that the glass ceiling doesn't exist. In my childhood, it resembled the sky, a vast expanse of possibilities. However, now, the reality is crystal clear.
