Recently, I delivered a free masterclass on a negotiation framework that has helped hundreds of women, including me. I targeted women in tech as I know from my own experience how often we miss out on salaries and promotions because we don’t have the tools to negotiate or the confidence to do it.
If I go by their first name, all attendees were women. All was going reasonably well, with positive engagement from attendees in the chat, when, in reply to one of my questions about negotiation, a woman in the audience wrote that my repeated use of a specific word during the session made it unbearable to listen to.
I was so surprised that I asked for details, to which the woman articulated how bad it was, and I’d realise it once I get the recording. I thanked her for the feedback, and I continued with the masterclass.
However, that had a negative impact on the audience’s comments, which stopped for a long while. To my surprise, at the end of the session, somebody said that they knew the person and that, paradoxically, she was part of their women in tech group at work.
When the session ended, I was surprised by how hurt I was. As a director of support with over 20 years of experience delivering services to customers worldwide, I’ve been insulted, shouted at, and interrupted during webinars, training sessions, and meetings.
Why did this feel so bad?
Brains like to find explanations for everything, so it went into the rabbit hole of “What she could have done differently?”
- Dropped from the session
- Send a direct chat with her comment
- Emailed me her feedback
What I could have done differently?
- Queried her about her reasons for delivering that kind of feedback in that form
- Rebuked her comment
- Removed her from the session
And of course, I tried to figure out the causes of her behaviour and my reaction… I’ll spare the details and get to the aha! moment of that internal monologue, “What if that had been a man?”
Based on previous experiences with male bullies, I predict that he would have discredited me or the methodology, e.g. “You don’t have a clue about what you’re talking about,” “This framework is useless.” And I also predict that the female audience would have been supportive, e.g. “Nobody forces you to be here,” “It’s helpful to me.”
But this female bully didn’t attack the method or my credibility. She wanted to shame me. That is, highlight in front of everybody what she saw as a shortcoming in the delivery of an otherwise apparently valuable information.
Another important aspect is that unlike in the case of a male bully, there was no support from the other women. Moreover, the person who had invited the female bully felt the need to apologise to me about inviting her…
Reading the fantastic article, I Am Bone Tired Of People Telling Women How to Show Up by Linda Caroll, helped me recognise that this was no fluke: Women know “shame” is an excellent tool against other women.
- It doesn’t involve physical abuse
- It’s unrequested
- It inflicts long-term harm hidden under apparently well-meaning feedback
- It reinforces the “moral superiority” of the perpetrator
- It silences the victims’ allies due to the veiled threat that they, too, can become a target
More importantly, the aspect that I find most fascinating about shame is its sadistic nature; the primary benefit for the perpetrator is to know the victim will suffer.
Discover seven communication habits blocking your career in tech and how to neutralise them.
How women use shame
Fortunately for the patriarchy, women are excellent at fostering doubt about other women’s capabilities, and behaviours to harm them.
For example, the manuscript casebooks kept by the medical practitioner, and astrologer Richard Napier (1559−1634), who listened to reports of suspected bewitchment in at least 1,714 consultations in Jacobean England, mentioned that the majority of both accusers and suspects were women: Of the 802 accusers in Napier’s records, 500 were female and 232 were male. Among the 960 suspects identified by this group of accusers, 855 were female and 105 were male.
Whilst shame may not aim to kill its target, it can still be very powerful. The premise involves combining a stated norm with how the victim breaks it.
Examples are sentences like;
- “You look more rounded. You had such a great body.”
- “You’re too thin. You looked better when you had some more weight on.”
- “You look tired. Botox is great.”
- “If you love your children, you should breastfeed.”
- “If you care for your children, you shouldn’t breastfeed them after they are 6 months.”
- “Smart women like you shouldn’t be stay-at-home mums.”
- “(To a female executive) Women shouldn’t prioritise their careers.”
- “It’s great you share your achievements, but it makes you sound too ambitious.”
Shaming as a weapon is most effective when;
- It aims to increase the credibility of the perpetrator whilst diminishing that of the victim.
- The victim cannot articulate a response off the cuff.
- It’s delivered in public.
But it doesn’t need to be this way.
The remedy
How can we women avoid using shame against other women and in doing so becoming a tool of patriarchy?
As a Victim
Depending on the context, you can,
- Ignore it — Continue the conversation as if the comment hadn’t been voiced.
- Name the effect on you — You can reply with “What you said hurt me,” “You’re shaming me,” or “Your comment was disrespectful/humiliating/intimidating/intrusive.”
- Uncover the perpetrator’s purpose — Ask questions to expose the perpetrator, e.g. “Did you want to shame me with that comment?“, “What’s that supposed to be positive feedback?“, or “What did you choose to share that in public?”
As a Bystander
We’re not absolved from taking action when we’re in the presence of shaming. Again, depending on the stakes, you may,
- Support the victim — You can ignore the comment and pivot the conversation to another topic, giving the victim the time to recover. You can also offer a positive counterview, e.g. “I love how you presented”, “I admire women who look confident in their abilities.”
- Challenge the perpetrator — You can offer a different perspective, e.g. “There aren’t norms for how much women should weigh” or “What’s the evidence that breastfeeding children for longer than 6 months is harmful?”
- And of course, you may shame them back, e.g. “Women should support other women, not attack them”, “Your feedback is not useful”, or “You’re behaving like a bully.”
As a perpetrator
By now, you may think that you’re on the “right side” of the story. Unfortunately, most probably aren’t, like me. How can we ensure we are not shaming other women gratuitously when delivering our opinion?
We must interrogate our purpose and the outcome of our opinion before, during, and after our comments.
Before
- What’s the purpose of my comment to help the other woman?
- Do you have evidence that this woman doesn’t already know what you’re going to tell them?
- If the intent is to assist, is this the best scenario? If not, what would it be (e.g. 1:1 conversation or an email)?
- Can they do anything about it right away?
- Finally, if in doubt it can shame the other person, don’t say it.
During
- How is your comment landing with the recipient? Do they look relaxed or stressed?
- How is your audience reacting? Note that the fact that they don’t disagree or agree with you doesn’t mean you’re not shaming the person.
After
- If in doubt that you’ve shamed somebody, apologise first and then offer reparation, if possible.
The predator wants your silence. It feeds their power, entitlement, and they want it to feed your shame. — Viola Davis
BACK TO YOU: What’s your experience with shame?
