If I had a magic wand or the hands of a plastic surgeon, and I have neither, I would grant professional women a thicker layer of skin. This added dermis would prevent us from wasting hours, sometimes days, recovering from negative feedback, off-side looks, slights, and words heard behind our back, that penetrate a woman’s thin skin. Thicker skin would enable more women to step up, to lead, and to get to the top. It is where some of us want to be, should be, and what the world needs.
How do I know thicker skin will help?
In our research on women and power, Jane Perdue and I asked survey respondents, 104 professional women, to choose between their desire to “be powerful,” to be “well-liked,” or to be “with a powerful partner.” Fifty percent chose powerful; while 34% preferred well-liked and 16% opted for a powerful partner. Thicker skin would change these odds. It would reduce the pain of feeling “they don’t like me,” and enable women to opt for roles that call for doing the right thing over the “like me” thing.
I also know because I’ve wasted time fretting over someone who said something that stung. But that was then, and this is now. I’ve learned to shed or avoid those who lie waiting, stingers at the ready. And if I do get stung it doesn’t matter for long because I’m going somewhere important and haven’t the time to waste.
What to do, absent the wand and skin thickening surgery?
Practice.
Be your counsel. How? Listen to your inner voice. It knows.
Those who rent space inside your head will have their say. Thank them for sharing their views. Then see the part of yourself, let’s call her Maggie, who has been convinced or paralyzed by these voices. Notice her age. She is younger than you are now. Ask if she might let You take over. Assure Maggie you are capable and strong. Tell her you will not be hurt, and then watch as she hands you the reins. Take them.
If you are a mother reference the muscles you developed when over and over you decided to do right by your children. Recall the strength it took to over-ride the tiny, horrid, skin-piercing voices screaming for what they wanted. Recall their tears, tantrums, and name calling. Recall that neither you nor your sense of what you needed to do, as a mother, was diminished. Recall that strength.
Now use it to lead not to win a popularity contest.