Years ago, I read a novel — I can’t remember the title now — written by a woman who’d worked at Google. She told a story about being a woman in a corporate company and navigating up to the top, eventually running a division. In her area, every day at six o’clock, the men would head out the door. The women stayed late.
One night, the women were talking about why all these men leave at six, get praised for their work, and we’re still sitting here. Her answer stuck with me. It’s because you do their job. You don’t say no. You take care of them so they don’t have to worry. This book has stuck with me, and I have retold it to many women who somehow are taking on everyone else’s work.
That story came back to me recently after an evening with friends. Two different women, two completely different situations, but the same thread underneath both. One of them was clearly not wanting to do something — you could see it on her face — and I kept asking her, why don’t you just say no? Why don’t you just say no?
It’s harder than it sounds. I think it’s genuinely hard for a lot of women to draw that line. It is easier to bear the consequences that you never wanted to deal with.
The other friend had a client who’d essentially taken advantage of her. They went around her to buy something so they wouldn’t have to pay commission, even though she spent countless hours educating them. Instead of saying, this is bullshit, she went ahead and helped them complete the transaction. She got taken for a ride. And she did the job anyway because I am sure she wanted to look like the good person here, but she should have told them fuck off.
Why do women have a no problem? I wonder a lot about how women are raised differently — how many of us are still, in some quiet way, expected to be the good girl. To say “of course, I’ll take care of that” or “no problem,” while internally we’re frustrated, doing someone else’s work, doing something we never wanted to do in the first place. Did our mothers do that? Did we do that in elementary school?
I’ve never had trouble saying no. These days, honestly, I say no to almost everything unless it falls into maybe three categories I actually care about. Our own kids taught me personal boundaries. Watching them hold a line, plainly and without apology, gave me permission to do the same. They have elevated my ability to say no.
So how do we change this for women — especially young women — before the pattern sets in? How do we teach it early enough that it becomes instinct instead of something learned the hard way after years of overextending? Therapy is a good start, but so is having your own personal boundaries.
No, I won’t do that.
No, that person isn’t being fair to me.
No, I won’t finish that for you.
No, that doesn’t interest me.
No, I don’t want to read that book.
Whatever the version, women need to learn the power of “no.” Not as an act of defiance, just as a plain, ordinary sentence they’re allowed to say out loud, as many of their male counterparts have no problem saying.
