only woman at the table

everything you want is on the other side of asking for it

No, you are not hallucinating. This blog is actually real, and yes, I am actually being consistent with it this time (yee-haw). I was just going to close this tab twenty seconds into trying to write and go back to watching Community when I read this tweet by Ishvani, punched myself in the gut, and screamed - aight, I'm back!

My toxic trait is that I love doing things and am often good at them too, but I cannot, for the love of god, keep doing them. I'm terrible at continuing to do what I pick up, and I would be lying if I told you I haven't missed out on the compounding rewards that come packed with consistency. So this is me — committing to the bit (it hurts every scale of my bug body)

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I got a question about being a woman in tech on my NGL last week that I couldn’t really come up with an answer to — so I thought more about it until I thought enough for it to be this thot.

Question

What is it like being a woman at a table full of men

Answer

Sexy, intimidating, opportunistic, pretty. But that’s enough about me. Being a woman here feels...well, it feels okay, I guess? Maybe I've been doing this long enough to not feel anything about it anymore. But it’s not like I was born here. And it’s not like I didn’t have to spot an isolated chair at a distance and drag it clumsily, a loud screech through the grumble, in the middle of a toast —- realizing 5 minutes in, not only did I not know the etiquette of the sausage soiree, I also didn’t get the memo to turn up as Barbie of the Oppenheimer theme.

What do you mean you are choosing to give little emphasis to your appearance and do not care about ‘Power Dressing’ as a bosswoman. You had one job at this workplace, Ebba!

Maybe I don't think about what it feels like to be a girl in tech because I'm that cranky friend who's always eyeing the food on other people's tables — because somehow everything the men were being served always seemed better. It looked better. It smelled better. It seemed gourmet.

And not only did the food they have, seem preferable (it was), but it felt like the men always knew what to order and how (they've been training since birth).

“Hey, I’d like to order a mountain of pancakes — each larger than the plate itself. Keep them fluffy but not too much and stack them alternatively with soupy bacon, blue cheese, and a dollop of coffee syrup on the top. Oh and don’t forget the pickapeppa sauce, but pour it in a zig-zig pattern, please. I want this meal to feel like a work of abstract art in my stomach so I can puke out some trailblazing prototypes tonight, before tomorrow’s standup call”

And while I would fake a green laugh and clink my glass with the other women, my nails would always try to scramble to find the page of the menu they were ordering from. Turns out I’d have to write this one on my own.

I wanted what they were having. And I wanted it so bad, I was ready to give up whatever I already had.

I have spent 4 months of last year yapping about wanting to learn to code — not because it is one of the most empowering skills of this age, with the power to transform ideas into a tangible reality — but because, that’s what the men do.

There exists in my brain a long-cemented compartment of "man jobs" and "woman jobs," along with a drive so strong to shatter it that it has both catapulted the feminist in me to break into "man jobs" (even when I might not instinctively be great at it) and the male gaze in me to look down upon my current "woman job" (even when I'm pretty fucking great at it). It feels like living with a blue-pink battle in my being, where both sides are me, and both are losing.

The thing is, we can have as much discourse as we wish, but it is worthless until it comes with the admission of the fact that we (yes, all of us) still have an internalized gendered lens of looking at labor, and it will take us some time to completely shatter that. Like, I'm sorry I have failed at gender reform and that, after years of you making me feel like I'm less, my mind has not processed it, when you suddenly started telling me I'm not.

All, because I want to once have a taste of that gourmet meal. Because I am full of greed. Because I am conditioned to believe everything a man does is more important and respectable. And because, I want to once live life, not having to constantly doubt myself and question whether I exist at this table because I am actually worthy or, because I am the estrogen air freshener — a diversity hire, a convenient token of representation for the sake of representation.

Am I a Diversity Hire?

I am not — as I have been told copiously by my friends, co-workers, and employers alike. But what kind of woman actually believes the words of assurance from her loved ones to renounce her internal tirade of self-reproach? Yikes.

This internal battle leads me to a lot of self-interrogation. How am I always in a group of men? Am I what TikTok calls a "pick me girl"? Am I a shitty feminist? Why do I always want to be a man? That’s what you become when you start asking for more, right? So is that what I am now, a man?

But the fact that I'm constantly questioning myself surely means that I must still be a woman.

It's been frustrating, and it tears me up inside to think that even I, a privileged educated woke woman, have been settling for less, nibbling on peanuts, when all I had to do was — ask for what the men were having.

Everything you want is on the other side of —asking for it

(without dying for it)

1. I wanted to take a writing course by Sasha Chapin but I couldn’t afford it. So I asked him for a discount and — got it for free (almost)

   

2. Sometime towards the end of last year, my company floated a customary feedback form that asked me ‘Hey, what is it that could make your work and life better right now’, and my first very instinctive response was ‘Well how about some more MONEY’. Three days later, your girl was sitting on a mid-year appraisal.

It’s gut-twisting, but once you become comfortable with it, it’s truly magical, you know — asking for things.

I wanted a course I couldn’t afford, I asked for it. I wanted to make the money I actually deserve, I asked for it. I wanted the really cute top I found in my sister’s wardrobe, I asked for it. (She didn’t give it to me so I had to steal it and bring it with me to Bangalore to repeatedly deny all her claims for me having stolen it. But hey, at least I ASKED FOR IT!)

Some Good Reads

1. This thread on how to be a hot girl in tech (Last time, I had this misinterpreted. But in case you're not acquainted, this is a JOKE. You do not have to live your life catering to the male gaze — unless you want to. In which case, terrible way to live life. But who am I to say?)

2. The book Meditations for women who do too much. I open a random page from here, on days I feel more woman, less human (so, a lot)

3. A relevant tweet by me and another spicy one, also by me.

4. This really cool e-book of obscure life experiences and radically mid takes called my twitter ✨ (Please it’s taking me a lot to be comfortable with promoting myself, but I think I’m pretty fun and you should all follow me everywhere. OMG look, I asked for it!)

That’s it for this week’s thot. If you liked it, please do share it with your friends and on your socials (it’s truly the only thing that gets me going). If you have thots and feedback on my thot, or generally any ideas on how we can make these thots more fun, do write to me.

Lastly, you can support my work by buying me a kishmish if you’re in India, or, buying me a coffee if you’re abroad.