Tales from an emotional woman on working in the Silicon Valley of Europe
Not the typical female appreciation piece for Women's Day — but there are enough of those. Instead, here's less flowery depiction of what it's like being a woman in Estonian tech.
It’s International Women’s Day — a pretty big deal in Estonia. There are flowers, cake at the office, and the spotlight is on the accomplishments of women.
As part of the tech and startup scene, my LinkedIn feed is riddled with appreciative posts and employer branding plugs showcasing women in the traditionally boys-only areas of the organization — whether it’s engineering or executive management. I have had the opportunity to work alongside some brilliant women who inspire me. I have also worked with incredible men who make me forget that gender is even a thing as far as how I’m seen at the workplace.
I’ll never get tired of hearing and reading about the women who have made their mark in the industry — and the men who genuinely respect and appreciate them.
But what I am tired of not seeing is the less flowery side to being a woman in tech here. While court cases and media coverage highlight a lot of gender issues from discrimination to harassment in the OG Silicon Valley, that level of awareness has yet to reach this corner of the world.
So, enjoy some my experiences and thoughts on being a woman in the Silicon Valley of Europe.
“Something else that sets Silicon Valley apart is the entrenched belief among the powerbrokers that they are not only changing the world but changing the world “for the better.” That confidence creates a sense of moral exceptionalism and arrogance that distances Silicon Valley from real-world people and problems. In fact, the tech industry faces many of the same issues that other industries face with sexism, racism and ageism, but is blind to it, which means there is even less of an urgency to change Silicon Valley itself for the better.”
— The Vile Experiences of Women in Tech, The Economist
“Don’t worry about this slide. All investors want to see is smart men and pretty women.”
It’s a sentence that is branded into my memory, because until it was said I didn’t even realize that I was the only woman in the room.
The context? I was pulled in mid-meeting to edit and add copy to an investor slide deck. The slide in question was the typical array of management team headshots and little logos from previous workplaces to prove that they belonged there. Standard stuff. But the comment was by no means standard to me and I was taken aback. But nobody else batted an eye. It either went unnoticed or was dismissed as a silly, boyish slip from the company’s key visionary.
It was the first overt display of a sexist mentality that I had never noticed up until then. Like many people, I always envisioned sexism at the workplace as Mad Men ass grabbing and full-blown assault — not subtle comments and gestures that are, in my opinion, much more insidious. It’s easy to address an inappropriate grope or an unwanted kiss.
But how do you address being described as “playing hard to get” to all your colleagues — for months after you had joined — after insisting on a coherent job description before accepting a role? A basic requirement that the man trying to hire you struggled to meet?
How do you address the discomfort of being told to avoid an executive at company events because they have a history of being a creep, even when nothing happens to you?
How do you address being told you will work closely with a contractor who sexually harassed your colleague at a party? And how he would have been hired despite that if you didn’t share this information with female executives who put a stop to it?
And how do you address learning that not one but two men in your field received higher offers and pay than you did for doing the same role with considerably less experience?
Even while anonymizing and omitting experiences where I can’t, I find sharing this uncomfortable. I’m carefully excluding any details, as I am speaking about well-known workplaces in a village of an industry where reputation is everything. But at this stage in my career I feel secure enough to disclose all this. I’m tired of it being shrugged off, and the whole it-is-what-it-is attitude.
And I’m confident that this is worth sharing.
“In Estonia, women earn about 22% less than men on average, compared with 11% across European countries. Controlling for skills in terms of education and potential experience (age) increases the gender pay gap from 22% to 27% in Estonia and from 11% to 16% on average across European countries. This reflects the fact that working women tend to be better educated than working men on average. Importantly, it implies that a better understanding of the gender pay gap requires focusing on differences in the characteristics of the firms and jobs in which men and women are employed rather than differences in their skills.”
— The Economic Case for More Gender Equality in Estonia, OECD
“However, I have another question to sync on before we move forward: Would you await more a job offer or me asking you out? Because I’m split.”
This text message was sent a day after a third job interview. On a Saturday.
The role is one that I am more than qualified for, and as I learned from the recruiter who I shared this with to explain why I was dropping out, I was the top choice for. I was shocked. In an angry response I was clear that this was not only stupid from a business perspective, but it was neither flattering nor romantic — it was insulting. And a fucking waste of my time, as the proposal made accepting the offer impossible. I was subsequently offered compensation for my time.
While it is fair, and I sent an invoice, it felt like being paid off.
To top it off, I was angry at myself, because I immediately started to run through everything I had done and said in the interviews I had. Was I too friendly? What was I wearing? When the conversation went more casual as is standard when getting to know someone you’d plan on working with closely, did I share too much? I am an open person by nature and I value transparency and human connection with the people I spend 40+ hours a week with. Should I be different? Am I in the wrong?
I can understand attraction. It’s human and inevitable that we work with people we find appealing, and I am aware of how I look. But this is not about that.
It’s about the fact that years of experience, expertise, and knowledge took a backseat to the way I look, and that it was considered acceptable to make that clear. It took me back to the first comment — all investors want to see is smart men and pretty women, two distinct camps of professionals. And in this situation, I was grouped into the latter.
“Some of us have been harassed or put in uncomfortable situations. Some of us have been underpaid, brought in at lower seniority levels, and not promoted. Most of us, however, experience constant microaggressions. Every woman working in tech I know has at least one story that makes your blood boil.”
— Why Women in Tech Are So Angry All the Time — Mashable
“As a woman in tech, you need to be more careful.”
I received this advice from another woman, one I respect. It’s not bad advice, it’s about all you can do really. And while it’s not her fault, it’s infuriating. So who’s to blame?
An easy answer to this is that the men I described so far, as well as the ones that I chose not to, are assholes. To some extent, I would say they are. But that’s too black and white, and there’s no such thing as a good or bad person outside fairy tales. I am certain that none of them realized the impact of their words or actions — or how they compound and layer to form an environment that feels unwelcoming at best and hostile at worst. It’s a primitive urge to blame someone when we feel wronged, and I’m not above it.
But instead, my conclusion is that it is a societal issue. I’ll direct my anger there.
Local discourse on gender equality in the tech space often revolves around the same themes. Addressing imposter syndrome and internal barriers women set for themselves. How to get more young girls into STEM subjects. How senior women in the industry should act as mentors and make themselves more visible. You take responsibility for encouraging more women to get a taste of the tech flavor of the rat race. And men, on the other hand, should be aware and do their very best to graciously accommodate more women.
Long story short — it’s the 19.1% of women versus 80.9% of men in Estonian tech that need to get their shit together. It’s women who hold themselves back. Let’s learn about imposter syndrome. Let’s be careful so we avoid attracting romantic interest in professional settings. Let’s encourage women to speak up when conflicts arise and be more assertive, so long as it’s not too emotional and isn’t inconsistent with the story from a more rational party.
Be bolder, educate yourselves properly, go mentor, learn how to negotiate, stop taking things so personally, acknowledge the role you play in this.
“Women are tired of not being taken seriously, and attending ridiculous seminars on how women can get ahead. How about we work on the men? It’s been a long time of talking about skill-building for women, but men aren’t making room, and they’re treating women in a sexualized way and not paying them fairly. And you can never catch up.”
— The Tech Industry’s Gender-Discrimination Problem, The New Yorker
Empathy is exhausting and, in this case, ineffective
After 7 years of living in Estonia, it’s safe to say that outrage and protest, regardless of gender or context, is not a thing here.
Maybe if it were, I wouldn’t exclusively hear dozens of stories like those I’ve shared in hushed conversations or private settings, laced with an awkward shame and fear of being problematic. It’s not that big of a deal, they probably didn’t intend it that way, how did I provoke this situation, maybe it was this or that. Being socially inept is a luxury working women don’t have. We empathize, we rationalize, and we move on.
But I’m fed up with trying to put myself in the shoes of people who don’t return the favor. So in the spirit of Women’s Day, here’s an appropriately emotional message to all the men whose comments, advances, and stereotype-fuelled skill evaluations made successful, competent women question their worth.
Fuck you. Do better.
