Get Back in the Kitchen

Glen wrote that under a video of me speaking about female leadership on social media. He wasn't alone.

There were others, keyboard warriors emboldened by the distance a screen provides, comfortable in their casual misogyny. The comments kept rolling in over the weekend.

On Social media I have a choice. I can switch off the comments. I can ignore the notifications. I can even convince myself it doesn't matter.

But here's what keeps me up at night:

Glen probably has a job.

 He works with people. Maybe he manages people. He could be any one of the people on your team. And while he's comfortable typing "get back in the kitchen" where I can see it, what does he say in the spaces where I can't?

The Silence Is Louder Than the Comments

Social media cruelty is visceral and immediate, but it's also containable. I can block, mute, delete. What I can't control is what happens in workplaces across the country where the Glens of the world show up every day.

In the office, they wouldn't type it. They wouldn't say it out loud. But they might eye roll when a female CEO is mentioned. They might exchange that knowing glance with a colleague when a woman speaks in a meeting. They might fall conspicuously silent when asked their opinion on a female leader's strategy.

I would address it differently in the office.  

And I have. Not in public, but I have called it out.

I have questioned the eye roll or the silence or the glance to their colleague. I would do it again. I would do it because if it is happening to me then it would be happening to so many other female leaders. I like to think I would do it with grace and seek to understand - my default is we solve so much when we communicate with that intention.

Those micro-aggressions are harder to call out than a comment thread and you can't mute them. They're designed to be deniable. "What? I was just listening." "I didn't mean anything by it." But we all know what they mean.

The Creeping Doubt

Here's what those comments do, even after I've turned them off: they plant seeds of doubt. Is it safe to share videos supporting female leaders? Are people eye rolling on other platforms where I can't see? Is it happening on LinkedIn?

Finally, I got to the point of thinking it is everywhere.

And then the harder question: if I let this get in the way of the impact I can make, then who is winning?

 We've all the heard the old saying... Sticks and stone....

The Truth About Leadership

For every wonderful leader, male or female, there are leaders, male and female, who will eye roll and judge.

If I let the Glens of the world prevent me from showing up, from speaking out, from supporting other female leaders, then they've won. Not just against me, but against every woman who might need the support.

Sitting With Discomfort

Writing this makes me feel vulnerable. Admitting that comments from strangers get to me, that I question whether to keep speaking up, that sometimes the weight of casual misogyny feels overwhelming - these aren't comfortable admissions.

But maybe that's the point.

Glen thought he was putting me in my place. What he actually did was remind me why this work matters.

The kitchen comment, the eye rolls, the pointed silences - they're all designed to make women smaller, quieter, less visible. And the only way they succeed is if we let them.

What I'm Choosing

I could stay quiet. I could stop posting videos. I could make myself smaller to avoid the comments.

Or I could remember that visibility matters. That every time a woman in leadership shows up authentically, she expands the possibilities for others.

Glen gets to keep his opinion. But he doesn't get to determine my impact.

I'm choosing impact.

What are you choosing?