The Women Who Pull Up a Chair

Several years ago, I was talking with a woman about leadership. She was smart, accomplished, respected, and successful by every measure that most organizations use to define success. She had worked hard for her career, earned increasing levels of responsibility, and built a reputation as someone who could be counted on to deliver results. During our conversation, she said something that has stayed with me ever since. She told me that before important meetings, she would prepare herself mentally to be nasty.

I asked her what she meant by that. She explained that she believed she had to become someone different in order to be taken seriously. She felt that if she showed up as her natural self, she would be overlooked, interrupted, or dismissed. She believed she had to be harder, sharper, and more aggressive than she really wanted to be. She worked in a male-dominated environment where the loudest voices often controlled the conversation, where interruptions were common, and where collaboration was frequently mistaken for weakness. Over time, she had convinced herself that this was simply the price of leadership.

The saddest part was not that she had learned to behave that way. The saddest part was that she had become very good at it. Her approach helped her advance. It helped her earn credibility. It helped her survive in an environment that often rewarded aggression over collaboration. However, it also changed how she interacted with the people around her. Many of the people who experienced the sharpest edge of that behavior were other women.

As I reflected on that conversation, I realized that she was far from alone. Throughout my nearly four decades in aviation and aerospace, I have worked with extraordinary women. Some of the strongest advocates, mentors, and supporters in my career have been women. They opened doors for me, shared hard-earned wisdom, made introductions, and helped me navigate situations that would have been much more difficult on my own. They showed me what leadership looks like when confidence is paired with generosity.

At the same, time, some of my greatest disappointments have involved women as well. There were women who seemed determined to prove they belonged by making sure other women knew they did not. There were women who were noticeably harder on female colleagues than they were on men. There were women who viewed every new woman entering the room as competition rather than a potential ally. The message was rarely spoke out loud, but it was easy to hear. The message was, “No one helped me get here, so why should I help you?”

For years, I struggled to understand that mindset. Why would someone who had experienced the challenges of being a woman in a male-dominated industry make things harder for another woman? Why would someone who knew what it felt it like to be overlooked, underestimated, interrupted, or excluded choose not to help someone facing those same challenges? The more I thought about it, the more I realized that much of this behavior is rooted in scarcity.

When I entered engineering, there were very few women. Most of the time, I was the only woman in the room. Occasionally there were two of us. Rarely were there enough women present that our presence felt normal. The message was never explicitly stated, but it was always there. There appeared to be only a handful of opportunities available for women. There seemed to be only a few leadership positions occupied by women. There appeared to be limited room at the table.

When people operate in environments like that for years or even decades, they can begin to internalize those limitations. They stop seeing opportunities as something that can be expanded and begin seeing them as something that must be protected. I remember feeling as though opportunities were divided into slices of a pie. If another woman received a larger slice, it felt as though there would be less available for me. Looking back, I can see how flawed that thinking was. However, when representation is low and opportunities appear limited, it is easy to understand why people begin viewing each other as competitors.

The problem is that scarcity changes behavior. Scarcity encourages people to protect rather than support. It encourages competition instead of collaboration. It encourages gatekeeping instead of sponsorship. Over time, these behaviors can become normalized. Women who have spent years fighting to establish credibility sometimes become so focused on protecting what they have earned that they unintentionally make the climb harder for the women following behind them.

I understand where that comes from. Many of the women who came before me endured things that younger generations can barely imagine. They built careers in environments where there were no female role models, very few mentors, and little support. Many of them were the first woman to hold a particular role, join a particular team, or sit at a particular leadership table. They learned lessons that helped them survive. Some learned that showing vulnerability was dangerous. Some learned that they had to be tougher than everyone around them. Some learned that asking for help was a sign of weakness. Some learned that helping another woman might somehow threaten their own position.

I have compassion for that reality. However, understanding the behavior does not mean we should continue it. Every woman who reaches a position of influence faces a choice. She can become the leaders she needed when she was younger, or she can become another barrier. That choice is made every day in small moments. It is made when a younger woman asks for advice. It is made when a promotion opportunity arises. It is made when someone’s name is mentioned in a talent review discussion. It is made when we decide whether to create an opportunity or protect one.

One of the greatest gifts of experience is perspective. At this stage of my career, I no longer feel like I am competing with other women. In fact, I find myself wanting the exact opposite. I want more women in the room. I want more women leading programs. I want more women running departments. I want more women serving on boards. I want more women influencing strategy. I want more women making decisions. Most importantly, I want more women helping other women get there.

I do not believe women deserve opportunities they have not earned, and I do not believe standards should be lowered. I do believe there is extraordinary talent that too often goes unnoticed, unsupported, or underutilized. Over the years, I have seen what happens when one person chooses to advocate for someone else. A recommendation can open a door. An introduction can create an opportunity. A conversation can build confidence. A sponsor can change the trajectory of an entire career.

That is why I believe one of the most important responsibilities of leadership is sponsorship. We talk a great deal about mentorship, and mentorship absolutely matters. Mentors share advice. They provide guidance. They help us avoid mistakes and navigate challenges. Sponsors do something different. Sponsors use their influence on your behalf. They mention your name when opportunities arise. They advocate for your promotion. The recommend you for stretch assignments. They invite you into conversations where decisions are being made. They help create visibility that you may not be able to create on your own.

Every woman who has benefited from a sponsor understands how powerful that can be. Every woman who has never had one understands exactly what was missing. Image what would happen if every woman who reached a leadership position committed to helping just one other woman advance. She would not do it because she owed her anything. She would not do it because she wanted a follower. She would not do it because she needed a project. She would do it because she understood that leadership is not measured solely by how high you climb. Leadership is measured by how much lift you create for others.

I often think back to the woman who told me she had to become nasty in meetings. What strikes me now is not the word itself. What strikes me is what the word represented. It represented a belief that leadership required her to abandon parts of herself. It represented a belief that there was only one acceptable way to lead. It represented a belief that strength and kindness could not exist together.

I wish more women understood that none of those things are true. Strength does not require cruelty. Authority does not require intimidation. Confidence does not require arrogance. Influence does not require tearing someone else down. Some of the strongest leaders I have ever known were also the most generous. They challenged people without humiliating them. They held high standards without creating fear. They developed talent instead of hoarding opportunities. They understood that leadership is not about proving your worth every day. Leadership is about helping others discover theirs.

When I think about the legacy I hope women leave in aviation, aerospace, and every other male-dominated industry, it has very little to do with titles. Titles eventually disappear. Organizations change. Careers end. What remains is the impact we had on other people. Did we make it easier for others to succeed? Did we create opportunities? Did we share knowledge? Did we help someone find their voice? Did we leave the path a little better than we found it? Those are the questions that matter.

The women who leave the greatest legacy are rarely the ones who protected their seat. They are the women who pulled up another chair.

If you are in a position of influence today, I would encourage you to ask yourself one simple question: Who is coming behind me, and what am I doing to make her path easier?

The future of women in leadership will not be determined solely by how many opportunities organizations create. It will also be determined by what women do when they finally get one. Will we protect our seat, or will we pull up another chair?

The answer to that questions will shape the experience of the next generation of women far more than we realize. That is a legacy worth building.

Until next week,
Dana

Stay. Lead. Soar.