I was very amused that Google Image Search returned this as a result for “lean in.” That’s a lean-to, Google. Photo from, obviously, practicalsurvivor.com
I wasn’t going to read Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg’s book, Lean In, because the first I heard of it was a critical review. I kept hearing about it, though; the phrase was everywhere, a friend said the book motivated her in her job search, and it was referenced by one of the (male)(I think they were all male) speakers at my sister’s Cornell graduation. So I finally requested it from the library and received it a week ago, almost three months after placing my hold.
I got a lot out of this book, but that’s because I more or less live in the same world as Sandberg. She writes from her experience as a privileged professional, to an audience of women who are either the same or aspiring to be. That’s valid, but many people are understandably irritated because her book is touted as the book for women, when really it’s a book that is primarily for white-collar professional women (or women who move in those circles) who have many of the same resources and opportunities Sandberg has had — and it says a lot about assumptions and class difference in our society that the people praising the book often don’t remember that this applies to only a fraction of the population. For women (and men) who don’t operate in that world, Sandberg’s message is irrelevant at best and insulting at worst. It’s hard to take advice to “lean in” seriously when the advice-giver appears to have no other obstacles besides that of gender, when for many other women, gender is only one of many roadblocks. I’m thinking of Alpha Manzueta, a woman mentioned in a recent NYT article, whose two jobs don’t provide her with enough income to keep herself and her toddler out of homeless shelters. Maybe having more women leaders would improve her situation, but maybe not; if women like her (or those who have more in common with her life than Sandberg’s) find the book demeaning and disconnected from their reality, they’re right to feel that way. Sandberg declares herself an advocate for women; I hope she’s also using her influence and visibility to improve opportunities for all women, not just those who are like herself.
I grew up in Silicon Valley and am still connected to many people in the tech industry; Erik tells me the tech world is more of a meritocracy than other fields, and perhaps he’s right. Sandberg seems to think so too. But the point is that even a meritocracy can’t work for you unless you can get your foot in the door, and some signs show this is becoming more difficult. There’s a recent map of San Francisco showing the number of minimum-wage jobs required to afford rent on a 2BD apartment in each neighborhood; in no place was that number lower than three — or actually, there was a place where the number was lower, and that was Golden Gate Park; my takeaway is that the only affordable “housing” for low-income San Franciscans is sleeping in the park. And this takes into account the San Francisco minimum wage, which at over $10/hour is more than $2 higher than its statewide counterpart. The housing insanity isn’t confined to “the city,” either; a similar map of Oakland shows median home prices of nearly $80K in one neighborhood, and the accompanying text indicates that prices across Oakland have gone up astronomically (76% or more) in the past year. And this in the city that the well-to-do people of the Bay Area have long considered “ghetto.” I don’t know about the South Bay or the Peninsula, home to many of the biggest tech companies (Apple, Facebook, and Google, for example), but as these more suburban areas are generally considered even more expensive than their urban counterparts, I don’t think we need expect them to be any more welcoming to anyone who isn’t already rich. This is the new tech bubble: a largely insulated space where CEOs can wear hoodies to work, merit is (perhaps) rewarded, and work/life balance is (perhaps) achievable — but thanks to the sheltering effect of money, it’s becoming harder and harder to infiltrate unless you can already claim some form of belonging, whether that be education or financial stability or connections; and, more insidious still, it’s becoming harder for those on the inside to see, let alone truly understand, the circumstances of those outside.
I was struck in skimming negative reviews of Lean In on Goodreads just how vitriolic and unhelpful many of them were. There was maybe one useful negative review out of every ten; many of the rest were rants that personally attacked Sandberg for problems she didn’t create (although she has, more than most of us, some power to try to fix them). Of course spite always says more about the person demonstrating it than the object of the hatred, and so perhaps too does gushing praise, and Sandberg has received plenty of both. But I don’t think she should be taken to task for her Harvard education or her children’s nanny; she speaks from her own experience, as should we all. Of course I say that as a bearer of much privilege myself, but there are other ways in which I am not privileged, and I speak from those as well. There is a problem with society and culture in general, where a few are somehow accepted as the speakers for all, to the point that many don’t even realize how much is being censored, suppressed, or simply ignored. But the answer to the disproportionate attention and acclaim given to a representative of the 1% is not to shut her up, but to also make space at the table (to riff on a metaphor used often in the book) for representatives of the other 99%. Even, perhaps, to make proportionate space, meaning that Sandberg’s voice could potentially be drowned out by the crowds of less fortunate women sharing their own stories of success (or lack thereof). This is where Sandberg has a responsibility, too — which I hope she realizes — to use her platform to recognize and raise up those who have none.
Great post, Lisa. I haven’t wanted to read her book even though I heard discussions about it during her book tour. I could tell there was little if anything I would get out of it.
I thought about the dynamics of having opportunity and money while watching the end of Breaking Bad last night. The whole series made me think about society, as a whole, as it zig zagged around the subjects you’ve brought up here. I wondered why a lot of successful people never seem to think of looking back, or reaching back, even when they themselves have come from humble beginnings. I wonder if it’s easier for them to delegate funds to other people to “do something” (if they even do that), than it is for them to remember another way of life or decide to educate themselves about it.
I even wonder if a lot of the vitriol we find in so many online comments is related to feelings of not being invited to the ‘party’ we see going on in the media. These days it seems that even folks in the so-called middle class feel overworked and left out. So much to think about here.
Thank you so much for commenting, dear Ré. I suspect a lot of successful people don’t look back because they are ashamed of their humble beginnings, were maybe even ashamed when they lived them, and now want to distance themselves. At least I know that’s what happens often with more established immigrants when they see “FOBs” — there’s a lot of “tsk tsk, look at those new arrivals, they don’t know how to dress or speak or anything. We don’t want people to think we are like them.” It’s a natural self-protective response (and I’ve heard this happens in African American communities too) but it does everyone a disservice when we can’t overcome it.
That “not invited to the party” feeling is one that disturbs me very much, because I feel that politicians really encourage that feeling even when it’s completely unwarranted. I know people who are extremely privileged who still feel that “other people” are getting a better deal than they are, and it makes me nuts. I think as long as people think of it as a battle between ourselves and “others” (real or imagined) who are getting more, there’s always going to be conflict and greed.
There’s a post that I have been trying (off and on) to write for months, since the Zimmerman verdict, and haven’t yet finished to my satisfaction. I think the trouble is that I approach it like it’s one post but it might actually be a half-dozen or more. Anyway, one of the threads there is my uncomfortable knowledge of just how isolated people’s lives are from one another — I don’t mean that in a sense of personal contact, but that people truly do not know “how the other half lives” and what’s more, they don’t know there is an other half, or if they do, they marginalize these groups as “other.”
Reminds me of the time I watched an older lady buying tenderloin steaks for her dog while I was trying to price hamburger for the family. It was such a dose of unreality. It is impossible for me to fathom the reality that these people live in, when I read about someone who spent tens of thousands of dollars on a birthday party for their 1-year old, and I realize that WHOLE families in my community could be supported for a year on the same amount. I like to think women in roles of power might change the world, but not if those women come from the ranks of unreality.
Agh, yes. I hear about things like the multi-thousand-dollar birthday parties and I judge those people, but then, I know that to a lot of people — really a lot of people — elements of my lifestyle could be seen the same way. I hope that this awareness helps me do good in the world — if not now, then eventually. Part of the reason I am so adamant that Sheryl Sandberg should be doing more for all women is that I can see myself in her position, being similarly sheltered from most people’s reality, thinking I am helping “women” when I’m only helping some. (And I am making assumptions here. I don’t know anything about Sandberg besides what’s in the book; she may be doing a lot of good for less privileged women; I don’t know.)
an interesting counterpoint is: why should sheryl sandberg’s book have to speak to EVERYONE in EVERY situation? books are written all the time with a very specific demographic in mind and you don’t see everyone up in arms that the book on carpentry doesn’t address the issues of sculptors. i think the reason it’s easier to attack sandberg for her limited scope is because the book is written for the “privileged” and it’s easy to lash out at the privileged as not needing a “how to”/”self help” manual like Lean In. but there ARE still issues of injustice and inequality even for privileged professional women and dismissing those concerns as “less important” because they’re not addressing “bigger” issues isn’t completely fair.
I agree very much that no book should have to speak to everyone in every situation, but I think people lash out at Sandberg because her book has been widely publicized as somehow speaking to all women. In some ways that’s on her, because she does call herself a feminist and an advocate for women, but one of the problems in feminist circles in general is that privileged feminists forget that their problems are not always the same problems facing less privileged women. In fact, a problem with people in general is that we tend to assume other people share our same privilege. People who aren’t, say, deaf or color-blind, for instance, tend to forget about people who are, and then they do stuff like make important messages available in audio only, or dependent on seeing certain colors. I wouldn’t say that certain groups’ needs are more or less important, but it is really important to recognize that more momentum and more power goes to solving the needs of certain groups while other groups don’t get as much of a seat at the table.
Feminism seems to be one of those subjects that’s especially touchy, perhaps because so many narrow-feminist arguments like Sandberg’s (meaning speaking only to a narrow portion of the population) act like they’re speaking for “half the population.” I mean, if I wrote a book about how to cook with fresh truffles, there wouldn’t be whole hordes of people getting up in arms about it, because it would be so manifestly obvious that this is a niche publication for a small audience. There might be a few critics yelling about my culinary elitism, but no one would listen to them… unless all of a sudden my book got picked up by every major news outlet and talked up at parties and conferences as “the book for everyone who cooks.” Then I can easily imagine people would start scoffing at me and my foodie pretensions and tearing apart my family background and quoting numbers on how x percentage of the world’s population can’t even eat three meals a day, let alone cook with truffles. That’s my interpretation of what’s happened with Lean In, and though as I said, I don’t think Sandberg should be criticized for speaking from her experience, she does need to understand why people are mad when she has a huge platform and uses it only to speak to that narrow slice of the population that so many people already cater to.
(Very) long story short: to me the point isn’t that Sandberg’s book really does do a great job of dispensing advice to privileged women (because it does! I liked it!), but that this group tends not to recognize its privilege and I think we should, because breaking down privilege benefits everyone. And if we forget our privilege in any given moment, that’s our right (well, actually, our privilege) too, but other people have the right to call us out on it.