A Story of sexism and resilience from a silicon Valley CEO
By Rachel Major
Edited in part by Alexa Josaphouich, Julia Casciato, & Alyssa Walker
To finish this story, I want to share how a male friend helped me out of a similar mental illness cycle years prior. There is a lot of pain and anger in this piece about men not holding themselves accountable for the privilege they hold and the damage they inflict accidentally or otherwise. However, this epilogue is an important part of sharing this story for two reasons.
First, sexism hurts men too - sure, they might get the “long end of the stick” in this situation, but they get put in a box for their gender as well. And this box often, to their own detriment, only allows them to experience or showcase a narrow part of themselves. A sliver of possible happiness unless it’s tied to socially acceptable masculine traits. In short, I have as much right to be a CEO and engineer as a man does to be a stay at home dad or ballerina without ridicule or hardship.
Second, it is my steadfast belief, and a tenant of our company, that our best way forward will always be working together and supporting each other.
So onto the story. Several years ago, when NuLeaf was a fledgling startup, before we’d even gone to Ireland with RebelBio, I was struggling with another deep bout of depression. I had given a presentation at a local college for a Women in STEM club about my work for NuLeaf. Afterward, one of the women had told me I was a role model. It took everything in me at that moment to not vehemently say, “Please do not do that.”
Afterward, the fear of failure plagued me for months and made me feel guilty for standing up for these women if I couldn’t guarantee success. So I told a friend. I don’t always remember exactly what he said, but I carry his sentiment with me more often than I care to admit. I hope they help others in moments of doubt.
So pretend for a moment it’s late at night. You’re sitting in your car with one of your oldest friends, trying to cry about the apathetic abyss that’s been consuming your life. People act like never-ending sadness is the scariest feeling of depression, but it’s the emptiness. Joy is sucked away, and you feel hardly anything as if a heavy, cold, and damp cloth is smothering your life. There are only brief periods of fear and guilt for being a stupid, useless waste of space for your friends and family.
You tell him how scared you are, how worthless you feel, how you don’t want to be a role model because you’ll just end up disappointing everyone. Because even if you once believed that hard work would lead to success, the chips seemed to be stacked so damn high against you it’s a miracle you’ll make it out with your sanity let alone any money or dignity. For a moment the silence stretches agonizingly between the two of you.
You’re afraid you’ve said too much, been too much of a burden. You know he’s been bullied in the past for being a sensitive kid, not exactly the machismo type, and has his own demons to deal with. Maybe you’ve pushed too far, ask someone for help that can’t give it or has no room for sympathy in a world that’s constantly told him to “man up” about these experiences. In the middle of your regret, he suddenly breaks the silence. Reaching across the space between you to grab your hand with his brown eyes blazing in the dark and almost shouting. A surprising urgency that stuns you for the first time in months, wide awake.
“Listen to me! Hold this to you close whenever you feel this way. It’s not true. None of it! Absolutely none of it. You’re amazing. You’re strong, and smart, and funny. You’re kind. You’re sassy as shit and I love that about you. You’re one of the most passionate people I know and I know that no matter what happens you will find a way. Don’t you dare give up. It’s hard but the world needs people like you. Your friends and family need you. I love you. You’re gonna be ok. We’ll make it ok together!”
So to anyone reading this - you were not supposed to be the secretary. Carve your way into this world even if it leaves you bleeding. Too many women (and people) are hurting and not enough are talking. Sometimes simply speaking up, simply starting on a path other people say is wrong for you, vowing that you will go back to that stupid plumbing store, is the strongest thing you can do. They will knock you down but you will get up again. You will rise. We will pave the way together.
Thank you for reading.