men, I found myself fighting back tears. I made it through the
speech and concluded with this:

You are the promise for a more equal world. So my hope for everyone here is that after you walk
across this stage, after you get your diploma, after you go out tonight and celebrate hard—you
then will lean way in to your career. You will find something you love doing and you will do it
with gusto. Find the right career for you and go all the way to the top.

As you walk off this stage today, you start your adult life. Start out by aiming high. Try—and
try hard.

Like everyone here, I have great hopes for the members of this graduating class. I hope you
find true meaning, contentment, and passion in your life. I hope you navigate the difficult times
and come out with greater strength and resolve. I hope you find whatever balance you seek with
your eyes wide open. And I hope that you—yes, you—have the ambition to lean in to your
career and run the world. Because the world needs you to change it. Women all around the world
are counting on you.

So please ask yourself: What would I do if I weren’t afraid? And then go do it.

As the graduates were called to the stage to collect their diplomas, I shook every hand. Many
stopped to give me a hug. One young woman even told me I was “the baddest bitch” (which, having
checked with someone later, actually did turn out to be a compliment).

I know my speech was meant to motivate them, but they actually motivated me. In the months that
followed, I started thinking that I should speak up more often and more publicly about these issues. I
should urge more women to believe in themselves and aspire to lead. I should urge more men to
become part of the solution by supporting women in the workforce and at home. And I should not just
speak in front of friendly crowds at Barnard. I should seek out larger, possibly less sympathetic
audiences. I should take my own advice and be ambitious.

Writing this book is not just me encouraging others to lean in. This is me leaning in. Writing this
book is what I would do if I weren’t afraid.

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2

Sit at the Table

A FEW YEARS AGO, I hosted a meeting for Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner at Facebook. We invited ╩╩網╩
fifteen executives from across Silicon Valley for breakfast and a discussion about the economy.
Secretary Geithner arrived with four members of his staff, two senior and two more junior, and we all
gathered in our one nice conference room. After the usual milling around, I encouraged the attendees
to help themselves to the buffet and take a seat. Our invited guests, mostly men, grabbed plates and
food and sat down at the large conference table. Secretary Geithner’s team, all women, took their food
last and sat in chairs off to the side of the room. I motioned for the women to come sit at the table,
waving them over so they would feel welcomed. They demurred and remained in their seats.

The four women had every right to be at this meeting, but because of their seating choice, they
seemed like spectators rather than participants. I knew I had to say something. So after the meeting, I
pulled them aside to talk. I pointed out that they should have sat at the table even without an
invitation, but when publicly welcomed, they most certainly should have joined. At first, they seemed
surprised, then they agreed.

It was a watershed moment for me. A moment when I witnessed how an internal barrier can alter
women’s behavior. A m