4
showed the women outperformed the men. A survey of several thousand potential political candidates
revealed that despite having comparable credentials, the men were about 60 percent more likely to
5
think that they were “very qualified” to run for political office. A study of close to one thousand
Harvard law students found that in almost every category of skills relevant to practicing law, women
6
gave themselves lower scores than men. Even worse, when women evaluate themselves in front of
other people or in stereotypically male domains, their underestimations can become even more
7
pronounced.

Ask a man to explain his success and he will typically credit his own innate qualities and skills. Ask
a woman the same question and she will attribute her success to external factors, insisting she did well
because she “worked really hard,” or “got lucky,” or “had help from others.” Men and women also
differ when it comes to explaining failure. When a man fails, he points to factors like “didn’t study
enough” or “not interested in the subject matter.” When a woman fails, she is more likely to believe it
8
is due to an inherent lack of ability. And in situations where a man and a woman each receive
9
negative feedback, the woman’s self-confidence and self-esteem drop to a much greater degree. The
internalization of failure and the insecurity it breeds hurt future performance, so this pattern has
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serious long-term consequences.

And it’s not just women who are tough on themselves. Colleagues and the media are also quick to
credit external factors for a woman’s achievements. When Facebook filed to go public, The New York
Times ran an article that kindly reminded me—and everyone else—that I had “been lucky” and “had
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powerful mentors along the way.” Journalists and bloggers rose up to highlight the double standard,

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pointing out that The New York Times rarely ascribed men’s success to having been lucky. But the
Times didn’t say anything that I had not already told myself a thousand times. At every stage of my ┆┆思┆┆兔┆┆文┆┆檔┆┆共┆┆享┆┆與┆┆在┆┆線┆┆閱┆┆讀┆┆
career, I have attributed my success to luck, hard work, and help from others.

My insecurity began, as most insecurities do, in high school. I attended a big public school in
Miami—think Fast Times at Ridgemont High—that was far more concerned with preventing fights in
the halls and keeping drugs out of the bathrooms than with academics. When I was accepted into
Harvard, many of my high school classmates asked me why I would want to go to a school filled with
geeks. Then they would stop short, remember who they were talking to, and sheepishly walk away
without waiting for an answer, realizing they already had it.

Freshman year of college was a huge shock for me. First semester, I took a course called The
Concept of the Hero in Hellenic Civilization, which was nicknamed Heroes for Zeroes. I didn’t have a
burning desire to study Greek mythology, but it was the easiest way to fulfill the literature
requirement. The professor began the first lecture by asking which students had read these books
before. I whispered to my friend next to