ions of women. Yet by behaving in the exact same
manner, Howard lived up to our stereotypical expectations of men. The end result? Liked him,
disliked her.

I believe this bias is at the very core of why women are held back. It is also at the very core of why
women hold themselves back. For men, professional success comes with positive reinforcement at
every step of the way. For women, even when they’re recognized for their achievements, they’re often

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regarded unfavorably. Journalist Shankar Vedantam once cataloged the derogatory descriptions of
some of the first female world leaders. “England’s Margaret Thatcher,” he wrote, “was called ‘Attila
the Hen.’ Golda Meir, Israel’s first female Prime Minister, was ‘the only man in the Cabinet.’
President Richard Nixon called Indira Gandhi, India’s first female Prime Minister, ‘the old witch.’
5
And Angela Merkel, the current chancellor of Germany, has been dubbed ‘the iron frau.’ ”

I have seen this dynamic play out over and over. When a woman excels at her job, both male and
female coworkers will remark that she may be accomplishing a lot but is “not as well-liked by her
peers.” She is probably also “too aggressive,” “not a team player,” “a bit political,” “can’t be trusted,”
or “difficult.” At least, those are all things that have been said about me and almost every senior
woman I know. The world seems to be asking why we can’t be less like Heidi and more like Howard.

Most women have never heard of the Heidi/Howard study. Most of us are never told about this
downside of achievement. Still, we sense this punishment for success. We’re aware that when a
woman acts forcefully or competitively, she’s deviating from expected behavior. If a woman pushes to
get the job done, if she’s highly competent, if she focuses on results rather than on pleasing others,
she’s acting like a man. And if she acts like a man, people dislike her. In response to this negative
reaction, we temper our professional goals. Author Ken Auletta summarized this phenomenon in The
6
New Yorker when he observed that for women, “self-doubt becomes a form of self-defense.” In order
to protect ourselves from being disliked, we question our abilities and downplay our achievements,
especially in the presence of others. We put ourselves down before others can.
^^文^檔^共^享^與^在^線^閱^讀^
During the summer between my first and second year in business school, I received a letter in the
mail congratulating me on becoming a Henry Ford Scholar for having the highest first-year academic
record. The check was for $714.28, an odd number that immediately signaled that several students had
split the prize. When we returned to school for our second year, six men let it be known that they had
won this award. I multiplied my check by seven and it revealed a nearly round number. Mystery
solved. There were seven of us—six men and me.

Unlike the other six winners, I didn’t let my award status become general knowledge. I told only
my closest friend, Stephen Paul, and knew he would keep my secret. On the surface, this decision
might have worked against me, since grades at Harvard Business School are based 50 percent on class
participation. Professors teach ninety-minute classes and are not allowed to write anything down, so
they have to rely on their memory of class discussion. When a student makes a comment that others
refer to—“If I can build on what Tom said …”—