The Great Return
4 minute read
I breathed one enormous sigh of relief on Monday morning as RTÉ radio reported on the reopening of offices around the country. Even though I wasn’t part of this back-to-work brigade, it was as if my mind hadn’t transmitted that information to my insides yet, because they were as jumpy as water on the boil. I’m more than familiar with this feeling because I experienced it at the end of every teenage summer as the new school year approached like a big black bloated rain cloud.
I was so grateful not to be under any kind of metaphorical cloud this week, but instead, to be sitting in my home office, planning my own schedule and working on my own projects. After almost two years of freelancing, and more than a year of pandemic stasis, I’ve thought a lot about how I want my career and professional circumstances to play out going forward, and I’ve reflected just as much on what exactly it was I liked and disliked about working in an office. I certainly liked the routine of it, and I have always enjoyed getting dressed up in the morning as well as having that firm cut-off point on a Friday afternoon.
But it was only when I listened to a Brené Brown podcast on Tuesday that I understood fully why my reaction to this week’s mass return to the workplace was one of anxiety and unease. Brown crystalised some of the dysfunctional dynamics at play in many workplaces, which, as a younger woman, I assumed was par for the course in an office environment. But as a woman in midlife, I’m much less prepared to accept certain behaviours as ‘par for the course’.
Brown spoke of a culture of shame, of favouritism, of finger-pointing and of fitting in rather than belonging that immediately resonated with me. I haven’t experienced all of these scenarios, but I’ve certainly been faced with some, and between them, my friends have admitted dealing with almost all during their 20-odd year careers (we all work in different industries, which suggests how systemic these issues are). Brown illustrates a kind of blame and shame culture, which permeates many organisations. Drilling down on the notion, she explained that it can manifest itself in several ways, including driving a culture where perfectionism and winning is everything, leaving individuals too intimidated to speak up and offer new ideas. In these environments “healthy striving” is not encouraged.
An article in the Harvard Business Review reinforced this view, citing failure to create a “psychologically safe culture” as one of the eight motivators for employees’ resignation. It explains: “Employees who do not feel psychologically safe are more prone to error, and less likely to take risks, participate in healthy conflict, or grow in their roles.” In a creative position, especially, you can’t possibly partake or perform if you feel unable to speak out, take chances, question ideas and challenge thought processes. On Heyday, we often speak about how, as women in midlife, we find ourselves driven to ditch our own armour and insecurities, and embrace our value and potential. By the time we reach our middle years, shaming, blaming, perfectionism and fitting in seem like such jaded and pointless objectives.
But if we can’t bring our authentic selves to work, and instead are forced to emotionally duck and dive from 9-5, the choices are stark: leave or partake.
American psychologist and author Adam Grant made an excellent point when he asked: “Before taking a job offer, it’s worth asking: do I want to become more like the people here? ...don’t overlook how the culture will change you. Few of us are immune to the values of the people around us.” I don’t think it’s a stretch to suggest that this shaming culture (and the fear we may become embedded in it) is another reason why so many women leave the workforce during their middle years. A New York Times article published earlier this year suggests it may be, because “...more often than not, it’s women – and especially women of colour – who don’t feel safe in their workplaces.”
What’s even more concerning is that the virtual environment forced on us by the pandemic has deepened the problem. The article goes on to explain that in a study reported by catalyst.org, female business leaders reported that almost half of women had difficulty speaking up in online meetings, and one in five felt overlooked and ignored in video meetings. Fewer in-person interactions hamper our ability to connect meaningfully with others and make it more difficult to build trust, both of which are the anchors of a psychologically safe environment.
Given this study’s findings, it’s frustrating that women are thought to be better at creating psychologically safe work environments than men. In a 2018 Pew Research Center study 43% of respondents said women were better at creating safe and respectful workplaces, while only 5% thought men were better. Having worked in mostly female-dominated workplaces but a couple of male-dominated also during my career, I’d have to agree with the other 52% who believe that both men and women are equally capable. They’re both equally competent at disseminating shame and fear too, unfortunately.
Right now I’m in a precious professional bubble of only working with individuals I like, respect and trust, and who like, respect and trust me. Recently I decided to stop fearing this bubble would burst and start concentrating on strengthening it so that it can’t. One of the challenges, and freedoms, of midlife is refusing to settle for the status quo, in both our personal and professional circumstances. While this new way of working is psychologically safe for me, it’s financially terrifying, but I’m learning to live with that. And I’m discovering it’s remarkably easier to cope with than being in an unsafe workplace.
Marie Kelly, September 2021
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