Screen Queens

by Lori Goldstein

  Nishi nodded to Abigail as she added, “And only twenty percent of Fortune 500 CIO positions are held by women. You are one of that twenty percent. And it all started with that iMac, which I didn’t learn until years later. You were on the team.”

  Mom worked at Apple? Mom worked with Steve Jobs?

  “For a short time. Intense doesn’t describe it. But it was a dedication that I internalized. I knew when I was in the position I am now, I’d be grateful.”

  “When, not if,” Nishi said.

  Abigail smiled. “Always.”

  Nishi went on to her first question, and Lucy simply stared at her mother.

  “She’ll never be me,” Lucy once heard her mother say to her father. Was this why? Why Lucy’s achievements were never enough? How could she compare to the woman who helped launch the product that made Apple Apple? And how had Lucy never known this?

  Lucy shifted in her seat, wanting to be anywhere but here.

  Maddie leaned in and whispered, “Are you okay?”

  Lucy shook her head and blurted out, “Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know her.”

  “Or don’t want to,” Maddie said quietly.

  A lump swelled in Lucy’s throat, and she found herself reaching for Maddie’s hand. Maddie patted Lucy’s quickly before tucking both her hands under her thighs.

  It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

  * * *

  * * *

  “Women in tech,” Nishi started. “It won’t come as news that the gender imbalance is huge. Even in our own incubator, despite our efforts to recruit more female participants. Studies estimate that women make up only a quarter of tech employees and eleven percent or less of executives. And those numbers plummet when we narrow them for women of color. My question for you all is why?”

  The engineer answered first. “Anyone can found a tech company, right? Anyone can change the world with a single great idea. Drop out of college and still become a billionaire. Facebook is the model, right? The genius comes from within, so that means tech companies can hire based not on education or background but on merit—a meritocracy, that’s what Silicon Valley is purported to be. But the truth is that’s a myth. Because studies have shown that we are biased to think that this important tech trait—this innate genius—is a male trait. A white, male trait. As this plays out, it indicates that you don’t necessarily have to be biased against someone, you can be biased for someone, meaning reinforcing what you see around you, which is predominately white and male. That’s who gets hired.”

  The CEO chimed in. “Tech is all about the future, with meditation rooms and juice bars and collaborative spaces, and you think it’s all very liberal, but it’s also very male and young. Which unfortunately can and does lead to some of the worst frat boy stereotypes you can imagine. And when the behavior comes from the guy leading the company . . . well, employees follow their leaders in terms of what’s accepted.”

  Lucy whispered to Maddie, “This isn’t a discussion, it’s venting.”

  Maddie’s brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t you be interested in this?”

  Lucy shrugged. It all seemed so . . . stereotypical.

  Onstage, Nishi probed further. “I know what I’ve seen. But I’d like you to share any experiences you feel comfortable with.”

  The CEO started. “There are the things most people would call small. Things like being the only female in the room at the same level as everyone else, or higher, and being asked to take notes. Or leading a presentation and having potential investors direct all the questions to the male at the table.”

  “Then there are the big things,” the engineer said. “Not being given credit for our ideas, being the most reliable programmer on the team but consistently overlooked for promotions. Things that affect our career and earning ability.”

  Nishi nodded to encourage Abigail, but her face was stoic as she sat back, listening.

  The CEO looked at her fellow panelists. When no one else spoke, she began. “And if you want us to go there, which I absolutely think we should precisely because of the gender imbalance here before us . . . Imagine being told the substance of your pitch is irrelevant because you’re hot. Being asked to show pictures from your beach vacation—and not of the sunsets. Being sent a link to a sexy costumes site at Halloween. Being told that your very hiring, especially as a woman of color, was due to a lowering of the bar. And then, of course, there’s the ‘handsy’ factor—in elevators after a night at a retreat, under the table during dinner, back rubs at a meeting.”

  The engineer snorted. “Just once I’d like to see a male colleague try to deftly brush off a coworker’s wandering hands and then be told he’s not being a team player.”

  The CEO gave a commiserating nod. “Skills in diplomacy are a prerequisite for women in tech. Startups in particular are a tough place, with investors dangling money in exchange for drinks and dinners, holding hot tub parties-as if most women want to pitch their company in a string bikini-and, well . . . the point is once we get in the door, there are impediments to staying and succeeding. Women leave tech at twice the rate of men. We need to be open about why. It’s the only way it’s going to change.”

  “And is it?” Nishi asked.

  “Diversity training and commitments for hiring are happening. But I believe real change will come from us. Programming was seen as unglamorous and rote when Silicon Valley was emerging in the forties and fifties, and so it was relegated to women. Once its profitability was revealed, the guys came and suddenly coding became a male realm. If as a woman you look around at your team and no one looks like you, you may feel like you don’t belong in that job. And that’s a problem not just for the women who want to be in this space, but for the women who use the products we create. Apple’s first health app could track sodium intake but not menstruation. Phones with ever-growing screen sizes may be welcomed by men, but their usability for women who have smaller hands decreases with each centimeter gained. We can no longer fit our phones in our pockets or type or take photos with one hand unless we choose an older model that, interestingly, comes without all the bells and whistles. One of the newest, most advanced artificial hearts fits more than eighty percent of men but only twenty percent of women. Would this happen if more women were on these development teams? We need to find out. We need more women and women of color to start their own companies, like you’ve done, Nishi.”

  The conversation shifted to education, Abigail Katz took the lead, and Lucy tuned out.

  * * *

  * * *

  After the discussion ended, Lucy sprang out of her seat. She had her weekly mentor meeting with Ryan Thompson and she wouldn’t be late. But Delia and Maddie flanked her, expecting to meet her mother. She was stuck.

  Abigail stepped down from the stage with Nishi, while the other panelists spoke with a few students, including Emma. It was the first time Lucy had seen Emma engaged in anything other than her guitar.

  Lucy’s mother had donned a pair of black kitten heels for the event, as if she needed the extra height. Both of Lucy’s parents were tall, as was everyone in this grouping, save for Delia, though even she had a few inches on Lucy.

  Lucy straightened her spine as awkward introductions were made. Awkward because Lucy refused to be the one making them. She listened, waiting for an indication from her mom that this invitation was last minute, a fill-in for someone else perhaps, but it didn’t come.

  Fine, it’s all fine.

  Nishi was the one to explain the premise behind their app, saying how impressed she was with the ideas they’d come up with so far.

  Not impressed enough to rank us higher than tenth though, right?

  While Delia delved into the technical portion and the bug she’d been unable to fix, Abigail listened with interest, and Lucy tapped her Pick Me! Purple nails against her notebook.

  Maddie shot her a look, and Lucy stopped,
instead saying, “I’ve got a meeting.” She made sure to catch her mother’s gaze. “With Ryan Thompson.”

  “Of course,” her mom said. “Important things await us all. But a moment, Lucy, before you go?”

  Lucy just managed to stop her eye roll and stepped to the side with Maddie and Delia.

  Her mother thanked Nishi, who seemed to go in for a hug—twice. Lucy could have warned her that her mother was an expert at deflecting. Nishi’s awe perplexed Lucy. Nishi was way more successful. Apple was a feather for sure, even Lucy could admit that, but it must have been a nanosecond in her mom’s career.

  “CIO?” Delia said with the same excitement she’d displayed with Eric. “And the iMac team? Your mom’s amazing, Lucy.”

  “Uh-huh.” Shocked by the hot prick behind her eyes, she pulled in her lower lip and averted her eyes—but not before Maddie’s face softened.

  “Come on, Delia,” Maddie said. “I’ve been thinking about upping the amount of white space and could use your help.”

  “Ooh, great, Eric and I were just talking about that,” Delia said, reaching for the round, gold-rimmed sunglasses Lucy had helped her pick out at one of the kiosks in the student center (not bad for something on the clearance rack). Maddie pulled her aviators down from her head, and the two started toward the exit, leaving Lucy alone, waiting for her mother.

  After saying goodbye to Nishi, Abigail placed her leather briefcase in her hand and approached her daughter. “Walk with me?”

  Resentment simmered at the surface, but Lucy moved her feet.

  “Sounds as though things are going well,” her mom said.

  No one mentioned tenth, then?

  “I’m glad I decided to accept this invitation to speak, otherwise I would have no idea what you’re up to.”

  “And that’s my fault? You’re the tech guru, but I’m pretty sure cell phones can now make as well as receive calls.”

  “Interesting.”

  “What?”

  “I interpreted our last encounter in my office to mean you wanted space. I gave it.”

  Right, and what’s your excuse for the eighteen years before that?

  “Your team seems competent. Are you getting along?”

  “What is this about, Mom? We don’t do chitchat.”

  Her mother sighed. “Believe what you want, Lucy, but I am encouraged to hear how well things are going. However—”

  “And there it is! Do I win a prize?”

  “However,” Abigail said, unfazed, “before the panel Nishi mentioned she chaperoned a field trip to San Francisco—”

  “Oh, God, Mom, please. And what? Did she say I was dancing? In a club?” Lucy fake gasped. “I was having fun, which I deserve, because Lit is going well, so, so well, because I’m working my ass off to make sure it does. I’ll never understand why you can’t trust me even the tiniest bit. You don’t think I’ll ever be you? Good, because I don’t want to be.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Lucy quickened her pace, as if the pounding in her feet would help her ignore the tremble in her hands. She thought about canceling, but she didn’t have a way to get in touch with Ryan and she wouldn’t be a no-show.

  She followed the path to the student center and breezed through the glass door. Under the arched entryway to the study hall, site of the hackathon and now ValleyStart’s collective workspace, she steeled herself with an image of sharing her Demo Day win with Stanford. So long as she stayed on the wait list, she was fine, everything was fine, fine, fine, fine.

  But nothing was. And now even the table in the corner dedicated for mentor meetings was empty. Had Ryan forgotten?

  The lecture had only just ended, and already teams were tethering themselves back to tables and chairs, walling themselves off with laptop screens, immersing themselves in their work. Maybe ValleyStart was right about the rankings spurring competition.

  Lucy scanned the tables, hoping to see Maddie and Delia. Instead all she saw was everyone training their eyes on her. They probably thought she didn’t belong here—that she was only here because of her mom.

  Light-headed from her brisk walk and realizing she hadn’t eaten anything all day, she stared down as many of her competitors as she could as she headed to the snack center in search of spicy tuna rolls. It was there that she found Ryan.

  He and Gavin were facing each other, both clasping a Red Bull sideways in one hand. Standing beside them were Gavin’s teammates. On the count of three, each teammate plunged a knife into a Red Bull, and Ryan and Gavin flipped the cans upright, shoved their lips to the hole, and popped the tops. Shotgunning. Ryan Thompson was shotgunning Red Bulls with Gavin Cox.

  This was supposed to be her week. But since leaving class this morning it was like she’d entered an alternate universe.

  She spun on her heels only to hear, “Lucy? You’re here! Finally got my excuse to ditch these losers.”

  The slap of a high five and Ryan’s resulting laughter made Lucy feel like the only loser in the room was her.

  She gave Ryan a hesitant smile and started toward the mentor table. She was halfway there when Ryan caught up to her, placing a hand on her elbow. She turned, trying to hide her disappointment at seeing Ryan and Gavin so in sync. But Gavin was tied for first, after all, so why shouldn’t they be?

  “This way,” Ryan said. He led her to a door at the back of the study hall space, opening it and ushering her inside first. “Don’t need those brogrammers hearing your killer ideas.”

  A metal desk with a chair on either side was crowded by floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked with buckets, mops, and industrial-sized jugs of soap. That they were in the janitorial office/closet couldn’t have mattered less to Lucy.

  Because . . . “Did you say ‘killer ideas’?”

  “Totally.” Ryan smirked before holding his finger to his lips. “But don’t tell the others I said so. Can’t appear to be having favorites, can I?”

  Lucy’s mind returned to the night of the club and the way he and Emma were talking. But Delia hadn’t mentioned anything about Eric’s team getting any tips. Maybe Emma had been telling the truth when she’d said they weren’t talking about the program.

  Good.

  Lucy sat up straighter and read from her notebook, where she kept track of everything Lit and life related. She updated Ryan on her team’s progress. The intensity of his eyes and the bobbing of his head as she spoke signaled how impressed he was.

  Halfway through their session, she let herself take in what was happening: not only was she having a meeting with Ryan Thompson, but Ryan Thompson thought her ideas were killer. Ryan. Thompson.

  She held back her grin but couldn’t stop the bubbly feeling inside. This was what ValleyStart was about. This was not just going to be her week but her summer. And she wasn’t going to let anyone or anything take it from her.

  So their app was ranked tenth. Tenth meant nothing. Tenth was fine, great even. Strategize. Tenth was how they’d sneak past the other teams.

  “Good stuff, this is all good stuff, Lucy.” Ryan sat back and raked his hand through the front of his hair without disturbing a strand. “I’m debating something here. Give me a sec.”

  “Uh, okay, sure.” Lucy’s pen hovered over her notebook. Ryan closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Lucy waited. And waited. Eventually, she thought he’d fallen asleep. Should she wake him or leave quietly? Just as she was about to slide off her chair, his eyes popped open.

  “Okay, I’m doing it. But this has to remain between us. Mentors are under strict rules to encourage, answer general questions, and point our students to ways to solve problems on their own. One thing we are forbidden to do is offer guidance for what the judges will be looking for on Demo Day.” Ryan’s eyes widened. “Oops. They should know I live to break the rules. So, Lucy, this one’s for you: it’s not so much what you present but how you
look doing it.”

  Lucy’s pen slid across the page. Was he giving her fashion advice? “Uh, look? You mean—”

  “Confident. Commanding. Owning the room. You must exude it. Believe me, I know from personal experience how much it can mask. Not that your app won’t be there, for I firmly believe it will be, but if it’s not . . . Own. It. Combined with a Pulse of 7 or higher to demonstrate your influence, and, well, I think I may just be sitting across from my next Pulse-tern.”

  Pulse-tern. Pulse intern. That might just be the cutest thing Lucy had ever heard. And yet, she was only a 4. Racing was 7.

  She licked her bottom lip, resisting the urge to suck it in. “Since you bring it up, I’ve been hoping to get a chance to ask, and I hope it’s okay that I ask, but I just—”

  “Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. I saw you at the club. Shy isn’t in your lexicon. Out with it. Consider me a Reddit AMA.”

  “Well, the thing is, I seem to be having trouble with my Pulse. I’m doing all the right things, at least I think I am, but I can’t seem to get any traction.”

  “And you’re looking for a tip?”

  Lucy nodded.

  “It’s easy, Lucy. You want to raise your Pulse, just be seen with me.”

  FOURTEEN

  SOCIAL PROOF • When investors fund a company based on the prominence of existing investors, i.e., keeping up with the Joneses

  MADDIE COULDN’T STOP THINKING about the time her little brother became best friends with a turkey. As tall as baseball bats, wild turkeys roamed the streets of Cambridge like it was a ten-acre farm. Loitering outside the subway station, pecking the glass of the bike shop, meandering down the brick sidewalks in her neighborhood. Where, one day, Danny saw a male with its red triple chin (Maddie later learned it was called a “wattle”) and reddish-brown fan of tail feathers and declared him George, his new best friend, there to play with him after school.