Lean In

instead of firing me, he taught me how to use the program. That’s a great boss.
    Women are also more reluctant to apply for promotions even when deserved, often believing that good job performance will naturally lead to rewards. 8 Carol Frohlinger and Deborah Kolb, founders of Negotiating Women, Inc., describe this as the “Tiara Syndrome,” where women “expect that if they keep doing their job well someone will notice them and place a tiara on their head.” 9 In a perfect meritocracy, tiaras would be doled out to the deserving, but I have yet to see one floating around an office. Hard work and results
should
be recognized by others, but when they aren’t, advocating for oneself becomes necessary. As discussed earlier, this must be done with great care. But it must be done.
    Taking risks, choosing growth, challenging ourselves, and asking for promotions (with smiles on our faces, of course) are all important elements of managing a career. One of my favorite quotes comes from author Alice Walker, who observed, “The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.”
    Do not wait for power to be offered. Like that tiara, it might never materialize. And anyway, who wears a tiara on a jungle gym?

5
Are You My Mentor?
    W HEN I WAS a child, one of my favorite books was
Are You My Mother?
, the story of a baby bird that emerges from its shell to discover an empty nest. The hatchling heads off in search of its missing mother, asking a kitten, a hen, a dog, and a cow the burning question: “Are you my mother?” Each animal responds, “No.” The hatchling grows more desperate, eventually shouting, “Are you my mother?” at a car, a boat, a plane, and even a steam shovel, which can only respond with a loud “Snort!” Stuck in the shovel’s jaws, the hatchling appears doomed until, miraculously, the shovel lifts the bird back to its nest. The mother returns and the hatchling announces, “You are a bird, and you are my mother.”
    This children’s book poignantly mirrors the professional question “Are you my mentor?” If someone has to ask the question, the answer is probably no. When someone finds the right mentor, it is obvious. The question becomes a statement. Chasing or forcing that connection rarely works, and yet I see women attempt this all the time. When I give speeches or attend meetings, a startling number of women introducethemselves and, in the same breath, ask me to be their mentor. I cannot recall a single man asking me to do the same (although men have asked me to mentor their wives or girlfriends).
    The question is a total mood killer—the equivalent of turning to a pensive date and asking, “What are you thinking?” Every senior woman I have talked to about this is deluged with the same request. Their reaction is unanimous: “Oh, I never know what to say when people I don’t know ask me to be their mentor.” The interaction is flattering, but awkward. Even media mogul Oprah Winfrey, who has taught so much to an entire generation, admits that she feels uncomfortable when someone asks her to be a mentor. She once explained, “I mentor when I see something and say, ‘I want to see that grow.’ ”
    In part, we’ve brought this on ourselves. For the past decade, talk of mentorship and sponsorship has been topic number one at any women’s career seminar. It is the focus of blogs, newspaper articles, and research reports. Many of these young women are responding to the often repeated advice that if they want to scale the corporate ladder, they need to find mentors (people who will advise them) as well as sponsors (people who will use their influence to advocate for them). 1
    The emphasis on finding a mentor became especially clear to me when I went back to speak at Harvard Business School in the spring of 2011. I was invited by Dean Nitin Nohria, who joined me onstage and conducted the interview. His first questions centered on Facebook and what it was like to work for Mark. I told him that I loved it, except on days when coworkers said things like, “Sheryl, can you look at this? We need to know what old people will think of this feature.” We discussed the Arab Spring and a slew of other timely topics. Dean Nohria then asked me a question about women in the workforce. I’m not sure what possessed me, but I turned to look at the audience, paused, and answered with brutal honesty. “If current trends continue, fifteen years from today, about