Choosing to Care as a Leader

Is there such a thing as female leadership? I've often been asked this question. It may be tempting to reply with the affirmative—to try to « explain » leadership styles, whether our intent is to fit in, include, or antagonize. I'm personally averse to any notion of essentialism, so my own impulse is to scream at this question. As I examine my own path, though, I realize this: female leadership doesn't exist, but the experience of being a woman leader is real. Let's unpack what this means for me.

What's leadership?

Today, I lead engineering teams at Pigment - joining first as an Individual Contributor, I grew the team from 15 engineers to more than 100 over the last 5 years. My job is to create a vision that engages people around me. If I talk to a developer about « doubling our customer base in the next year », it will not speak to their day-to-day. Making this connection is my job—leveraging business acumen, translating the technology, managing people, organizations and systems. More importantly, my coworkers know who I am, what my values are, how I think, and where we are heading—and why. This is leadership: as a leader, you need to bring out the most compelling « why » for your teams.

If we go by this definition, leadership doesn't have a gender.

Yet—more often than not, popular belief associates leadership with traits we could call « masculine ». Taking risks, breaking doors, being loud—traits I would actually consider toxic when they're a permanent mode of leading. It's a widely adopted construct though: for many, to lead is to be « strong ». Hence a recurring question: should women leaders adopt these traits? Should women behave like men to be considered acceptable leaders?

Even if that were an answer to the question (it is obviously not), it would be impossible to do. We've all heard this advice: we should « influence without authority ». It sounds reasonable enough, yet it's the most misused advice I've ever heard in tech. Yes, it works pretty well if you are a straight white cis man, say in your 30-40s, and you have to convince other people like you—as is statistically likely to happen in tech. These people may not all be of the same opinion, but they share a profile, thoughts, values—50% of the decision-making happening in such a group is actually « fit », framed as influence.

But « fit » won't play for women, or any member of an underrepresented group. Stereotypes are commonly associated with the groups we belong to; we're expected to conform to these stereotypes, otherwise, we face pushback. For women, the required trait is empathy. I've witnessed this in my career: a coworker being told she was pushy, when she was striving to reach a decision; a promising candidate being rejected for just this reason. I faced hostile or hurt reactions from coworkers when they realized my listening wasn't necessarily agreeing. Further examples are extremely well described in Sheryl Sandberg's book Lean In.

This is a difficult balance to strike, and this may be disheartening: to think that as women leaders, we are forever stuck with being either too hard, or too soft. Yet we exist. We're proof there is another way, and I am convinced this way is action.

Call to action

As a leader (regardless of your gender)

When I built out the career grid of our engineers at Pigment, the need for seniority levels was challenged by people who perceived them as « titles ». I researched how and why other companies had needed them before us. One reason stood out for me: levels formalize legitimacy against bias, especially when stereotypes will make it harder to recognize our achievements. This need for clarity resonated with my own experience.

Throughout my career, I've often been asked to take on informal responsibilities or to « animate » groups rather than formally managing them. These expectations are disproportionately placed on women, who are often seen as natural facilitators or coordinators. Yet leadership responsibilities should come with the leverage to succeed: clear authority, decision-making power, and organizational support. Responsibilities without leverage are not opportunities, they're setups to fail. As a leader, when we trust someone enough to ask more of them, let's stand by our decision and create true leverage.

As a coworker

One day, a coworker told me he didn't see why DEI should concern him. It was genuine—he perceived it as a fight led by groups he didn't belong to. But the question behind inclusivity is broader than this. It asks: are you okay with your coworker being interrupted in meetings, talked over, denied the right to share their ideas and insights? ANY coworker—are you okay with that? What kind of company do you want to work at, and what kind of person do you want to be? Diversity questions hold up a mirror to us as human beings.

There is no need to participate in grand projects or to do something absolutely brave—this is a frequent misunderstanding with DEI. All you have to do is show up. Make room for other people's opinions, take the time to understand interaction styles, share the stage, literally and figuratively. Beware of passive agreement—one line: « I agree with X and we should do this » moves projects forward when 50 thumbs up emojis cannot.

And if, as a man, you ARE feeling brave: call out exclusive behaviors when you witness them. I've been involved in DEI questions for so long, I regret that so many discussions happen in a closed loop—those who take the strongest stances are already putting themselves on the line every day. The day a man says to another, "What you did is not OK with me, and I do not support it," publicly, he shows he is ready to let go of the relationship and the comfort that comes with it. I am convinced this is when we'll see real progress.

As women leaders

I truly believe the greatest mark of privilege is the permission not to care without ever facing consequences. This is why debates about equity get stuck sometimes. Members of an underrepresented group ask for attention from members of a dominant group. This dominant group has the entire freedom to give, or not to give that attention—to believe, or not, facts and figures, no matter how objectively presented. I've seen that script played over and over again. It can be exhausting.

As women leaders, we don't have this privilege. How can we advocate for our own rights while denying them for our neighbors? We can't! So we care. Not by essence. Because we have to.

And this may be, in fact, our greatest asset as leaders. Company systems reproduce fit—hiring, recognizing, promoting the exact same profiles, over and over. To break that loop and build something different, where diverse opinions are heard, welcomed and valued—we need leaders willing to cross lines. This is where we have leverage. Let's hire and select managers who care, and reflect that in all our decisions, including the difficult ones. Let's recognize behaviors beyond pure technical proficiency. Let's give a push or two behind the scenes to promote equity.

We don't have the power to change everything—I certainly don't. I can't overturn a government's decision to make maths optional in high school (*). I can't create a diverse hiring pipeline out of thin air, without an intentional effort from the rest of the company. I can't halt the current backlash against our rights—at the very best, I try to resist it. But there is an ecosystem I can build, values I can share, people I can recruit, support and promote.

For this to happen, I have to be who I am. To accept I lead from my particularities, not against them. There is no female leadership, only leaders—with the deliberate choice to care.

(*) A measure that had devastating effect on gender parity in scientific studies in France—it has been reverted since

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