Power
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve worked for some bad women. They can be just as starry-eyed, manipulative, or petty as men. But mostly I’ve been at companies founded and controlled by men, who created professional cultures that were male-dominated from the start. Many of the people at the top maintained an obliviousness to power dynamics that was detrimental to the women and people of color beneath them. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the most functional workplace I’ve ever encountered is run by a woman.
At Dirt Candy, I report to two Amandas. Amanda Cohen is the founder and owner, the creative source for everything we make and the ultimate decision-maker on anything important. Amanda-Lee is the Chef de Cuisine, which means she runs day-to-day operations for the back-of-house and I’d probably ask her first if I’m cutting a carrot the right way or what to do if there is no more parsley. Both of them are usually at the restaurant when I’m there, putting in longer hours than anybody else.
Amanda-Lee reminds me of the women I used to roll with when I practiced jiu jitsu. She stands wide-legged with elbows out and shoulders hunched in, biceps making her short sleeves tight. She lopes around the kitchen with long strides that somehow make her seem taller than she is, even though I’ve got a good few inches on her. But I tend to see people as taller when I respect them. She acts a bit like our sports coach, giving us a talk before every dinner service that’s encouraging but sometimes a light reprimand. The only time she really seems annoyed though is if you try to ask her a question while she’s in the middle of counting something. I’d be annoyed too.
Amanda Cohen is intense, focused, and naturally reserved. She’s a small woman who doesn’t take up much space, though attention in the kitchen swirls inexorably around her. You get the sense that she’d rather be working quietly and not talking to anyone, but has been thrust into the spotlight by being in a position of power. These kinds of people tend to be the best leaders, in my opinion. She generally cedes the floor to Amanda-Lee or Jackie, the general manager, but steps in to say something when it needs to be said. She’ll tell you if your posture is bad (hers is excellent) or if you’re doing something inefficiently. I’m a good student who hates being told off, but I don’t really mind it from her because I usually learn something.
It’s scary to meet your idols because of how often your image is better than the real thing. I knew a lot about Amanda from the Internet and through her cookbook-memoir-graphic novel before I joined Dirt Candy, and respected her for being confrontational, transparent and openly critical of the restaurant industry. But I worried that internally she’d foster a competitive spirit among her staff or that she’d simply be absent from the restaurant because she was busy being a public figure. Neither are true. She and Amanda-Lee have repeatedly emphasized that there’s no “sink-or-swim” mentality at the restaurant and during dinner service, we constantly jump onto each other’s stations if someone needs help. What seems like an aggressive attitude on the Internet gets filtered in person through Amanda’s quieter personality, or maybe her Canadian-ness, and the situations in which she’s direct or critical feel justified.
I wrote a few weeks ago about staying hard and soft, and in her way, Amanda exemplifies that. It takes steely audacity to start a restaurant, especially in New York / as a woman / without cooking meat. You’re basically opening yourself up for condescension or, as is usually the case, disregard by the media and industry figureheads at every turn. But it takes another kind of strength to not let that intransigence overwhelm all your interactions with your colleagues and staff. So many powerful women adopt the patriarchal culture that rejected them until they could prove they were strong enough to belong. Fewer manage to rise to power calling bullshit as they see it the whole way up. Amanda crashes through glass ceilings but takes care to clean up the shards for those who might follow.
What I’m reading
Recollections of My Nonexistence by Rebecca Solnit
Mostly we hear from people who survive difficulties or break through barriers and the fact that they did so is often used to suggest the difficulties or barriers were not so very serious or that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Not everyone makes it through, and what tries to kill you takes a lot of your energy that might be better used elsewhere and makes you tired and anxious.
There are many costs of sexism but one of the most banal and potent is simply the energy cost of the labor of vigilance. Maybe you aren’t the target of discrimination, but when you’re familiar with it you always have in mind that you might be. Misogyny, like racism, undergirds so many of our social interactions that you just don’t know when it’s present. Did he treat me with such disrespect because that’s his temperament or because I’m a woman? Did I fail to get noticed because I’m not good enough or because I wasn’t the person they were expecting to see? These kinds of thoughts can overwhelm and distract you from your work, or from your life.
Qualities like graciousness, receptivity, and openness to failure and learning are that much harder to cultivate inside a tough defensive shell. The warrior-woman so many of us construct is powerful, but being only that is limiting in its own way. I seek a self-confidence deep enough to know when I don’t have to fight.