The Female Lead Read online

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  I was a rebel and I was expelled from three boarding schools. That kind of subversiveness is useful – you should always question everything and push boundaries. I regard getting slung out of those schools as a badge of pride because they were such uptight, upscale boarding schools that any budding journalist would want to rebel.

  Looking back, I suppose I was fearless – or, more accurately, reckless! I would be invited to events and as an unassuming young woman I could fly under the radar.

  Initially, I wanted to be a playwright but I turned to journalism as a way to get paid for writing. When I started out, I wouldn’t have described myself as ambitious. Looking back, I suppose I was fearless – or, more accurately, reckless! I would be invited to events and as an unassuming young woman I could fly under the radar. No one was expecting me to write a sharp piece or something insightful – it was fun surprising them.

  The meetings I had to go to when I was young were often full of pale, stale males hogging the conversation. I always knew I had good ideas, but at the beginning I feared to voice them. With each year, I held back less and less. Early success does create a bit of pressure, but I get a lot of energy from my work and I also do what I love. Regardless of my career, I would be digging into news sites and devouring anything and everything on my Twitter feed. I certainly didn’t think of myself as a trailblazer. I just knew what I wanted and went for it with everything I had. Early on with Vanity Fair, when I was constantly being asked ‘When is your magazine going down the toilet?’ we had a big photo story about to go to press on the love marriage of Nancy and Ronald Reagan – wonderful pictures – when word came that the White House was thinking of withdrawing permission. I took the chance of flying to DC the next morning, hugging the dummies, and the Reagans, bless ’em, relented.

  I have been lucky to work with many great writers. I’ve learned to trust my instincts when it comes to hiring talent. A good writer has a distinctive voice and a point of view that leaps from the page. I want to read a piece and be challenged to think about something in a new and different way. Dominick Dunne did it for me, and his piece on the murder of his daughter was one of those breaks that lifted Vanity Fair.

  The thing I feel proudest of is my work at the New Yorker, finding the old guard so in touch and introducing incredible new talent. Now Women in the World is my passion project. It builds on everything I’ve done before. It’s a live publishing experience – and giving incredible women a platform to share their stories has been one of the most rewarding things I’ve done.

  Journalism remains a great career. We need more long-form journalists in the digital age, people who are thinking critically and synthesising information, not just spitting out clips for the 24-hour news cycle. There are also new and exciting platforms, such as VICE (where my daughter works) and Medium, which are finding different ways to cover stories or find voices.

  Yes, I do push people, but I’ve found many who didn’t realise how very good they are until they’re asked to go that extra mile.

  It’s important to lead by example. If I’m not willing to stay up all night to make something perfect, why would anyone who works for me do that? Yes, I do push people, but I’ve found many who didn’t realise how very good they are until they’re asked to go that extra mile – make that two miles, and raining! The extra effort is that bit that can be magic and make the product a cut above the rest.

  That’s why I’m not afraid to take chances and to push staff – and magazine audiences – outside of their comfort zones. I was often put in charge of magazines when their influence was waning. My job was to reinvigorate and revive those brands. Some might see the choices I made as ‘brave’, but they were choices that I thought were imperative to bring magazines such as Vanity Fair and the New Yorker into their next era. I think women take more flak – you’re bitchy, you’re bossy, you’re ‘Stalin in high heels’, as I was called (accurately!). I don’t have a Google alert.

  I have been much moved by the women I’ve met through Women in the World – women like the mother whose daughter went on jihad in Syria, and the Israeli and Palestinian mothers who lost their sons and work together for peace. We’ve been graced by the support of Meryl Streep – who’s been with us from day one, as has Hillary Clinton – and more recently Helen Mirren, Angelina Jolie, Cate Blanchett, Christine Lagarde and Condi Rice.

  You can’t hear from those women without being driven to do better and more with your life. With Women in the World, I am trying to give a platform to women on the frontlines of international news to tell their own stories, and help them reach a larger audience to effect change. In 2015, we brought our summits to London and New Delhi.

  My husband, Sir Harry Evans, is the greatest editor I know and our partnership and his belief in me has allowed me to be successful both personally and professionally. He wants me to slow down. I say I might when he does, but I continue to have new ideas and to find projects that make me feel alive. Besides going global with Women in the World, I’m in the middle of writing my memoir, Media Beast, and I know I have a few more books in me.

  Tina’s Object

  A slim black Economist diary. I’ve been re-ordering it since 1980 and it’s very personal because when I first met my husband, one of the things I fell in love with was the little black Economist diary in which he would write all his appointments, including when he was seeing me, and our little anniversaries. Even now that I have calendars online, I don’t feel fully grounded without my little, lateral view Economist diary. At weekends I take my digital calendar and fill up my Economist diary for the week. I have my initials in gold on the front and my husband has his, with his initials on the front, so we don’t get them mixed up. I like the fact that it’s British. The anniversaries inside are British anniversaries and the tube map is at the back. I sometimes find myself in meetings looking at it and it gives me a heartwarming feeling, a sense of being close to my old home.

  TINA BROWN

  Founder of Women in the World, editor and author

  FRANCHESCA RAMSEY

  Franchesca Ramsey is a writer, actor and video blogger, based in New York. She has two YouTube channels – Chesalocs, which is dedicated to natural haircare, beauty and styling (she has long dreadlocks); and another on which she comments on social issues, including race, gender and sexual health, through sketches and pieces to camera. Between them, her channels have more than 250,000 subscribers; in total, her videos have had more than 26 million views. Franchesca Ramsey shot to fame in January 2012 when her video Shit White Girls Say to Black Girls went viral. The four and a half minute film was a comic riff on Shit Girls Say, the humorous web series created by Canadian writers Kyle Humphrey and Graydon Sheppard. Her version had 1.5 million views in 24 hours and 5 million in five days. It has now been seen more than 11 million times. Franchesca Ramsey, who is known as Chescaleigh to her online fans, continues to make videos about subjects as diverse as cleaning your hair with washing soda, training for half marathons and safe sex, appearing as herself and as a range of characters. She is also a host on MTV’s news channel, Decoded.

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  I grew up online. I learned to code when I was in eighth grade [13–14 years old] and I kept an online journal all through middle and high school. I started my YouTube channel in my senior year at the University of Michigan, where I was studying acting. I was very active in the online dreadlock community – although, oddly, I was one of a minority of black people who were involved – and I thought video was a great way of showing what was working and what wasn’t in managing my hair.

  After that, I studied graphic design at the Art Institute of Miami and began doing standup. I won a YouTube contest in 2008, the prize for which was to fly to Los Angeles and work the red carpet at the Emmys. It was awesome, and I realised that this was what I wanted to do. In 2011, I was one of 25 winners of YouTube’s NextUp Creators Contest, winning money to help fund video production and a four-day training camp, all incredibly useful
. I was interested in how you could use comedy to approach subjects such as body image, safe sex and self-confidence.

  Shit White Girls Say to Black Girls was an attempt to reflect my experiences as a girl growing up in the suburbs; I actually grew up in West Palm Beach. The video reflected all the small insults and micro-aggressions that black women are subject to. It was very personal. I certainly didn’t expect it to be such a hit. For a start, Shit Girls Say had already been out for several months and I thought that meme was over. I didn’t realise how many other girls had had those experiences. That was one reason for its success. The other was that white women told me that it was a kind of lightbulb – ‘Oh, wow! This is how I sound!’

  I was interested in how you could use comedy to approach subjects such as body image, safe sex and self-confidence.

  Tons of people were offended by it but I think comedy is a great way to make things that are difficult to talk about a little more digestible. Some people did misunderstand me. They think I hate white people. I don’t hate anyone. They project their own issues on to me, which can be difficult, but I hold on to what my mom said to me: ‘Don’t worry when they talk about you; worry when they don’t talk about you.’

  The success of Shit White Girls Say meant that I got an agent, a manager, television gigs and speaking engagements, and I could quit my full-time job. YouTube is a fantastic, democratic medium. Anyone can pick up a phone and start making a video. People who wouldn’t get a look-in with traditional media can post their creative efforts and see if they can start acquiring an audience. It’s much more collaborative than old media. You’re not talking at your audience; you’re talking to them. On Decoded I tend to pose a question and then respond directly to comments. My audience informs the work I do – so I’m fortunate that they’re smart and thoughtful! Around 70 per cent are female and most are in high school or college, but I have older and younger followers. A lot of my followers are young black women.

  People who wouldn’t get a look-in with traditional media can post their creative efforts and see if they can start acquiring an audience. It’s much more collaborative than old media. You’re not talking at your audience; you’re talking to them.

  I wouldn’t recommend anyone to become a vlogger to get rich and famous. I was producing videos online for six years before Shit White Girls Say. You need to love doing it, and you also need to be able to say something original, in a way that’s innovative, smart, funny and lets the audience participate. When I’m on Decoded, viewers send gifs or video responses or Snapchat comments. I have long conversations on Twitter with people I have never actually met, yet I feel I know them.

  A lot of my audience are people who have been with me a long time. They say things like, ‘I remember before you and Patrick got married…’ They know quite a lot about me but I am definitely more private than a lot of vloggers. I don’t disclose where I live in New York. When I had a job, I didn’t say what I did. I am quite careful about what I reveal. I do always think about whether it’s OK for my parents or my employer to see my videos. My parents watch them and my mom is my biggest cheerleader. She always urged me to work really hard, to be professional and poised. I talk to her every single day.

  I think it’s really important – especially if you’re putting yourself out there – not to compare yourself to anyone else. You can’t measure your success by what someone else is doing. The best tip I know for success is to surround yourself with people who are creative and hard-working. It’s quite isolating being a video blogger, so it’s important to collaborate whenever you can.

  Of course feedback isn’t always kind and, online, there can be a lot of unpleasantness, especially when those responding are anonymous. I do sometimes check out when people are saying nasty things, when they clearly just want to fight with you. There are some battles that are not worth fighting, some people with whom it’s simply not worth engaging. There are a lot of sad strange folk on the internet, who devote way too much time to people they’re supposed to hate. But I manage to take a positive attitude – clearly, I’m doing something that keeps them coming back.

  Franchesca’s Object

  My dog, Kaya. She’s half Yorkie and half Dachshund and she motivates me. She weighs about 3kg [7lb] and she’s ferocious. She sets her own terms for everything and she’s not afraid of much bigger or more impressive-looking dogs. She’s very attentive, always listening. She barks immediately if a package is delivered or if she hears something on the street. She’s intuitive and smart and spunky and that’s how I aim to be – aware of what’s going on and not afraid to speak up.

  FRANCHESCA RAMSEY

  Writer, actor and YouTube star

  LADY BARBARA JUDGE

  Barbara Judge is an American-British businesswoman and the first female chair of the Institute of Directors. Originally a corporate lawyer, she became the youngest-ever member of the US Securities and Exchange Commission; and, following a move to Hong Kong, the first woman executive director of a British merchant bank. She has also been a director of Rupert Murdoch’s News International and of a host of smaller businesses and arts organisations. Lady Judge has advised the UK, Japanese and other countries’ nuclear power industries and is Chairman Emeritus of the UK Atomic Energy Authority. Her current positions include Chairman of the Pension Protection Fund and UK Business Ambassador on behalf of UK Trade and Investment, a government department. Lady Judge sits on the board of Dementia UK and is an occasional food critic.

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  All the ambition and drive I have comes from my mother, who taught women to work in the 1950s. She started a course at New York University on the world of work for women – how to write a CV and dress appropriately; and to answer the ad even though they said they wanted a man. People thought she was very odd. When I announced I wanted to be an actress, she said, ‘To be a successful actress, you need to be able to act and dance and sing and you cannot sing, even in the shower. You’re not going to be a starving actress. If you want to act, act in front of a jury.’ She believed women should work, not because otherwise they’d be poor, but because they had brains and should use them. She taught me to measure myself against men.

  She believed women should work, not because otherwise they’d be poor, but because they had brains and should use them. She taught me to measure myself against men.

  I did very well in law school and when I graduated it was a magic moment because all the big law firms were looking to hire a woman, although there was a lot of, ‘You can’t be a corporate lawyer – that’s for men. And you can’t be a litigator, because that’s for men as well. You can be a family lawyer and that will work better with babies.’ I didn’t even have a boyfriend and they were talking about babies.

  Luckily, I worked for a very smart man in corporate law – I had extremely good grades and, in the end, about 18 offers – and I learned a lot. I worked very hard and became the second woman partner in the firm at the age of 30. He stood up at the partners’ meeting and said, ‘We do not need a woman partner. One is enough. But we do need a good corporate lawyer.’ And they elected me.

  The moral of that story is always be nice to women.

  As a young partner, I went on a trip to China. It was a business tour, filled with important people, and an older lady whom nobody liked. I felt sorry for her and took care of her. When we got back to New York, she took me out to lunch. I gave her my CV, as you would, and told her I’d been made a partner but I was keen to do something more. Nine months later I got a call to go to the White House for an interview to be on the Securities and Exchange Commission. I asked why they’d come to me and they said, ‘It was easy. We called the most senior woman broker on Wall Street and asked her whom we should approach.’ The moral of that story is always be nice to women.

  I think the reason people hire me is that I have one specific good quality – reliability. I am on time and I do what I say. I learn things quickly. I am not a nuclear scientist but when I became chairman of the Atomic Energy A
uthority, I set out to learn. I always study the brief. I work hard, read the papers and try to do a credible job. When people make me chairman, they know I will be a consensus builder. I deal with contentious issues behind the scenes and try to bring people with me so we don’t have arguments at the board table.

  It’s important for women to be on boards. Every time I’m asked to sit on a board I try to put another woman on, too. But it’s even more important for women to be in senior executive jobs. As a non-executive director you’re a minder. You can’t make anything happen; you can only make sure it doesn’t. I think it’s more important to fast-track women to senior executive level. Women have to have female role models.

  When we moved back to America after Hong Kong, our friends were too rich. All they talked about was money and real estate. I had a small child and I didn’t want him to grow up believing money was the most important thing. So we moved to London – I had a lot of contacts here – and my son has grown up as a Brit.

  I have worked throughout my son’s life. On one occassion, when asked at school if he wanted to be a banker, he said, ‘That’s a mummy’s job.’ He once sent me a Mother’s Day card saying I was always there for him and never let him down. I wasn’t always there, in fact, but he had my total attention.