The Female Lead Page 16
It was easier to find sailors this time because Maiden had inspired a whole generation
I withdrew from sailing for some years after that because the pressure was so intense, not least over what to do next, and I wasn’t handling it well – but then Howard called me about the Jules Verne Trophy [for the fastest circumnavigation of the world in any type of yacht] and we started putting together the first all-female crew to sail a Maxi multihull. It was easier to find sailors this time because Maiden had inspired a whole generation of girls. We broke so many records and we were 500 miles ahead, knowing that we had really great weather ahead of us, when we broke our mast in the Southern Ocean.
I became a project manager and got involved in a scheme in Qatar to create a nonstop round-the-world race for multihulls. I borrowed £8 million on the strength of the contracts, but the sponsorship was never paid and that pushed me into bankruptcy. It was the worst experience of my life. You become a child – no bank account, no credit cards; you have to deal in cash. I’d left home at 16 with £50, I’d become a self-made millionaire and, now, at 43, I had £43 in my pocket.
Ten years later, I have worked in internet safety and as a speaker. In 2014, I got an email from a guy asking if I knew Maiden was sitting in the Seychelles, abandoned by her owner, bills unpaid. Nothing on the boat has changed – even our names are still on the lockers. We’re bringing the boat back to the UK, where we’ll use her to promote girls’ rights to education. I will continue to be involved, although probably not on the sailing side. I don’t really sail now. For me, it’s all or nothing. On a day sail, I get seasick.
Tracy’s Object
A sextant. That’s the thing about navigation that I fell in love with. It measures the distance between the sun and the horizon. You hold it up to your eye and measure the angles, then use logarithms. It’s like magic. It’s sheer joy to guide the boat into harbour, dead centre, having sailed across the Atlantic with just a sextant, seeing what sailors would have seen 200 years ago, totally connected to your surroundings.
TRACY EDWARDS
Round the World sailor
PROF NAZNEEN RAHMAN
Nazneen Rahman, professor of human genetics, is head of the division of genetics and epidemiology at the Institute of Cancer Research in the UK, and head of the cancer genetics clinical unit at the Royal Marsden NHS Foundation Trust in London. After qualifying in medicine from Oxford University in 1991, she undertook her general medical training in Oxford and London, and she completed a PhD in molecular genetics in 1999. Her research work has been directed towards mapping and identifying human disease genes, with her primary areas of research being breast, ovarian and childhood cancer susceptibility. She is also an accomplished musician. A finalist in the UK Songwriting Contest 2013, she released her album Can’t Clip My Wings in 2014, gigs regularly and is working on a second album.
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Lots of women are drawn to STEM [science, technology, engineering and maths] subjects at school and university, but further up the career ladder, you find fewer women at senior levels. Although that’s not confined to science, certain aspects of science have male stereotypes and are thought of as being masculine. It’s a very complex, multi-faceted problem – otherwise it would have been solved by now! Quite a lot of unconscious biases continue to exist, and those are the most difficult to overcome – women’s perceptions as well as men’s.
People are trying to solve the problem by making it easier for women to be like men, but in my opinion, the way forward is to encourage diversity, rather than fit into this constrictive, conservative mode of how things are being done.
Careers in science are organised around pretty traditional male-oriented patterns, which aren’t really necessary in this day and age. We can be a lot more flexible. I do a lot of work from my laptop. Conferences could be conducted online, or by video conferencing. But the people at the top – men – don’t necessarily have the same need or desire to change the status quo. People are trying to solve the problem by making it easier for women to be like men, but in my opinion, the way forward is to encourage diversity, rather than fit into this constrictive, conservative mode of how things are being done. We need to be proactive, rather than passively hoping that people will change through encouragement.
I come from an academic, traditional family. My father’s a doctor, and I decided to be a doctor fairly early on, although I could also have been happy doing other things. I thought I would enjoy it and that was enough for me. I think whatever I had chosen, I’d have made the best of it. Too much choice can be stressful and a lot of people are pressurised into thinking there is one perfect choice.
I’ve always loved being a doctor, for the combination of problem-solving and the creativity of science, and also being useful. Creative and useful is a perfect mix for me. I can find excitement and some way of being useful in most things that I’m drawn to. I came to genetics by chance. I did my PhD in genetics, really enjoyed it and was fortunate enough to be in an environment that was very exciting. The genes we work on can potentially cause a higher risk of cancer. We can identify this and prevent people from getting cancer in the first place. Working on something that’s valued by society has been gratifying.
I don’t know anyone of any age who isn’t struggling with finding a balance between work and the rest of their lives. It does seem to be something that’s of our age. I know I have a sweet spot and once I go beyond it, putting in more hours doesn’t make me more productive, while others seem to be able to go on and on. I’d got into a cycle of not working [long hours] but feeling guilty about it, and that seemed to me the worst possible scenario. I started documenting how much time I was spending on what. Via an app on my phone I found out that I was spending a third of my time working. I thought, ‘I’m spending enough time on work. That’s how much I’m comfortable with,’ and that liberated the time I was spending feeling guilty. In terms of balance, I’ve always been reasonably good at saying no to things. It’s a zero-sum game – if you say yes to one thing, you have to say no to others. Every quarter, I sit down and think about how I’ve used my time, and whether I wish I’d used it better. Thinking about it means I consciously make better use of my time.
Rarely does a day go by when I don’t discover a woman who inspires me, right across the generations, from 16 year olds to octogenarians.
Rarely does a day go by when I don’t discover a woman who inspires me, right across the generations, from 16 year olds to octogenarians. When I was at school, I found a number of my teachers inspiring – also historical figures, people I read about. I also found music inspiring. The female role models at the time were really dynamic – Annie Lennox, Chrissie Hynde, Kate Bush. The music, the voices, the individuality – you really felt that they were doing what they wanted to do and I think that had more of an influence on me than I realised. Everything seems a little more homogenised and commercialised now – although, having said that, I love Adele.
I’ve become very interested in leadership, and much more conscious and proactive about how I want to lead. There are lots of different ways to be a good leader, and different circumstances require different types of leadership. One of my mottos is: ‘There seems to be almost no way of being a perfect leader and infinite numbers of ways of being an imperfect leader.’ I like to lead from the front, and it also feels important to me that there’s no part of the work that I wouldn’t be happy to do myself, no part that isn’t worthy of my time and effort. Being a humane leader is important, understanding that people are inherently inconsistent, and trying to accommodate that. Leading is something one carries on trying to be less bad at on a daily basis, and one of the roles is being a person that others can complain about!
The thing that has always given me confidence, one of the joys of being a doctor and a scientist, is petitioning for other people, other causes.
Like most people, I can summon confidence in some areas and not others. The thing that has always given me confidence, one of the joys
of being a doctor and a scientist, is petitioning for other people, other causes. I think I would have been less effective, certainly when I was younger, in an entrepreneurial role that was simply for myself. When it’s for a patient or a scientific truth, I have absolutely no trouble standing up and giving my opinion. When I feel I’m acting for something I really believe in, it makes me strong.
Nazneen’s Object
A piano. I would hate to be without one. In recent years I’ve come to realise how important music is, and what it means to me. There’s never a time, whether I’m happy or stressed, that music won’t help me in one way or another. Music has been a constant companion in my life. Sometimes it has taken a back seat, when I’ve been working hard or being a mother – then there has been a resurgence. In the same way that relationships always change, my relationship with music has changed, developed, been very dynamic – but music is an ongoing relationship, a constant companion.
PROF NAZNEEN RAHMAN
Geneticist, doctor and singer-songwriter
KATHARINE VINER
Katharine Viner is the editor in chief of the Guardian, the first woman to be appointed to the job. She grew up in Yorkshire, attended Ripon Grammar School and read English at Oxford, beginning her journalistic career at the age of 21 by winning a competition run by the Guardian. She joined Cosmopolitan magazine for work experience and stayed on to become features assistant, then news and careers editor, subsequently spending three years at the Sunday Times magazine. In 1997, she started on the women’s page at the Guardian, moving on to edit the Saturday weekend supplement and having a stint as features editor before being promoted to deputy editor in 2008. After running the Saturday Guardian for four years, she took off for Australia, overseeing the launch of the paper’s online edition there, which became a notable journalistic and commercial success. Some time in New York followed, where she was in charge of the American edition, and then it was back to London to take the top job. Outside journalism, Katharine co-wrote a play with Alan Rickman, My Name Is Rachel Corrie, which was based on the emails of a young American activist who was killed in Gaza in 2003. London’s Royal Court Theatre put it on in 2005.
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I always wanted to do something with words and writing but I didn’t know any journalists and I didn’t know anything about journalism. I did write my first piece when I was still at school, about the end of O levels [which were being replaced by GCSEs], coincidentally for the Guardian, but I didn’t join the dots until quite late – no student journalism or anything like that. I won a Guardian competition when I was 21 but I entered as a feminist rather than a journalist, because I liked the women’s page. The prize was to edit the page for a week, which became two weeks in the end, and that was my lightbulb moment. I loved the immediacy, the pace of the newsroom, and I loved the research, making a story accessible and communicating it. I just found it all so pleasurable.
I was never shy. That helps a lot. It’s impossible to say, of course, whether I would have had a different career if I were a man. I think you bring all of your life experiences to everything you do, so being a woman is an important part of that – as is coming from the North, as is living in south London – but whether it’s made a difference, for better or worse, I can’t tell.
If I could have advised my younger self, I might have said, ‘Go into newspapers right away,’ although I can’t regret being at Cosmopolitan and the Sunday Times magazine. I’d just moved to London and I met great people and had loads of fun and learned lots of stuff. I didn’t see an entry point to newspapers at that time and I did see one in women’s magazines. I have never encountered snobbery about that because I’m so obviously interested in serious things.
I might also have said, ‘Relax. Don’t beat your-self up.’ Your 20s often aren’t easy because you’re still struggling to sort yourself out. Everything got really great when I turned 30.
To get this job, I was chosen by the Scott Trust [the Guardian’s owners] and also elected by the staff. I think the staff appreciated that I understand the Guardian in my bones. I’ve lived with it all my life and I care about it deeply and want it to survive. It matters to me and so they know I’ll do my best to take care of it. Someone said a funny thing: ‘You’re the only one of the candidates who seems absolutely to love their job.’ It’s true. I do love my job. I think people like that exuberance.
In order to set up the operation in Australia I had to think about essentials – ‘What is the purpose of the Guardian? Who are we in our soul?’ – and then articulate that with an Australian accent. We started on a shoestring, with a tiny number of people. I used to write lots of stories under the byline ‘Guardian staff’, and I was subbing at weekends. Now it’s quite a big commercial operation with more than 40 journalists. Then I also had to reimagine the Guardian with an American accent. So my pitch for the editorship was: ‘What is the Guardian now, what is the Guardian in essence?’
I think we’re about being on the people’s side. A tiny élite runs the world, and then there’s all the rest of us. I think we have to be on the side of all the rest of us.
I think the staff appreciated that I understand the Guardian in my bones. I’ve lived with it all my life and I care about it deeply and want it to survive.
Journalism is still a great career for a young person. You get to find out about new things, and learn how to communicate. It’s an exciting time. Journalism is flourishing in all sorts of ways. It’s more open-access than when I started; you can publish stories online; you can show what your writing’s like, what your reporting’s like. The business model is challenged but I think the possibilities of journalism are much more open than ever. All free societies need strong news organisations. It’s in our collective civic interest that journalism survives, so I think we will work out how to pay for it.
I’m working on the way women are treated online and what that means for women on the Guardian, because we have a responsibility. It’s a challenge for women in public life.
Anyone can report something, anyone can write something – and that gives a kind of vibrancy to information. At the same time, people want journalists who are qualified to verify that information and say what really happened. There’s a greater need than ever for good reporting. When there’s a major event, all sorts of rumours fly about on social media and you need to know where to go for information you can trust. People are hungrier for information than ever before but also hungrier for someone to tell them what’s true and what isn’t.
I’m working on the way women are treated online and what that means for women on the Guardian, because we have a responsibility. It’s a challenge for women in public life. I’m not sure this period of online aggression is going to last for ever. I have a theory that although it may be acceptable now, it won’t always be, in the way that domestic violence was once acceptable and isn’t any more. It’s a completely unreasonable way to expect women to live. If someone came up to a woman in the street, swearing in her face or threatening to rape her, we wouldn’t accept it, so we shouldn’t accept it online. It’s a big issue but I think we’ll resolve it.
My only slight regret is that I wish I’d been a foreign correspondent – but I’ve got an amazing job at the right time in my life, and I’ve had such fun. I feel like I’ve grabbed every opportunity. I’m just so pleased!
Katharine’s Object
My clackety old grey typewriter, the Grey Fox from Silver Reed, with its own carry case and inky ribbons and plastic elegance. It was a present for Christmas and my birthday combined – my 12th, I think – and I’d stay up late clanging out poems and short stories, and thoughts, essays and ideas, loving words, loving making words my own.
KATHARINE VINER
Editor-in-chief, Guardian
RESHMA SAUJANI
Founder and CEO of Girls Who Code, Reshma Saujani was born in Illinois, the daughter of Indian refugees who left Uganda in 1973. After graduating from the University of Illinois, Harvard’s Kennedy Sch
ool of Government and Yale Law School, she worked as an attorney before becoming the first Indian American woman to run for US Congress, in 2010. She went on to become Deputy Public Advocate of New York City and, in 2013, ran a campaign to become Public Advocate on a platform of creating educational and economic opportunities for women and immigrants. When she was unsuccessful, she devoted herself full-time to the national non-profit organisation, Girls Who Code, which she established in 2012 to close the gender gap in STEM (science, technology, engineering and maths)education and empower girls to pursue careers in technology and engineering.
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I have always wanted to change the world, and my parents’ experience as refugees from Uganda was a factor. They were engineers who came to the United States in the 70s. They didn’t have family here and they moved to a small suburb outside Chicago where there weren’t a lot of communities of colour. They had to learn the language and how to assimilate and they struggled to find jobs. My mother sold cosmetics, my father was a machinist and I started working when I was 12, as a dog walker.
Young girls need knowledge and mentoring. Often it is better to have a mentor who is just one step above you rather than ten – someone who can help with basic questions.
My father used to read me stories about Dr Martin Luther King, Mahatma Gandhi and Helen Keller and I grew up with admiration for people who live their life in service. I’ve always been passionate about poverty alleviation and racial equity and, after watching a movie about a powerful female attorney, I decided to be a lawyer. I wanted to go to Yale but was rejected three times. Eventually, I knocked on the door of the dean of Yale and said, ‘I have been wanting to come here since I was 12. I work hard. I have great grades. I will make a difference in the world, just give me a shot.’ I had got into a bunch of schools and he said, ‘Go to any of them, get in the top 10 per cent and then transfer.’ I picked Georgetown in Washington DC because I was passionate about politics and, later, having done my master’s at Harvard, I transferred to Yale.