Failure of any kind really sucks. Really, it does. But as it turns out, women and men are very differently affected by it.
I remember, a few years ago, reading an article in Vogue. The cover story was about a female politician. She told the magazine how she’d launched a campaign running for political office. For several months, she campaigned hard and poured her heart and soul out to the voters—only to lose to the male incumbent. She was shattered, and she told the magazine about the soul-searching she’d gone through after that defeat. She felt as if the failure was a reflection of her self worth, as so many women often do after a defeat. She then told the magazine about an incident that changed her perspective entirely. After the defeat, she talked to another retired male politician, who then told her that her supposed “failure” was nothing compared to his. He told her how he’d ran for public office no less than seven times before he finally managed to win. When she heard his story, her jaw dropped. She asked him if, during that time, his confidence had ever wavered. He simply told her that no, he’d only tried again and again. Inspired by his story, she ran again the next election season—and won.
The purpose of the story is fairly simple: failure shouldn’t scare us off. But the story also so perfectly narrates how striking the difference between men and women is when it comes to handling failure. Women think failure is a reflection on ourselves, while men are generally quicker to shake it off and try again.
Large research studies seem to support this train of thought as well. Claudia Goldin, an economics professor at Harvard, examined why so there are so few female majors in her field. Goldin looked at how grades awarded in an introductory economics class affected the chance that a student would ultimately major in the subject. She found that the likelihood of a woman majoring in economics dropped steadily as her grade fell: women who received a B in Econ 101, for example, were about half as likely as women who received As to stick with the discipline. However, the same discouragement gradient didn’t exist for men. Of Econ 101 students, men who received As were about equally as likely as men who received Bs to concentrate in the subject.
Another research project, led by Peter Arcidiacono at Duke University, found similar trends for women in STEM. Arcidiacono’s research, while preliminary, suggests that women might also value high grades more than men do and sort themselves into fields where grading curves are more lenient, a.k.a. non-STEM, fields.
That’s not to dis anyone who chooses to drop out of STEM for liberal arts, but the possibility that women are dropping out of STEM fields simply because they fear delivering imperfection is a terrifying one. Remember, on net, many more women enter college intending to major in STEM or economics than exit with a degree in those fields.
At the heart of it, it’s not just a failure issue, but a confidence one. The cover story in the May issue of The Atlantic states that, “Compared with men, women don’t consider themselves as ready for promotions, they predict they’ll do worse on tests, and they generally underestimate their abilities.” They also cited data on “women thinking they have to have 100 percent of job qualifications before they’ll take something on or ask for a promotion, and men will do it at 60 percent.” Shocking, right?
So, what’s the solution? How do we as women increase our confidence? Two things: stop expecting perfection of yourself and stop fearing failure.
I know that this advice is easier said than done. Although I’m usually pretty lax, I can also be a ridiculous perfectionist at times. I’m also writing this article fresh off a “failure” as well: a defeat in the freshman senate election. I’m not one to air my dirty laundry, but I will say, losing the election after all my efforts definitely stung.
But I shook it off soon after, and here’s why: I know that being a perfectionist and fearing failure means shutting your mind off to risks, to the possibilities of what could be. Yeah, losing sucks. But so would closing myself off, and that is one thing I will never do to myself. This one failure definitely won’t stop me from running again. Because at the end of the day, I know that I’m worth and capable of so much more—and women everywhere need to realize the same. Just imagine what we as women could do if we weren’t afraid to take a fall. We might just realize that we were capable of handling the pressure the whole time.
