The Confidence Code (26 page)

Dare the difference
. That we like. “You have to be savvy about it,” Lagarde allows, “but you also, in a sense, have to be confident about the difference.”

Two years ago, when we embarked on this project, the “problem” of our lack of confidence loomed large thematically. We envisioned The Confidence Gap as a title, in fact. As journalists, we were exhilarated by the puzzle; as women, we were gloomy. Our early research churned out stories and statistics that seemed hard to battle, an outlook that could take generations to shift. Occasionally we’d wonder whether women were destined, somehow, to feel less self-assured.

But as we deconstructed confidence and picked painstakingly through the scientific and the social and the practical findings, we started to see some glimmers. Suddenly, our confidence rush was on, and we grabbed our pans with a prospector’s fervor, sifting away dirt and sand, swirling the remains until we found plenty of nuggets that had been overlooked, unexamined, or simply unearthed. We tested them and prodded them and ran them through our gauntlet of experts and researchers, until we were certain which rocks were pay dirt. Those became our path to creating confidence—our code—and we’ve boiled it down to the very basics:

Think Less. Take Action. Be Authentic.

Confidence
is
within reach. The experience of it can be addictive. And its greatest rewards aren’t fully characterized by workplace achievements or outward success. “I feel fully engaged and connected and a little high, like I’m accomplishing something great, and lost in the action,” Patti Solis Doyle says, eyes closed, summoning a memory. “I feel rewarded,” Caroline Miller tells us. “And accepted—that there’s a place for me in the world, that I can achieve, that I have a sense of purpose. The Japanese word for purpose literally translates as ‘that which I wake up for.’ I think that’s it.”

We’re back at the Verizon Center to get a final glimpse of Mystics basketball stars Monique Currie and Crystal Langhorne, this time in a game setting. It’s a raucous crowd—the Mystics are about to make the playoffs.

Something our husbands have said to us over the years suddenly rings true: Sports
is
a metaphor for life. Because we can see it all on the court. Preparation and practice melded with a sense of purpose—the zone of confidence.

Just as the metaphor starts to strain, Crystal misses a long shot. But then, a few minutes later, she grabs a rebound, surges back to the basket, twirls to the right, charges the board with a left-handed layup, and sinks the ball. She’s all power at that moment, superhuman, returning a purposeful high five from a teammate with a look that says, “I knew I could do it.”

It looks easy now, but we know, and she knows, how she got there: the hours of practice that went into that shot, and into creating that state of mind and action.

Yes, she may have doubts, here and there. But she’s overcome them enough to take action. She’s earned her confidence. What we’ve just seen is extraordinary, really, better than superhuman, better even than superwoman. Because it’s real, and it’s attainable.

Acknowledgments

A few years ago, the two of us found ourselves at the U.S. Capitol, listening to a series of speakers talk about the ever-vexing issue of women and work. We’d just finished writing
Womenomics
and were now on a master list of some sort for every women-themed meeting. This particular session was in a crowded basement room. Meetings about women’s empowerment are apparently still best conducted in nooks and crannies and with a bit of discomfort.

Much of what we heard we knew already: Women help the bottom line of companies, companies want female talent, but somehow the pipeline to the top is still broken. We listened to a litany of predictable-sounding solutions having to do with flexible hours, legislation, and meetings with mentors.

Then Marie Wilson started talking. Almost seventy, and a storied feminist and fighter on behalf of women in politics, she is titanium determination coated with old-fashioned grace. She said, as we noted in the introduction, that we should think about the challenge this way:

“When a man, imaging his future career, looks in the mirror, he sees a senator staring back. A woman would never be so presumptuous. She needs a push to see that image.”

That hit us with a clarity we hadn’t heard before. It immediately helped us to understand what we’d been seeing in our reporting. In fact, we told her afterward that we think women often can’t even see who they already are—what they’ve already accomplished.

We knew this was a phenomenon we had to explore. We are ever grateful to Marie for giving us the original jolt, and to all her kindred spirits who have labored for decades on these issues to give us the opportunities we have today.

As we have learned, inspiration is just one element paving the road to action. This book would also have never made it out of our ruminative, multitasking brains without the ever-incisive thinking and encouragement that our agent Rafe Sagalyn always provides. He simply refused to accept that we didn’t have another book in us. We mean it as a sincere compliment when we say he can think remarkably like a woman.

Our brilliant editor, Hollis Heimbouch, believed in the project from our very first phone call, and, as she did with
Womenomics
, layered our work with her enthusiasm and smart sensibility, helping us make the subject clear and urging us to fully use our voices. She laughed and groaned and marveled at every bit of the topic right along with us, without ever letting us lower our standards. Very much the ideal friend prototype we mention.

This book would never have made it to the presses without the meticulous attention to detail and infinite patience of Associate Editor Colleen Lawrie. Leslie Cohen and Stephanie Cooper—thanks for all of your hard work and enthusiasm as well. We are so grateful to the whole HarperCollins team.

We are eternally grateful for the help of dozens of generous and forgiving academics and scientists. They explained in painstaking detail how the human mind works, cognitively, biologically, genetically, and philosophically. They graciously managed to contain any exasperation they may have felt about conducting crash courses in neuroscience and psychology. We sincerely hope we have done them justice. Laura-Ann Petitto was such an enthusiastic guide through her work and her lab at Gallaudet and gave us hours of her time detailing the frontiers of neuroscience. Steve Suomi and his monkeys feel like pals at this point. Adam Kepecs gave us a new appreciation for rats, and very generously read the chapters, and conducted extensive email seminars late into the evening, complete with scanned drawings, on the nature of confidence. Jay Lombard and Nancy Grden at Genomind were so generous not only to offer to test the genes of two worried and warriorlike writers, but then to also spend hours on the phone talking us through the results, and the rest of our science. Fernando Miranda, as always, has been a wonderful friend. Catherine Afarian and Emily Drabant Conley at 23andMe were equally kind in doing our tests at lightning speed, and then walking us through all of their fantastic data. Tom Jessell at Columbia University was a treat to meet—a mind-brain mogul whose enthusiasm is catching. And thanks, too, to Dr. Daniel Amen, whose book on gender brain differences is impossible to put down. Daphna Shohamy, Sarah Shomstein, Rebecca Elliott, and Frances Champagne, we so appreciate your insights on the latest in brain science.

We were lucky, too, to be helped by some of the best academic psychologists in the world. They took us through the complications of confidence and disabused us, with great patience, of many of our preconceptions. Our holistic understanding of this mysterious and powerful quality is also thanks to them. Richard Petty was the model of calm, fielding every question, and painstakingly distilling the many shades of confidence into a handy version that we could grasp. Cameron Anderson wowed us with his research on the power of confidence over competence. Zach Estes showed us that there is a gender gap, but that it is only in confidence not ability. Women can indeed park cars as well as men. Peggy McIntosh and Joyce Ehrlinger both always seemed genuinely happy to talk with us—again. Jenny Crocker, Carole Dweck, David Dunning, Victoria Brescoll, Brenda Major, Christy Glass, Kristin Neff, Nancy Delston, Ken DeMarree, Shelley Taylor, Suzanne Segerstrom, Nansook Park, and Barbara Tannenbaum were all thoughtful and thought-provoking instructors. Ryan Niemiec taught us the importance of values in our equation. And we are heartbroken that we won’t get to meet Chris Peterson. Our interview with him was so clarifying and interesting. His remarkable spirit was plain, even in a thirty-minute call.

Sharon Salzberg provided a peaceful and insightful interlude. The powerhouse women at Running Start, Susannah Wellford Shakow, Katie Shorey and Jessica Grounds (who has since gone on to try to get Hillary Clinton elected), thank you for your invaluable help. What an important mission Running Start has.

Monique Currie and Crystal Langhorne not only played amazing basketball and let Della shoot a few hoops, but they also offered an unusual look at the scale of the confidence gap, even in their imposing arena. Coaches Mike Thibault and Karen Kelser, thanks for your time and everything you do for women and girls. Michaela Bilotta, we will be ever grateful for your candor in sharing hair-raising anecdotes from Annapolis. You DO deserve everything. You earned it. Chrissellene Petropoulos, you made us laugh and appreciate the hazards of a life on a real stage. Eunice Mussa-Napolo, your story is one we will never forget.

We talked to quite a few public figures, women with busy lives and endless obligations, and yet who were eager to help all of us solve the confidence equation. Christine Lagarde, Senator Gillibrand, Secretary Chao, Valerie Jarrett, Linda Hudson, General Wright, Jane Wurwand, Clara Shih, Michelle Rhee—thank you. And a few special words of gratitude to Sheryl Sandberg, who years ago offered two relative strangers early enthusiasm, valuable direction, and a mandate to challenge our assumptions. She then very generously and rather unexpectedly read our almost-completed manuscript in the middle of her winter holidays, offering quite concrete and incredibly useful suggestions. How terrific it was to experience firsthand what we’d been told by the experts—that the truest support one woman can offer another isn’t necessarily comfort or commiseration, but rather the power of her attention, her thoughts, and her honesty. Thank you, Sheryl.

And to our friends who gave up their equally precious time and privacy and wisdom to help us with the project—Patti Solis Doyle, Tia Cudahy, Virginia Shore, Beth Wilkinson, and Pattie Sellers and Tanya Coke—you were candid, funny, and inspiring as you laid bare your horror stories. We could not have cracked that stubborn code without you, and the struggle would have been a lot less entertaining.

Elizabeth Spayd offered us critical vision and genuine passion about our project. We’re in your debt. And Marcia Kramer, you were a godsend in your enthusiasm for helping us get every detail just right.

John Boulin, Vivien Caetano, Jonathan Csapo, and Lizette Baghdadi all helped invaluably at various stages with research, copy-editing, transcribing, footnoting. Their level of commitment was a blessing, and their enthusiasm so welcome.

Our employers at the BBC and ABC have always supported our endeavors and we thank them for tolerating our temporary distraction from duty. Special thanks to Kate Farrell at BBC World News America who kept the news running flawlessly while we chased down confidence, and to Ben Sherwood at ABC who has been such a generous champion of our journalism/book writing fusion.

As is ever the case, the people forced to witness us working on this project at close range bore the brunt of our hunt for confidence. They endured our unpredictable schedules and unreliable parenting.

Katty counts her blessings every day that she has Awa M’Bow in her family—Awa’s kindness and generosity are an example to us all. Claire could not have written this without the rock-solid support of Janet Sanderson, who has become part of our clan, and whose big heart is an inspiration. Thank you. And Tara Mahoney, somehow you manage to keep the Shipman/Carneys on track and laughing at the same time. We are so grateful for your sunny skills.

Our kids put up with perpetually distracted mothers who were either locked in offices, lugging around computers and stacks of papers, or citing yet another annoying statistic for them. No, despite your constant refrain, we don’t love the book more than we love you. It’s not even close.

We want to thank them, deeply, for the inspiration they provide with almost every twitch. It’s an awe-inspiring window on confidence to watch Hugo’s visceral drive to challenge convention and authority, to perform and provoke, and then his readiness to shrug off what others might think. Thank you for your joy and your ingenuity and your hugs. I love watching you unfold into such a marvelous young adult, one who already has the plans and enthusiasm enough to furnish three lives at least. And to see Jude sway a whole class to appreciate his Scottish kilt, by sheer confidence of personality. We all love watching you operate. And to witness Felix stick, with such impressive determination, through the trials of life in a totally new culture, with little sunlight to ease the days, and come out in triumph. I miss you every day but am so happy to see you having fun. Maya’s self-assurance is in full, determined bloom, and we have little doubt the world will be a better place when she rules it. What I’ll do without her isn’t clear. We will all miss your company. And to our younger girls: Della, how searing it was to see that the world still does not look right from the point of view of a four-year-old, who lamented for more than two years, with voluble anguish, that she could never grow up to be, as a girl, her beloved Batman. You and your passions, Della, have taught me more than I ever knew there was to learn. I’m so grateful for you and your love. I wish I had half of your bravery and sense of adventure. The free world, as my friend Patti always reminds me, is waiting for you to grow up and run it. The summer Poppy first dyed her hair blue she was five, we have since gone through purple and green; you need a fairly robust sense of who you are to experiment with hair color in kindergarten. Even after all this research, I’m still not sure where you get it, but you are my confidence lodestar.