TED just released an important talk this month that features Reshma Saujani, the founder of Girls Who Code. In her talk, “Teach Girls Bravery, Not Perfection,” she calls out our culture for encouraging girls to be perfect while simultaneously instructing boys to be brave.
Saujani cites an experiment conducted by Carol Dweck in the 1980s. Dweck observed the response of bright fifth grade students to a problem that was intended to be too difficult for them. The girls with the highest IQ scores were most likely to abandon the task when they inevitably couldn’t solve it.
The worst part? The boys who were given the same challenge — and were also incapable solving the problem — “found it energizing…[and] were more likely to redouble their efforts,” according to Saujani.
Fifth grade girls consistently outperform their male classmates in all subjects, she explains; so why do they give up?
She believes that girls are taught to seek perfection when boys are encouraged to be brave. This “bravery deficit” explains why girls who give up in fifth grade classrooms grow up to be the women who only apply for a job where they meet 100 percent of the requirements — juxtaposed with men applying when they only meet 60 – and eventually accept positions that “they know they're going to be perfect in.”
I had a very strong emotional response to Saujani’s 12-minute talk. It wasn’t until recently — thanks to a professor who told me I was "cautious" often enough to make me angry — that I realized just how limited I have been due to this fear of imperfection. How often are we told that it took Thomas Edison thousands of attempts to perfect his lightbulb? How many times do we discuss the adversity that men have valiantly struggled against and eventually overcome?
The more important question: how often are girls and women alike given the same motivational direction through the vessel of female figures? Even though I was actively taught that Edison struggled and finally succeeded, I was passively reminded that I — as a female — wasn’t like him. Womens' struggles are generally summarized by dropping buzzwords like “suffragists” and phrases such as “women in the workforce.” But as a young woman studying history every single day, what the hell does that actually mean?
Women are a sideshow in history, even in 2016. There’s absolutely no shortage of females who have struggled arguably more so than Edison — who had the luck to be born as a white male — and achieved great things. However, we don’t spend enough time educating young girls about their foremothers.
A great example of the way history remembers women is to briefly examine the duo of Franklin Delano and Eleanor Roosevelt. It’s generally taboo to criticize a president, but FDR seems to hold a particularly prized place in recent memory. We as a country like to ignore his flaws (infidelity and snubbing Jesse Owens after the stellar 1936 Olympics are just two examples) while celebrating the spirit of hope that he lent to America in the wake of financial devastation and during World War Two. Our treatment of Eleanor is also imbalanced. All too often, she’s remembered as being homely, but capable of phrasing some nice quotes to put on buttons and magnets. However, she had a highly successful radio career that began in 1932 and lasted into the 1950s where she was one of the highest-paid radio personalities of the time. I will not ignore the great things that FDR did for America in a serious time of need; however, as a woman that admires the strength that Eleanor showed during a time of cultural transition, I cannot sit still when we ignore her larger and more serious impact on American life.
History has always glossed over women, stopping only to recount deeds that can’t be ignored — and generally only then examining the damning ones. What we celebrate in men — such as sexual prowess, militaristic bravery and a fearless approach to life — we condemn women for dreaming of. When young girls sit in class and listen to stories of men doing great and challenging things, even when they fail, they also hear the silence where the successes and failures of women should be taught.
If we structure our lessons about women in the same way that we summarize the lives of men, young girls would grow up with a deep understanding of and appreciation for the tumultuous adventure of life; they wouldn’t be subliminally taught to pursue a safe path — or criticized for being bossy and arrogant when they oppose this structure — and would instead be aware of their ability to try, just like the boys sitting next to them.
Saujani explains that “we have to teach [girls] to be brave in schools and early in their careers, when it has the most potential to impact their livesand the lives of others, and we have to show them that they will be loved and accepted not for being perfectbut for being courageous.
When girls and women act according to the intrinsic awareness that their failures are steps to growth and eventual success and not outcomes that negate their worth, the entire world will benefit. The only thing that has been holding women back from immense success is the archaic idea that they don’t deserve the valuable experience of being wrong; girls are taught to punish themselves for being imperfect, thus creating a cycle of self-sustaining disappointment. When girls are taught that they too deserve to be brave and fearless, they will be liberated from the stifling fear of imperfection that has haunted them for centuries. Only when we educate our girls to persevere with the same tenacity as our boys will we truly reap the rewards of a powerful and liberated population that has been restrained for far too long.
