I’ve found that fears in the workplace are most often related to a desire for comfort and control – fears of failing, fears of public speaking, fears of disappointing teammates, fears of career stagnation, fears of perception, fears of starting over, fears of losing our grasp.
We all have a natural inclination to fall into patterns of behavior and steer clear of deviation. Knowing what to expect and when to expect it is comforting – it’s human. But comforting as it may be, it is one of the factors holding women back.
Volatility and uncertainty in the world around us do no favors in helping us confront our fears or release control. A 2022 WellSeek report on the state of women’s mental health revealed the link between career growth and workplace culture.
“Without supportive work environments, women are less able to feel safe and valued in their daily lives,” according to the report. “While studies have shown that women experience more self-doubt and lower confidence in the workplace, it’s imperative to examine how work cultures actually play into those insecurities.”
Our fears alone are not holding us back – it is also the systems and cultures that perpetuate them. According to a Fears and Phobias at Work study by LiveCareer, 81 percent of respondents confess that their fears and phobias have adversely affected their job, impacting their ability to thrive.
It’s no wonder a 2023 PwC Workplace Hopes and Fears study found that only 35 percent of respondents say their manager tolerates small-scale failures, while just 33 percent say their manager encourages dissent and debate.
If there is little room to be human, make mistakes, or hold a dissenting discussion, workplace leaders ought not to be surprised that a lack of psychological safety breeds fear.
Individual leaders and institutions are accountable for creating a culture where each has space to take interpersonal risks, speak up, disagree openly, and surface concerns without fear.
That being said, the ability to confront our personal fears is more subjective. While we may not control how leaders and institutions handle company culture, we can control what goes on inside of us, the actions we chose to take, and the fears we confront.
Each time workplace fear grasps me, I reflect on a lesson I learned when I was just 14 years old.
A group of families and friends where I grew up headed out for our annual trip to a tiny island called Yap, in Micronesia. Yap is a place lost in time and remains largely untouched by the woes of the Western world. Every year, we would end our trip with a crab boil. The preparation always sent me into a fear-induced spiral. Like many island nations, Yap works on a system of mutuality – everyone plays a part – and everyone benefits.
A group of us teens were annually assigned the task of catching the crabs for dinner – no nets, no cages, no fish market – just our bare hands. For years I’d gotten away with abdicating my crab-catching to someone else. Instead, I’d steal away with the younger kids to babysit and build sandcastles.
The instructions were simple enough: “Follow the sun.” We were to locate the sun’s direction in the sky, scour the shores for holes wide enough to fit a fist in, and simply reach in and grab a crab. The idea is that crabs face the sun, so we were assured that the crab (and their claws!) would be facing away from us as we snatched them from their homes. Our local guides did all they could to assuage our fears and help us feel safe and informed. I remained unwilling to take that leap.
I recall one of the local boys “encouraging” me over several days to finally participate, his tone at times sympathetic, at others accusatory. When he found me sneaking off to build sandcastles, he said, “Come join us! You must learn this skill, not play in the sand. Sandcastles wash away.”
It was a lesson I wouldn’t soon forget. There is an expression that espouses you should “eat the frog” each morning – meaning we should do the most unpleasant and perhaps fear-inducing thing first. Rather than devouring amphibians, I prefer the vernacular of reminding myself to face the fear of sticking my fist down those crab holes in my work and life.
Ironically, the first time I remember applying that adage was when I fearfully submitted my first major article for publication. It was the morning after I watched the confirmation hearings for then-judge Ketanji Brown Jackson with my daughter. I was so incensed by the treatment received by another Black woman – and in front of my daughter – that I woke at 3am, wrote a blistering opinion piece, and pitched it that day.
It was the first time I had stepped out of the comfort of anonymity to share my truth publicly, and I had little expectation of any editor reading my impassioned words, let alone accepting the piece for publication. It was accepted within hours and published within days. Just two months later, I would do the same and fearfully write a scathing opinion piece regarding the overturn of Roe v. Wade.
As a Black woman working in corporate America, I’ve always held fears related to speaking truth to power, even my truth. I am scrutinized for every move I make – good or otherwise. My fear stemmed from how it might affect my career if colleagues viewed me differently, whether or not my company leaders would accept my voice, and so on.
Women’s fears – my fears – are not simply in our heads. Myriad data back them up: nearly half of women (41.9 percent) fear taking time off of work out of concern for colleague reactions. Recent data shows the rate at which women are hired into senior leadership roles has fallen to 32 percent. Despite making up at least 7 percent of the workforce, Black women are severely underrepresented in leadership positions; and nearly 40 percent of Black women have left a job because they feel unsafe.
Today, I continue to speak truth to power – to provoke and instigate needed change for those who look like me – and, truthfully, those who don’t. It’s not always popular, and I still worry about how I am perceived, even in my workplace.
The reception is often divergent – some proponents, some opponents. The fear is not gone, but its hold on me and its dictation of my actions is no longer prohibitive. After all, if we can find the courage and stick our fists down the crab hole, our fears, like sandcastles, are meant to wash away.
Amira Barger an executive vice president at a global communications firm, providing diversity, equity and inclusion counsel to clients. She is also an adjunct professor of marketing and communications at Cal State East Bay. Views are the author’s own.
