Once Upon a Time

Many years ago on a beautiful fall morning I was walking with a group of my colleagues to the courthouse when a male partner, completely out of the blue, said to me: “You know, I really can’t stand the sound of your voice.” Even though I’m well known for my frequent use of profanity, I couldn’t even get out a “f*ck you.” Instead I just kept walking and made some joke about how he probably didn’t like my Southern ancestry.

But his demeaning remark bugged me. Like many of you, I’ve never been fond of the sound of my own voice. I moved frequently as a kid and have called over twelve places “home” so, contrary to the response I gave that male partner, my voice doesn’t have a familiar geographic accent. And, while I’m no Elizabeth Holmes, my voice is not as high as many women’s voices, so it doesn’t fit comfortably in any stereotypically gendered place. That being said, until that morning I hadn’t dwelled on my voice excessively because I assumed that most people—men or women—didn’t like the sound of their own voice and, even if I had wished mine were different, there wasn’t much I could do to change it.

Women’s Voices

Now, of course, I know a lot more about what is thought about women’s voices. Women’s typically higher pitched voices are assumed to be weaker, less trustworthy, and less authoritative. Perhaps partially as a result, we (even the female justices on the Supreme Court) are interrupted more often than men. Ironically, in the double-standard world in which all women live, higher pitched voices are also assumed to be more attractive.

As women, we’ve internalized many of these views. How many so-called women’s events have you attended where there was a speaker there to tell you how to talk less like a woman? Yet have you ever been to an event that taught men about to sound more like a woman? How about a speaker who merely sought to tell men how to listen to women? I doubt it.

And while I’m sure there are many good speaking coaches who can teach you how to be a more effective presenter, if someone includes a recommendation to stop raising your voice at the end of a sentence, I disregard everything else they have to say. Until men start going to conferences where they’re told how to candidly acknowledge doubt in their assertions or stop talking over women, I’m not listening to it.

Just Doing You

Given all of the above, I was excited to see Adam Grant’s recent article in the New York Times [paywall]. (Didn’t I tell you that you should follow him?) In the article, he discusses research that shows that when women ask for raises using “weak language” like “I might be off base, but . . .” or “Don’t you think?”, they are more likely to get them. Grant concludes that women got those raises because their so-called “weak language” is “a way to convey interpersonal sensitivity.”

While in many ways Grant’s is an empowering conclusion—because it doesn’t lead to telling women to change the way they talk—it’s also disheartening to read, yet again, that women are more appealing when they are less demanding. Grant’s article explains that, while women aren’t being penalized for being ambitious per se, “the problem arises if people perceive them to be forceful, controlling, commanding and outspoken.” To me this sounds like yet another way that the workplace expects us to be nice—and women don’t need that.

Here’s the deal. If you’re a woman, you will be criticized no matter what your voice sounds like. If you deepen your voice, you’ll be told you sound like a man. If you have a high-pitched voice, you might sound sexier, but you’ll also be told that you don’t sound authoritative or lack presence. As a woman, you’re far better off getting some unbiased feedback on your voice and speaking style from a woman, and then use your unique presentation to your advantage. But most importantly, stop yourself every time you hear yourself saying that you don’t like the sound of yours or another woman’s voice: let’s normalize vocal differences of all types, regardless of gender.

In my view you’ll be less likely to become schizophrenic just being yourself. If you don’t or can’t be comfortable doing that in the place you work, find a workplace that will support you just as it would a man.

… You know what I mean?

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