5 Ways Working Fathers Can Help Working Mothers

In my work supporting mothers as they navigate their careers and rise as leaders, there are often moments I look around the room at all of the female faces in the workshops, the conferences, the policy discussions and think—we’re talking to ourselves.

If we’re going to make any progress in clearing paths for women to rise into senior roles, we must include our male counterparts in the conversations.

Here are some simple ways working fathers can take an active role toward supporting gender equity in the workplace.

1. Talk about your kids at work
Parenting and the work that goes into it often feels like a taboo subject that must be hidden. When you talk about your children and your experience of being a parent with colleagues, it normalizes the conversation. Read more about this in my post, Here’s Why I Talk About My Kids At Work.

2. Take your leave!
When dads take the parental leave they’re offered, everybody wins. According to NBC News, "Fathers get to bond with their new baby, there’s a decreased risk of mom getting postpartum depression and it shifts the perception that caregiving is a female’s responsibility." Even with these positive outcomes, fathers are often hesitant to take the leave for fear that there will be a potential stigma or other negative impact on their career trajectory. By taking the leave, you not only support your partner at home, but you also show other fathers that it is possible to drive your career forward AND spend time at home with your baby.

3. Align on responsibilities at home
The mental load struggle for working mothers is real. In addition to their careers, women are taking on the lion’s share of parenting and household infrastructure tasks that happen seamlessly often without their partner noticing. I call it, "the third job." Clothes and supplies appear in the house and then disappear when they are no longer needed. Caregivers are managed. School forms are found and submitted. And the list goes on. Working fathers can check in with partners on the distribution of responsibilities to help even the load. And working mothers can release control of tasks and perfectionist approaches to managing said tasks. When household tasks are more evenly distributed, women have greater mental bandwidth, belief in their abilities to rise to senior levels AND be the mothers they want to be.

4. Create cultures of flexibility on your teams
Flexibility means different things to different people. If you are a working father and lead a team, create an open dialogue about what flexibility means to you and to the colleagues you lead. It is possible to both expect excellent work AND respect boundaries around flexibility and prioritization of family life. Both of these things can be true, and the formula will be different for each individual.

5. Mentor and sponsor women
Of course this is not relegated to working parents, but in general, given the number of men vs. women in senior roles—the mentorship and sponsorship of women by men is a critical step on the path toward gender equity. Senior women, already in a bandwidth crunch, often find themselves stretched even thinner when they try to bridge this gap for a multitude of mid-level women. This is an ideal place for male allies to step in, share possibilities and opportunities with their female colleagues—and make the case to broader audiences to support their growth.

While these approaches to allyship appear simple in theory—they absolutely take practice and an openness to stepping into some vulnerable terrain. If you’re used to compartmentalizing career and family life, it may be uncomfortable to share stories about your kids or perhaps lessons you learned while parenting that apply to your leadership style. If you feel there may be some resentment from your partner about an uneven distribution of household responsibilities, it will take courage to bridge those conversations with empathy and an open mind about how things can shift in the future. That said, if you’re reading this, you’re already committed to taking action and I appreciate you being here. Please choose one of these options as a way to continue on your path, then find someone to hold you accountable and share your results with others.

When You Know You Found The Right People

Last week I shared a professional moment of failure in Imperfect People (Like Me) Make Mistakes. I made a human, scheduling mistake by adding an important workshop on the wrong day of my Google calendar. I then forced myself to snap out of my shame spiral—figuring out a way to get there with enough time in order to make it a meaningful experience for people.

In that piece, I focused on how I responded to my mistake and who I stepped up to be. But what has been lingering from this experience and is no doubt one of the most significant factors in my moving through it, was how my people showed up for me in that moment.

Mid-failure, I called my friend and colleague on my walk to the subway and she jumped into action on my behalf. She Googled my fastest route and mode of transport—WHILE giving me a pep talk.

Then, two minutes into my subway ride, another close friend simply appeared on my train car. It felt like a gift from the universe. She reminded me that I know my content, this is what I do best—and I will just do it.

After I was home, I called my colleague and mentor with whom I was collaborating on this project. I love working with her company, so I worried about her reaction. Without missing a beat she said, "You showed them what leadership looks like."

Wow, right back at you, friend. In hearing these words I realized, I have truly found the right team. The people who have my back, support me, believe in me, push me beyond what I even know I’m capable of…and also know I’m human and that I make mistakes. Gratitude replaced the shame of my failure and I began to feel whole again.

My favorite reaction, though, was from my husband. When I texted him what had happened that evening as I safely sat back on my couch, in comfy clothes, he texted me this image.

First laugh of the day! Twelve years ago, we had tickets to see Genesis with friends. Our friends texted us one evening while we were at home eating takeout. "Where are you guys? The show is about to start!"

We figured out that my husband put the show on our calendar for the wrong day. With one image he was able to say, "You’re not alone." And make me smile all at once.

Imperfect People (Like Me) Make Mistakes

I am a woman, a coach and a writer, preaching the gospel of compassion for thyself. And yet, as an entrepreneur in the client service business, I secretly hold myself to a higher standard. Especially when it comes to time and reliability.

I confirm all appointments a day or two in advance.

I arrive early, even when it’s uncool.

I’m the one at the party cutting the lemons and limes as the other guests file in.

I live and breathe by my Google calendar/s.

And in my less gracious moments, I’m the rigid one laying into my inner circle people for lateness and last-minute cancellations. You know who you are, and this piece is one part empathetic ode to you.

It’s within this stranglehold on perfectionist professionalism that I found myself in a failure of my own doing.

After two full days of onsite coaching for a corporate client, I was at home, in shorts and a t-shirt, resting and refueling, preparing for a corporate workshop the next day. All of the workshop materials had been sent more than a week in advance. I had time for a couple of calls and a walk in the park. Time to visualize and organize my thoughts, and to get a manicure to make sure I was polished for my topic of Personal Branding.

I was about to join a video call when my phone rang. It was the client. The workshop was not the next day, but that very day—beginning in 30 minutes. And it was nearly an hour away from my home.

I was in shock. Stunned. I could barely form a sentence. It had been on my calendar for the following day for months. I was sure of it. But I didn’t have time to backtrack on emails. And I had a sneaking suspicion it was my mistake. I wanted to vomit or just say I couldn’t do it.

But instead, I put on a dress, some heels, ignored my chipped nails, grabbed my makeup bag for the subway ride, apologized from my deepest depths and said, "I’ll be there in an hour."

I texted the client to get everyone started on the worksheets during my subway ride, offered an additional webinar or extra session to make up for what I knew was my fault. And I made it. 36 minutes late—but with a self-pep talk in the elevator and a joke to state the obvious in my intro—I jumped right in.

That phone call will surely replace my, "showing up for final exams after missing half the year of Spanish class" track, as the new number one spot on my stress dreams playlist. There’s no getting around it. It was bad: truly my worst professional mistake to date.

The shame ran deep. Mostly because I made this blunder around a value I hold dear: Integrity. In talking myself through it over the past weeks, looking for the lesson and most importantly—forgiving—I recalled the things I often say to clients when they are reminded of their imperfections.

"You are doing your best. You’re human. As much as you hate to admit it, you too make stupid mistakes. It’s how you show up after the mistakes that make you who you are."

And what pulled me from my shame is how in the face of that moment, I rose to be who I know I am. A woman with both integrity and flaws, with expectations of excellence and compassion for myself. And most of all, human.

When To Put An Experiment To Bed

For the past few months, I’ve been working on an experiment: a new networking membership that would supplement my corporate workshops and 1:1 coaching.

I fell in love with the idea. The name. The impact it could have on women’s lives.

And I did as I tend to do. I talked about it with my people. I inspired them to believe in its importance. And they cheered me on, as they always do.

Then, without warning, I felt stuck. I chose to file my papers, label my expenses, log my coaching hours—anything to avoid moving forward on my membership.

I judged myself for:

Allowing fear to paralyze me.

Letting my people down.

Being the kind of person who gets stuck.

I skipped my weekly writing time one week because I knew this would be the only post I could write. My writing is my joy, my escape and the place I find my answers. Denying myself that time was a wake up call. I knew I had to put the weapons down.

I gave myself permission to pause and received it like a gift.

Relief and renewed trust in my intuition washed over me.

In quiet, compassionate non-judgment, I looked at the membership with new eyes. It wasn’t fear holding me back.

I was energized by the mission, but not the work—and this is a critical element in a career of my design. This is why I commit to experimenting—to see if the work is energizing and worth pursuing.

This time, in this moment, it wasn’t. It isn’t. And that’s part of the process. The membership is one of hundreds of ways I can fulfill my mission of getting more women into positions of power. My commitment is to the mission, not to the specific tactics that get me there. I know for the work to be top quality and make the broadest possible impact, it must be something that taps into my unique gifts—driven by my curiosity and energy.

I often talk to my clients about something I call The Inspired No. It’s a strategy to say No to a friend, colleague or potential partner so that you authentically acknowledge the exciting work he or she is doing AND offer a “no for now.” That’s the perspective I’m bringing to my membership and everyone I enrolled in moving forward with me on it. I know it’s not right for me, right now. I feel sure of this. And I’m leaving the door wide open to potentially discover a way for it to energize me somewhere down the line.

One humbling lesson I’m learning one more time is that I will always be the kind of person to get stuck. Because I’m a person and it’s in our DNA. But it’s how I respond to my stuckness that reminds me of the choices I continue to make. I am learning in the face of mistakes, building my resilience muscles and using these moments as points of connection with the flawed and beautiful humans I serve.