A few days ago I came across this post at KJ Bishop’s blog. The post is a meditation on how the nuances of a Proper Woman’s Upbringing makes us less likely to have the confidence needed in our own work to self-promote.

She talks about being brought up to be modest and helpful, and how that has translated (for her, and I suspect for many other women) into an aversion to putting one’s own work forward. Instead, many women wait to have their work volunteered by someone else.

She says:

…becoming a woman just isn’t as cool or empowering as becoming a man, because of the way we’ve constructed ‘man’ and ‘woman’. And in the first years of womanhood, just as you’re maturing, you’re also at your most desirable (at least in the current culture), and therefore your most vulnerable. When you should be becoming a person, you’re sweet sixteen and all too easily become principally a sex object, or a rejected sex object; either way, your subjectivity takes a hit. There’s so much media emphasis on women’s appearance, and so little on women’s accomplishments, that if that stuff gets in your head, your accomplishments can start to seem unimportant, even worthless.

She links to the post which inspired her thinking, a discussion by a male professor about the differences between the way his male and female students and colleagues present themselves and their work. He begins with a discussion on having the skills of a con artist–exaggerating your own skills and achievements to get ahead, then working hard to make sure you can fulfill the expectations that you make of yourself. A bit of a white lie that can be beneficial by giving you the chance to improve your skills and your situation. His theory is that men are more socialized not to care about public failure, and so they are more apt to take the risks necessary to achieve success.

They’re both really interesting reads, and got me thinking about my own hesitation when it comes to promoting myself. Clay Shirky’s article in particular hit a nerve.

In general, I’m terrified to give a higher rating of my skills than I believe they warrant, because I’m terrified of falling short of expectation. This shows itself in job searches, classrooms, writing conferences, you name it. I pass it off as modesty, but in reality it’s fear.

Example: Off and on I’ve tried to sell magazine stories. I constantly find myself blocked by the thought that I don’t know enough to write a piece, so when I read a magazine that I like and try to brainstorm ideas for pitches, I inevitably end up sighing and saying, I just don’t know enough about wine/Northern Idaho/bikes/the sprocket industry/etc.

Last year, however, I managed to put that aside for just a moment and sold a piece to ParentMap magazine about an ideal daytrip that’s both fun for your kids and relaxing for working mothers, despite the fact that I’m not a parent, nor do I have even the remotest idea what a 9-5 workweek is like.

I’ve been thinking a ton about all this lately, and these two posts are sparking mutinous thoughts in my lady-brain. So what if you don’t know anything about the topic? she whispers. That’s what research is for. That’s what interviews are for. So what if you’ve never sold a novel before? You’ve read the shit that’s out there–the only reason they got published was because they didn’t laugh away their talent whenever anyone asked them what they did for a living, or asked what their book was about.

Step one in the Jessie self-confidence makeover: Starting today I’m going to introduce myself as a writer, because, hey, that’s what I do.