When I first began making the rounds on the amateur podcast circuit as “Money with Katie,” I heard the same question posed with almost comic repetition:

“Why do you think women lack financial confidence?” 

Oh, gee, Eric, I don’t know—maybe because we’ve been told our entire lives that we’re bad at math and our male parent or partner should handle it for us?

I kid, I kid. (But not really.) Women asked me this question, too, and if I’m being honest, I’ve probably asked it of others, accepting the question’s basic premise (that women lack confidence) as an inescapable fact. That if we could just get these insecure ladies to girlboss up and lean in, a lot of these imagined barriers would evaporate.

We see this type of language everywhere: 

• Women aren’t confident investors (I’ve even covered this one myself, regrettably)

• Women aren’t negotiating well enough (or “enough” in general)

• If women were more confident in the workplace, they’d shrink the wage and the wealth gap 

Basically, it’s your fault, Carol. 

There’s just one problem with this accounting of the problem: The underlying premise is a second-order effect, rather than a cause.

We’re talking about the way we—as a society—conceptualize women, their ~problems~ in the workplace, and stunted wealth-building as consequences of personal esteem and performative self-regard, rather than issues with the way we collectively perceive and socialize women.

It’s a convenient explanation, to be sure; “just teach women to negotiate” or “tell women to simply be more confident with their money” feels like a sensible, tangible solution. 

The myth of the passive woman

“Confidence” as the solution for the gender-based disparity in outcomes places the responsibility squarely on the shoulders of the disadvantaged group (in this case, women). 

I know, I know. I can feel some of you rolling your eyes. The modern woman of today has a lot less to complain about than, say, the (white) woman of a hundred years ago in 1922 when we had just been granted the right to vote. 

And while we’ve definitely come a long way, to suggest we’ve achieved total equality now (even 100 years later) would be a farce. Women still earn less and own less than their male counterparts—and if popular financial advice is to be believed, it’s because women just aren’t confident enough to “get theirs!” 

But the idea that “women are underpaid simply because they aren’t negotiating as hard as men” has been repeatedly refuted in the data; this 2014 study found that when job postings stated wages were negotiable, there was no observable difference between men and women’s likelihood to negotiate. And this Harvard Business Review piece from 2018 explores research that finds women are just as likely to ask for a raise as men are, but less likely to receive one, on average. 

Artz, Goodall, and Oswald report: “Even we were surprised by the results. We had expected to find less asking by the females. Instead, we found that, holding background factors constant, women ask for a raise just as often as men, but men are more likely to be successful. Women who asked obtained a raise 15% of the time, while men obtained a pay increase 20% of the time. While that may sound like a modest difference, over a lifetime it really adds up.” 

Now, unless you’re a card-carrying misogynist, which explanation for this phenomenon sounds more reasonable? 

1. Men on the aggregate level are just 33% better at their jobs than women.

2. The 33% difference in outcomes can be attributed to a subconscious but pernicious belief in (a). 

Negotiating. Investing. #GRINDING. Women just lack confidence, you know? Girl, stop apologizing!

Sigh.

Now, I don’t dispute that women may actually self-report lower levels of personal confidence than men—I’d just argue that there’s a readily available explanation for that, and it’s not some innate feminine lack of belief in oneself.

Impostor syndrome is learned

Could it be that decades of systemic exclusion and bias have subtly trained women that their contributions are less valuable? As Ruchika Tulshyan and Jodi-Ann Burey write, we need to “fix bias, not women.” 

Because even if women were the problem, the advice to be more assertive at work doesn’t work for women the way it works for men. Four different studies from Harvard and Carnegie Mellon found that people “penalized women more than men for attempting to negotiate for higher compensation.” 

It didn’t matter whether the negotiation was in-person or on video or on paper; whether they were the hiring manager themselves or a third-party, objective viewer. Even women viewed the women who asked for more money less favorably. 

Female exceptionalism is not a solution

Sheryl Sandberg writes in Lean In, “Men have an easier time finding the mentors and sponsors who are invaluable for career progression. Plus, women have to prove themselves to a far greater extent than men do. And this is not just in our heads. A 2011 McKinsey report noted that men are promoted based on potential while women are promoted based on past accomplishments.” Cool. So we’re acknowledging that women aren’t the problem! I’m glad you agree, Sheryl.

Then, just a few paragraphs later, she takes all-but-full responsibility for it: “Throughout my life, I was told over and over about inequalities in the workplace and how hard it would be to have a career and family. I rarely heard anything, however, about the ways I might hold myself back.” 

Facepalm. It’s a very bootstrap-y approach to bias: “Just be so likable, confident, and charismatic—so good at your job—that they’ll have no choice but to pay you equally!” 

The question we fail to ask when we assume all the personal responsibility for our outcomes is, “Should I have to work 20% harder than the guy sitting in the cubicle next to mine to be paid the same amount?” 

Sure, you can do that—that might be a solution. And hey, maybe after a few decades of this collective overperformance, women and men will be regarded with the same level of externally bestowed confidence.

But is that really where we want this story to end? Doing more than half the work for less than half the pie and calling it progress? 

Emily Wilding Davison didn’t throw herself under King George V’s racehorse 100 years ago at the Epsom Derby for the right to vote just so we could plan all the office birthday parties and overcompensate for our undercompensation.

Pushing back on crusty old narratives

One of the most pernicious aspects of bias is that you can hold implicit biases against a group you’re part of. 

(Remember 5 minutes ago when we noted that the studies found that even women found other women more unlikeable when they asked for more money?)

The only way to change norms is to push on them—even if it’s uncomfortable. Especially if it’s uncomfortable. I’d wager most of the cognitive dissonance you’ll experience won’t stem from confronting others, but will crop up when you notice your own biases—a process that happens naturally as you become more attuned to subtly sexist language (e.g., a man is more likely to be called “direct” or “assertive,” while a woman behaving in exactly the same way is more likely to be classified as “bitchy” or “aggressive”).

There are respectful, productive tactics for pushing back on undesired norms. I learned in an unconscious bias course a few years ago that one great way is to simply ask someone to elaborate. “It’s interesting you say Susan is aggressive; what makes you say that? She seems really direct to me, which is a quality I know we value on this team.” 

And if you find that you’re being held back by a culture that’s simply too entrenched to change, sometimes it’s better to cut and run sooner rather than later—working for a company that walks the talk can make all the difference.

Moreover, if you identify with a “learned sense of helplessness” or a “learned lack of confidence,” you know what they say: Knowledge is power. If you’re reading this blog, it means you probably know more about personal finance than you think. With more education comes more (rightfully deserved!) confidence and self-assuredness that can help counterbalance all those times in middle school when someone told you that you “weren’t very good at math.”

I don’t want my future daughter to live in a world where she has to work twice as hard to get half as far.