Late last year I ended an almost six-year stint as a public- and policy-facing CEO in London to move to the countryside and work part-time. Prior to that, I’d spent three decades rising up the ranks in the media and university leadership. It has taken a clean break from the boardroom to clear the mental clutter. One bizarre realisation that has bubbled up is that I haven’t seen my natural hair colour in 40 years.
Like so many of my female contemporaries who began work in the 1970s and 80s, I found it necessary to conceal some personal characteristics and perform others to achieve seniority, then maintain it. This reminds me of a boss I once worked for and admired. On “dress down Fridays”, this powerful, experienced manager rocked up in an impeccable denim two-piece with shoulder pads and a silk business-dress shirt. In the same way, for decades I’ve masked parts of who I really am at work – how I look, sound and naturally act.
