Becoming “The Woman in Deed”

As I mention in my memoir “The Woman in Deed: Road to IPO, Bridge Tables, and Beyond”—yes, mine is a Silicon Valley success story. But Silicon Valley success stories are never solo performances.

They need to be told more often and more honestly, not as hero narratives but with their entire cast. The valley has its own ethos: people who helped simply because helping felt right, who decades later say with internal pride, “I knew her when she was starting out.” Early employees who left because they felt I didn’t treat them fairly—while I felt they outgrew their roles—yet some remained quiet admirers from a distance. Board members, executives, and key employees who opened a door and walked away before I could thank them. Without any one of them, I would have no story to tell.

But today I want to talk about something more uncomfortable. My own journey as a woman.

Not to inspire you. Honestly, I’m not sure I can. But perhaps to provoke you, which might be more useful.

Here are the facts, plainly:

I was a woman in engineering in India when almost no women did it—yes.

I came to the US as a single woman in the mid 70s and built a career from scratch—yes.

I had a traditional Indian husband and argued constantly about housework—yes. (We resolved it by hiring home staff. Problem solved, move on.)

We took two companies public, his and hers, under the same roof—yes.

I never thought “I can’t do this because I’m a woman”—not once.

But here is the truth beneath those facts:

I didn’t overcome barriers. I didn’t see them.

I didn’t lean in. I stood upright.

I have no motivational formula to offer you, because I never needed one. And I’ve spent a long time puzzling over why that is. Why does my experience feel so different from what I observe in women around me, even accomplished ones, even ones my age who have every resource and freedom I have?

Here is what I’ve concluded after five decades of watching:

It’s not about ability. It’s not about opportunity. It’s not even about confidence.

It’s the fear of being vulnerable.

Think about this: Men propose marriage. Women wait to be asked. Men apply for jobs they’re underqualified for. Men ask for promotions they may not yet deserve. Men get turned down—constantly, repeatedly, sometimes humiliatingly—and they ask again.

Not because they are braver than you. Not because rejection hurts them less.

But because from the time they were boys, nobody taught them that rejection means stop. Every cultural signal they received said rejection means try again, try differently, try harder.

You received a different signal. Rejection, or even the possibility of it, meant don’t risk it. Stay safe. Wait to be chosen.

That is the only difference between us. Not intelligence. Not capability. Not opportunity.

Just that one learned reflex.

And here is the thing about learned reflexes: you can unlearn them. Not easily. Not without discomfort. But the discomfort of vulnerability is temporary. The discomfort of a life unlived is permanent.

I am not going to tell you that you can do anything. You already know that.

I am going to ask you something harder:

What would you do tomorrow if you knew rejection wasn’t the end of the story?

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16 responses

  1. Thank you for this post 🙏😊 – this is exactly what I needed to hear right now. Can I schedule a tea ☕️ or coffee ☕️ session for just chatting with you informally about a mission I know I must undertake, but I don’t really know how best to start? It is in the area of Women’s Health. Thanks much in advance!!! 🙏😊

  2. Vinita,
    Read your short excerpt above with interest.
    You mention the discomfort of life unlived is permanent.

    What makes a life “unlived” is different for each individual as is what makes a person whole.

    One does not have to climb a mountain for some the beauty of crossing the meadow is enrichment in itself.

    Vinay

    1. What I meant by “the discomfort of a life unlived” is :
      when we avoid something because we fear rejection, we never find out what might have been.
      The discomfort of trying is temporary.
      The discomfort of not trying stays with us much longer.
      If that makes sense.

  3. Vinita, you have revealed a real woman beneath the facade that society creates around successful women. Stories about how well they can compete with men in every sphere. And the competencies and traits of required for success in a world ruled by men and their ideas about how the world should be run. It is time for the ‘feminine’ way of being and thinking to rise and prevail. Caring, nurturing; not the ‘masculine’ way of commanding, dominating. If we want a better world.
    Warm regards for you Vinita

  4. You are awesome!

    I WILL publish a book of my own poetry , with paintings to accompany many of the poems! I WILL! I WILL !

  5. Vinita, I could be wrong but this is my impression. Since early childhood, you grew up with a mission: To prove to the world (and to yourself) that you could do anything that boys/men could do. That is why you were undeterred by failures and rejections.

    I think that most women don’t grow up with such a challenging mission. They simply take life as it comes, with all its successes and failures, and make the most of it. In any case, a failure or rejection is not the end of the story for most people–men or women. Some people try harder (as you mentioned). Others change their direction, pursue something else, and find the new pursuit equally satisfying and rewarding.

    When I ask a retired senior, a man or a woman, about their regrets in life, they never talk about any rejection in their career (unless it opened the doors to an even better opportunity).

  6. Vinita,
    I read your book from cover to cover and learned a lot about you and Naren(dra) that I did not know before. Even though I had met and socialized with you and Naren on multiple occasions, when you first started in Silicon valley. I always took pride in both of your successes in IT field as your fellow countrymate, who also came to this country with similar background and apprehensions. I also took pride in your success in duplicate bridge, in which I had courtside seat.

    Your posting about the extra challenges you faced as a woman brought to fore my early recollections on the subject. In my Engineering College in India, there were only 5 girl students out of total student population of 1,700. But it never occurred to anyone that on graduation, they will be discriminated in salary/promotions because of their gender. Only after graduating from here and working in real world I found out that women in engineering(professional) fields were systematically paid less than their mail counterpart, for the same work.

    So I believe that the environment we both studied under in India, prepared you mentally to believe that any thing men can do, you can do as well, if not better.

    1. What surprised me more was that an advanced nation like the US, had similar challenges wrt women. I am not a movement creator, but have accumulated many helpful observations. Some same but some different.

      Thank you, Harjinder. We remember yur wedding as well.

  7. I noticed a similar pattern over the years in a “class” I co-taught on preparing and submitting research papers for publication. All the students were well-trained post-docs and some were junior faculty; roughly 80% were women. Everyone submitted papers to journals, and as expected, most initial submissions were rejected, even after the group had collectively reviewed and commented on drafts. My colleague and I observed that the men would typically consider the journal reviewers’ comments, usually make the appropriate changes, and fairly quickly submit to another journal. Most of the women would not take those steps, but would “sit” with the rejection. We then instituted a new approach: a few weeks were considered sufficient time for anyone to “grieve” over their rejection. Everyone would then need to bring their rejected manuscript (with reviewer comments) to the group for suggestions as to how to go forward. My sense is that over the years, the women did better than the men, with many having successful and prestigious careers.

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