When I interviewed at a certain ‘OG’ startup, I had to take a day off to go through the 4.5-hour interview process. After the interview, I was close to catatonic, but when the recruiter offered to take me on a tour of my potential office floor, I jumped at the opportunity. As she walked me through the floor, every stereotype you’ve heard of from other blogs were there: mountains of La Croix, foosball tables, and an open floor plan because it “increases productivity.”

I asked the recruiter, “Where are all the girls?” She gave me some unmemorable, shallow answer, but I was thoroughly enamored by the idea of working for that startup so I didn’t care.

During my first week on the job, it felt pretty cool being one of the “8” women on the IT floor. It was intimidating, but damn empowering. I really thought I had done something.

By month three, I figured out why there were only eight women. The oppression and exclusivity were intentional. Every day I walked in those doors, wondering which idea of mine would get shut down, how many eyes would roll in a meeting when I made a suggestion, and which coworker would call me a career-obsessed bitch behind my back.

After a year at that job, I was promoted to team lead, and again, I really thought I had done something. A few weeks later, two other male members were promoted to the same lead position, and since they had been in the company longer, my new title was essentially useless. I didn’t question whether they deserved the promotion or not, I just wondered about the timing, so I asked my boss. His professional answer was something along the lines of leadership feeling it wasn’t fair for other members not to also get the title, and to not to take it personally. He then went on about emotional intelligence and letting my work speak for itself.

I quit that job four months later.

At my third IT job, I really thought I had achieved something. Until one day, I was shadowing two IT technicians on contract. They were both in their mid-forties, but one of them just happened to be Filipino. I was watching him image a Windows machine and asked questions about the process. Within 10 minutes, he asked me if I was Filipino. I replied with a monotone “yes” but with undertones of “let’s not go there, buddy.” Then he hit me with the million-dollar question, “Why aren’t you a nurse?” I stared at him. My ears started ringing, and all I heard was, “Why aren’t you in healthcare? It’s more money, and there’s more of you there.”

Nurse. Money. More of you there.

I produced some canned answer and moved on, left the room, and sat at my desk. Twenty-four years on this earth, and I was reduced to another stereotype. After a few weeks, he approached me and asked if I could advocate on his behalf for a contract extension. I said I’d do what I could, but I decided to go in a different direction. That different direction led to an intern becoming a full-time employee at that company.

Those two instances were mild compared to other vile stories of misogyny, favoritism, and racism, but I’m going to let you know right now that it’s going to continue to be an uphill battle for women who stay in tech. Back in the year 2020, 500 HR leaders reported that half of women who work in tech leave by the age of 35 due to burnout and gender inequality.

I’m 31 years old, and while I can’t speak for other women, I can tell you that what’s kept me motivated is spite. Pure, unadulterated spite.

In the decade that I’ve been in the tech industry, I’ve learned a few things. Being a woman in a male-dominated field can really rub people the wrong way, regardless of whether or not they’re in the industry. The only thing you can control is how you navigate yourself in this culture. You can choose to let it poison everything you’ve earned, or let it become the catalyst for your own success.

If you want to get ahead in your career, you will be seen as unusually aggressive, while your male counterparts who act the exact same way won’t be perceived in the same manner. There’s a difference between being a jerk and being assertive, and the difference lies in that person’s ego. Don’t let your ego dictate who you are at work.

Letting your work speak for itself can only go so far. Speak up for yourself.

I let spite motivate my desire to succeed because toxic work culture is a mind-numbing experience, and I refuse to let corporate politics determine my work ethic. IT management is still management, and their main goal is the business; the business needs to make money. Finally, I choose to believe that the employees who show up to contribute something positive are what defines the culture, not the toxic ones. The trash eventually takes itself out.

For those who want to leave the industry because they feel their work can be more impactful elsewhere, and if it improves your mental health, then more power to you. But if you’re wondering if you’re strong enough to handle misogyny in the workplace and the gender pay gap, all while empowering a software company to make its next billion dollars, remember that you’re only as small as you let yourself be. That may sound generic and preachy, but I really mean it. Your job isn’t your whole personality; there are many facets to a person. This is a gentle reminder that software is only as good as its creator(s).