Beat Gender Bias

Why is it that when a man takes charge, he’s called a leader—but when a woman does the same, she’s called bossy? In The Gender Bias: The Hidden Barriers to Women’s Success, pioneering fire chief and psychologist Sabrina Cohen-Hatton explores this question by uncovering the invisible rules that shape who succeeds and who stumbles. Drawing from over two decades in the male-dominated firefighting world and grounded in rigorous psychological research, she argues that success for women is judged by a harsher, deeply gendered metric. What men are applauded for—ambition, confidence, risk-taking—is what women are punished for.

Cohen-Hatton’s central claim is simple but radical: the traits required for success are the same for men and women, but the world doesn’t treat them the same way. This book is not merely about sexism in the workplace; it’s about the psychology of gender itself—how norms, expectations, and cultural scripts reinforce a system where what’s considered “normal” for men becomes “unacceptable” for women. Each chapter dissects one crucial piece of that puzzle: risk-taking, occupational stereotypes, impression management, leadership, failure, modesty, prioritization, class, and public backlash.

The Firefighter’s View: From Fire Scenes to Boardrooms

Cohen-Hatton writes with both the authority of lived experience and the insight of a psychologist. Joining the fire service at 18, at a time when women made up barely one percent of firefighters, she quickly learned that gender bias wasn’t always overt—but it was everywhere. When she told people she was a firefighter, their first response was often disbelief or concern for her safety rather than admiration. Yet when her husband introduced himself the same way, people’s reactions were filled with reverence. This everyday disparity became a laboratory for exploring how people link risk, courage, and leadership to masculinity—and how women pay the price for defying that script.

Gender as a Social Blueprint

Throughout the book, Cohen-Hatton emphasizes that gender is not about biology but about social construction. Citing the World Health Organization’s definition, she explains that gender norms—beliefs about what men and women should be—are learned, repeated, and policed across every domain of life: at home, school, media, and work. These learned expectations become biases that influence behavior and judgments. When someone violates the unspoken rules—for instance, when a woman shows leadership or ambition—society responds with discomfort, subtle rejection, or outright hostility.

Why Every “Drop of Water” Matters

The preface provides one of the book’s most powerful metaphors. Gender bias, Cohen-Hatton says, isn’t one big event—it’s a series of small “droplets” of unequal treatment that accumulate into a relentless current. Each instance—someone addressing a man instead of her in a meeting, or assuming she’s there to take notes—might seem trivial on its own, but together they create a flood of disadvantage. What’s most dangerous, she argues, is that women internalize these micro-biases as personal failings rather than systemic design. They think, “It’s just me,” when in fact the river runs through every woman’s experience.

The Psychology of Double Standards

To move beyond anecdotes, Cohen-Hatton uses dozens of psychological studies that expose the hidden double standards. When people read identical performance reviews—one allegedly written by a man, one by a woman—they rated the same report as less accurate and more abrasive when they believed it came from a woman. Other research shows that women deemed “competent” are often simultaneously judged as “less likable,” while the reverse is true for men. This likeability penalty, known as the backlash effect, means women must constantly navigate an impossible tightrope: be assertive enough to succeed, but not so assertive that people resent you for it.

From Risk to Recognition

Across its nine main chapters, the book unfolds like a map of gendered landmines. Chapter 1 explores why men are celebrated for risk-taking while women who take similar risks are seen as reckless or even selfish—especially mothers, who are expected to put everyone else’s safety first. Chapter 2 dives into stereotypes that still label certain professions “jobs for the boys,” and the backlash women face when they enter male domains. Chapter 3 looks at the art (and burden) of impression management—how women must constantly calibrate how they speak, dress, and even write emails to seem capable but not cold. Later, she examines leadership stereotypes, why female failure is punished more harshly, why modesty has become an invisible shackle, and why women are expected to prioritize others before themselves.

Why It All Matters

Cohen-Hatton’s message is urgent because bias doesn’t just hurt individuals—it wastes potential. Imagine, she suggests, how much innovation we lose when half the population is taught to fear risk, self-promotion, or ambition. She acknowledges men also suffer from rigid gender scripts—those that demand stoicism and punishment for emotional honesty—reminding readers that to dismantle bias is to free everyone from narrow definitions of masculinity and femininity.

This sweeping and often intimate exploration of bias blends memoir, social psychology, and manifesto. It invites you to question how you interpret confidence, leadership, and failure—and to look at the hidden currents shaping your own judgments. Cohen-Hatton’s hope is both personal and collective: that by recognizing these patterns, we can begin to burn brighter—not as “well-behaved women,” but as disruptors who redefine success itself.

The opening chapter, ‘Risky Business,’ uses Cohen-Hatton’s own firefighting career to dismantle the myth that men are natural risk-takers while women are inherently cautious. She recalls a dinner party where the revelation that she was a firefighter elicited concern—‘Isn’t that dangerous?’—while her husband’s identical career provoked admiration. The simple difference in reaction captures a deeper bias: society applauds male bravery but questions female judgment.

Nature, Nurture, and Culture

Are women less willing to take risks because of biology, or because culture punishes them for doing so? Cohen-Hatton points to cross-cultural research to prove that risk-taking is learned, not innate. In China, girls from the matrilineal Mosuo tribe take more risks than boys, while girls from the patriarchal Han culture—educated alongside them—quickly grow cautious as they absorb mainstream gender norms. Similarly, studies in India and Tanzania show that Khasi women from a matrilineal society are as competitive as Maasai men, further proving that behavior adapts to expectations, not chromosomes.

The Fire Pole Experiment

Even from toddlerhood, parents condition this difference. In one study, both girls and boys could climb a playground fire pole equally well—but parents encouraged sons to be independent while warning daughters to “be careful.” By age three, risk appetite was being socially sculpted. The pattern continues into adulthood: women apply for jobs only when they meet 100% of the criteria, while men apply at 60%. The real problem isn’t capability—it’s social conditioning that equates female caution with virtue and risk with recklessness.

The Masculinity of Risk

Risk language itself is gendered. We tell nervous people to “man up” and avoid “having no balls.” Even psychological research once labeled risk-taking a “male attribution.” Cohen-Hatton contrasts public reactions to two mountain climbers to expose this double standard. When Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay conquered Everest, they were immortalized as heroes. But when Alison Hargreaves died climbing K2—after summiting Everest solo—the media called her “reckless,” questioning her morality for leaving children behind. Heroism, it seems, has a gender.

Power and Perception

Cohen-Hatton connects risk-taking to power and optimism. People in positions of power—most of them men—feel safer taking risks because their past success breeds confidence and buffers failure. Power amplifies optimism, while lack of power triggers inhibition. This “behavioral approach vs. inhibition” dynamic means women, who hold fewer powerful roles, become more cautious—not because they’re weaker, but because the stakes are higher. Fail, and you’re not just wrong—you’re evidence that women can’t lead.

Her solution is pragmatic: if society rewards men and punishes women for identical risks, we must change the reward system itself. That means celebrating risk-taking in women as a catalyst for innovation, not labeling it irresponsibility. Language matters—swap “be careful” with “try it and see.” For Cohen-Hatton, redefining bravery begins not in boardrooms or firehouses, but in the stories we tell our daughters: that fear isn’t failure, and risk isn’t masculine.

Cohen-Hatton’s chapter ‘Jobs for the Boys’ reveals how occupational stereotypes, cemented early in childhood, keep women out of male-coded professions. When she first mentioned becoming a firefighter, friends ridiculed her—'You’re tiny! You’ll get in the way.' Career advisors warned her to have a plan B. At the time, only 1% of UK firefighters were women, and the cultural imagination still equated firefighting with brawny, fearless men—not disciplined, analytical women. This mismatch between identity and expectation creates what psychologists call incongruence bias: when you don’t fit the stereotype of your job, people assume incompetence before you even speak.

Children Learn Bias Before They Learn Multiplication

One poignant example comes from a UK social experiment where schoolchildren were asked to draw a firefighter, a surgeon, and a pilot. Out of sixty-one drawings, only four showed women. Yet when real female professionals in those roles entered the classroom, the children’s delight quickly erased their assumptions—proof that bias is learned early but unlearned easily, if challenged soon enough. Adults, however, are more resistant. As Cohen-Hatton discovered, the comments under an online article about her weren’t about her achievements but sexualized insults or accusations of tokenism—signs that stereotypes harden with age.

The Backlash of Success

Research confirms her experience. Studies show that women in male-dominated industries are viewed as competent but disliked—the infamous “double bind.” When a woman pilot like Mandy Hickson led RAF combat missions, wives of male colleagues resented her presence, assuming impropriety. She was forced to babysit their children just to prove trustworthiness. Even flight suits were built for men, forcing women to adapt painfully to ill-fitting gear. Success, in these systems, demands not just competence but constant self-defense.

Why Women Turn on Women

Perhaps the book’s most uncomfortable revelation is that women, too, uphold these hierarchies. Cohen-Hatton references social comparison theory: when women see another woman succeed in a male domain, it can trigger self-doubt and resentment rather than solidarity—especially among those who see themselves as less “agentic” (assertive, ambitious). This dynamic weakens female alliances and turns potential role models into threats. One study even found that women in law firms with few female partners were less willing to see senior women as mentors, reinforcing isolation.

Changing the Frame: From Threat to Possibility

Cohen-Hatton argues that fixing gender bias isn’t about forcing women to “fit in” but about redrawing what “fitting in” means. Mentorship programs, like those in UK police services and the WISE STEM initiative, help women build confidence and networks that counteract tokenism. By reframing role models as relatable, not unreachable, they convert competition into collective empowerment. Her larger point: representation alone isn’t enough—belonging is what makes change stick.

Cultural bias starts with how five-year-olds draw pictures but continues with how adults tell stories about who belongs in certain uniforms. The solution lies in replacing the phrase “jobs for the boys” with “jobs for the best”—and then ensuring every young girl truly believes she could be the best.

In ‘The Right Impression,’ Cohen-Hatton explores how women must constantly navigate the perilous art of impression management—adjusting how they speak, dress, or lead so they appear competent but not “cold.” This psychological balancing act is exhausting and unfair. Women know that a single misstep—raising your voice, delivering criticism, or even choosing clothing—can instantly shift perceptions from “assertive professional” to “aggressive problem.”

Ann Hopkins and the Catch-22 of Femininity

The chapter opens with the landmark story of Ann Hopkins, a consultant at Price Waterhouse denied partnership in 1982 for being “too macho.” Her superiors literally advised her to “walk, talk, and dress more femininely.” Hopkins sued, and the U.S. Supreme Court sided with her, declaring that employers who require traits like aggressiveness for success cannot simultaneously punish women for displaying them. Yet four decades later, Cohen-Hatton shows, the Catch-22 persists in subtler forms everywhere from classrooms to council meetings.

Criticism Hurts Women More

When Cohen-Hatton reprimanded a male subordinate for underperformance, he retaliated by undermining her—proof, she argues, of a psychological defense known as motivated stereotyping. Research backs her up: students rate female professors more harshly than male ones when given poor grades, seeing them as “incompetent” rather than “strict.” It’s not the feedback but the gender of the critic that offends our self-esteem. The result? Women in authority are punished for doing their jobs.

Clothing, Sexualization, and the Goldilocks Dilemma

Cohen-Hatton then examines how women’s physical appearance becomes workplace currency. Cases like dental assistant Melissa Nelson, fired for being “too attractive,” and Citibank employee Debrahlee Lorenzana, dismissed for wearing fitted clothes, expose how femininity is policed. Female employees are either too sexy or too severe, reinforcing what Cohen-Hatton calls the Goldilocks Dilemma: too much or too little femininity—but never “just right.” Even in sports, media praise men’s performance but scrutinize women’s bodies, as with tennis icons Anna Kournikova and Serena Williams. The result is a culture where appearance eclipses ability.

Changing the Script

Cohen-Hatton urges readers to call out comments that focus on a woman’s looks over her skills and to check how they talk about women’s behavior. A simple test: would you say the same about a man? From sports commentary to office chatter, questioning double standards is activism in miniature. Networking groups like AllBright, she notes, provide safe spaces for women to share experiences and strategies without fear of social penalty.

Her advice is both moral and practical: be heard rather than liked. Women shouldn’t have to contort themselves to match impossible standards of palatability. Authentic leadership, not performative modesty, is the new professionalism.

Cohen-Hatton’s exploration of leadership begins not in a boardroom but in her daughter’s nursery, where a teacher chastises little Gabby for being “bossy.” In that moment, Cohen-Hatton realized how deep the roots of gendered leadership run. Girls are told to tone down directive behavior, while boys are praised for “natural leadership.” That early conditioning, multiplied across a lifetime, explains why women hold only a fraction of top leadership roles—even in 2020s Britain, where just 8 of the FTSE 100 CEOs are women.

Why Leadership Still Means Masculinity

Global surveys like the Reykjavik Index for Leadership reveal that people still see men as better suited to power—especially younger men, an unexpected twist. Cohen-Hatton links this to how society shapes masculine identity through dominance and control, from media objectification of women to the normalization of “boys will be boys.” When men learn power equals masculinity, sharing it feels like loss, not equality. The result is resistance—sometimes open, sometimes invisible—to female leadership.

The Science of Role Congruity

Psychologists Alice Eagly and Steven Karau call this the role congruity theory: people evaluate leaders more positively when their behavior aligns with gender stereotypes. Leadership, associated with assertiveness and dominance, fits masculine norms better than communal, empathetic feminine ones. Thus, a man and a woman leading identically will be judged differently. The classic Harvard experiment with Heidi and Howard Roizen proved this: the same résumé, but “Howard” was admired; “Heidi” was resented. Bias isn’t about belief, Cohen-Hatton reminds us—it’s about reflex.

How to Fix the Script

Changing leadership perception requires expanding what leadership looks like. Cohen-Hatton notes that women often outperform men on emotional intelligence, a skill crucial for modern organizations but undervalued by old hierarchies. Instead of adopting the aggressive charisma of “heroic” leaders like Steve Jobs, she points to empathetic figures such as Jacinda Ardern—commanding yet compassionate—as blueprints for the future. She also highlights how fathers of daughters tend to become stronger gender equality advocates, suggesting empathy grows through exposure and personal connection.

True change, she argues, will depend on male allyship. When men challenge sexism, they’re taken more seriously than women—an irony turned into opportunity. But allyship demands humility, listening, and courage. For both genders, leadership isn’t domination; it’s creating conditions where others can lead too.

Failure is universal—but punishment isn’t. In ‘The Cost of Failure,’ Cohen-Hatton explores how women’s mistakes are magnified, their successes discounted, and their freedom to fail severely restricted. When she failed her first promotion exam, she wasn’t just disappointed—she felt she had confirmed others’ doubts about women’s competence. Men fail as individuals; women fail as representatives of their gender.

Perfectionism Starts in Childhood

Watching her daughter cry over a math quiz, Cohen-Hatton recognized how early girls internalize the fear of imperfection. Studies by psychologist Carol Dweck show that bright girls are more likely than boys to give up when challenged, believing ability is fixed rather than developed. Boys, taught to see failure as feedback, persevere. By adolescence, women have been socialized to see mistakes as character flaws rather than part of growth.

The Glass Cliff Trap

Even success can set women up for failure. Psychologists Michelle Ryan and Alex Haslam coined the term the glass cliff to describe how women are often promoted into precarious roles during crises. When these companies or institutions collapse, women are blamed, reinforcing myths of female inadequacy. Men, on the other hand, inherit stable organizations and are deemed saviors. Whether it’s Anne Mulcahy reviving Xerox or countless women CEOs navigating turmoil, the risks are higher and the tolerance for error lower.

Normalizing Imperfection

Cohen-Hatton insists that failure is essential for innovation and resilience. Yet women often mask vulnerability to appear “invincible,” fearing professional backlash. When she began publicly sharing her own story of homelessness and recovery, others opened up too—proof that vulnerability breeds connection, not weakness. Normalizing failure, she says, requires leaders to model it openly and reframing errors as evidence of experimentation, not incompetence.

Her conclusion echoes advice from entrepreneur Reshma Saujani, founder of Girls Who Code: teach girls bravery, not perfection. Courage, Cohen-Hatton reminds us, is not the absence of fear but the decision to act despite it. Failures, owned and shared, are not ends but stepping stones to collective progress.

‘A Question of Modesty’ examines one of the subtlest shackles holding women back: the pressure to appear humble. At a Buckingham Palace event, Cohen-Hatton downplayed her previous royal award rather than risk seeming boastful. Later, she realized that her silence let men assume superiority. This self-effacing reflex, while socially rewarded in women, reinforces invisibility at work.

The Feminine Modesty Effect

Psychologists Robert Gould and Caroline Slone coined this term to describe women’s habitual underrepresentation of achievements. Studies show that when asked to predict grades, women report lower expectations than men yet quietly outperform them. The disparity appears only in public settings, suggesting not lack of confidence but fear of disapproval. Modesty functions as social armor: by shrinking, women preempt judgment.

When Politeness Costs Paychecks

This self-censorship has economic consequences. Experiments found women 35% less likely than men to be called for interviews from identical résumés, and when they negotiated salaries, they were often punished for assertiveness. Modest men earned more than their brash peers, but modest women earned less—a cruel inversion of virtue economics. Even name bias plays a role: executive Erin McKelvey got 70% more responses after using the gender-neutral “Mack.” Women, she shows, can lose simply by being identifiable as women.

Turning Modesty into Advocacy

Cohen-Hatton challenges women to reframe self-promotion as service rather than selfishness: sharing achievements inspires others and breaks silence. Studies show younger women are energized by hearing other women’s success stories. Managers can help by crediting contributions in meetings and recognizing team impact. Organizationally, salary increments based on objective criteria can prevent self-advocacy penalties that spring from modesty norms.

“Modesty is fine,” Cohen-Hatton concludes, “as long as it’s a choice.” True humility means owning your worth without apology—because every time a woman hides her light, another loses her map.

In ‘You’re Not the Priority,’ Cohen-Hatton tackles one of the most stubborn gender inequalities: the unpaid labor that follows women home. Despite progress in paid work, 93% of couples still report unequal housework. Women spend an extra ten hours per week on chores, and even during the pandemic, that gap widened. Behind every successful professional woman, she notes, is a second shift of laundry, logistics, and guilt.

Domestic Duty as Destiny

Research shows that people still assign household tasks along gender lines, even for same-sex couples—chores go to the more “feminine” partner. This reflects not reason but default cultural scripts. Women are still expected to be the caregivers, organizing appointments and remembering birthdays, while men enjoy more leisure and rest time. Little wonder, Cohen-Hatton quips, that women go to work for a break.

The Fatherhood Friction

Her husband’s experience at a mother-and-baby class highlights how culture alienates men from caregiving. Other mothers avoided conversation, leaving him isolated. Sociologist Laura Merla found similar experiences among stay-at-home fathers who face ridicule or emasculation. Real equality, Cohen-Hatton insists, requires welcoming men into domestic spaces with the same enthusiasm as workplaces welcome women.

The Burnout Loop

Women who “do it all” pay a price in mental health. Studies measuring cortisol levels show women are less stressed at work than at home, and mothers chasing the myth of “perfect parenting” suffer the highest burnout. Many also self-sabotage through “maternal gatekeeping,” micromanaging partners’ domestic efforts for fear of imperfection, reinforcing the inequality they despise. The message: sharing labor means sharing standards, too.

Redesigning Work and Home

Cohen-Hatton advocates flexible and hybrid work policies that normalize balance for both genders. Leaders can model this by showing their own family realities—her dog wandering into Zoom meetings became an act of quiet revolution. She also highlights how cultural policing extends to women’s reproductive choices: childless women face stigma, while mothers face guilt. Freedom, she argues, is the right to choose when and whether to prioritize others without moral penalty.

To fix gender imbalance, you can’t just close the pay gap—you must close the chore gap. Equality at work begins in the kitchen sink.

If earlier chapters dissect invisible ceilings, this one looks at the floor beneath our feet. The ‘glass breadline’ describes how social class—and especially poverty—intersects with gender to cloud upward mobility. For women, Cohen-Hatton explains, poverty is both economic and psychological: a mirror that reflects worthlessness back at you until you believe it. Speaking from experience—having once sold The Big Issue as a homeless teen—she exposes how judgment replaces compassion at society’s margins.

Poverty’s Gendered Weight

Single mothers are five times more likely to live in poverty than couples, and twice as likely as single fathers. Women dominate low-wage sectors like care and leisure, yet earn less than men in the same jobs. Systemic issues amplify their vulnerability: welfare cuts hit women hardest, childcare costs limit work hours, and debt—often coerced through abusive relationships—keeps them trapped. The “poverty premium” means the poorest women pay the most for essentials through high-interest loans and prepaid utilities.

The Hidden Tax of Judgment

Cohen-Hatton recalls how strangers accused her of exploiting her dog for sympathy while she was homeless; they saw laziness, not survival. Such encounters, she argues, shape self-esteem as much as hunger. Poverty teaches people to expect rejection, turning shame into identity. Over time, this becomes a psychological barrier as real as any financial one. Even when women escape poverty, imposter syndrome lingers—the glass breadline rises with them.

Social Mobility, the Hard Way

Education should be a ladder, but for low-SES women it’s often missing rungs. Children on free school meals are 57% less likely to earn top grades. By age 25, only 18% of women from these backgrounds earn above the living wage. Class bias persists even in elite professions: identical CVs with working-class cues receive fewer callbacks, and wealthy women are still penalized for presumed domestic priorities. In law firms, privilege helps men fit; it brands women as flight risks.

To truly shatter inequality, she argues, societies must stop romanticizing “rags-to-riches” narratives and start fixing the rags. Poverty isn’t a personal failure—it’s a policy choice. Helping women rise means providing ladders that reach the ground: affordable childcare, fair pay, and social mobility programs that measure success not by wealth but by dignity.

The book’s closing chapters confront the most toxic stage of bias: the public punishment of women who succeed. As a chief fire officer, Cohen-Hatton has endured anonymous trolls accusing her of sleeping her way to the top. But she broadens her lens beyond her own experiences to global patterns of online misogyny that target women in power—journalists, CEOs, politicians—for daring to exist visibly.

Digital Abuse as Modern Policing

From Egyptian ship captain Marwa Elselehdar, falsely blamed for the Suez Canal blockage, to U.S. Vice President Kamala Harris, smeared as “sleeping her way up,” disinformation campaigns weaponize sexism to discredit women’s achievements. Studies show female politicians receive triple the abuse of their male counterparts, focusing on appearance or sexuality rather than competence. When MP Luciana Berger spoke against antisemitism, coordinated online attacks combined misogyny, racism, and violence. Trolls don’t just insult; they seek to silence.

The Psychology of the Troll

Cohen-Hatton cites research on the “Dark Tetrad” of personality—narcissism, Machiavellianism, psychopathy, and sadism—traits common among habitual online abusers. Everyday sadists gain pleasure from others’ pain and anonymity removes consequences. The old advice “don’t feed the trolls” ignores that silence enables impunity. Instead, she encourages digital citizenship: bystanders reporting abuse, offering support, and reinforcing positive behavior to outweigh negativity. Each act of solidarity becomes a match in the dark.

Reclaiming the Internet

Cohen-Hatton advocates codifying online gender-based violence within national laws and holding tech companies accountable under frameworks like the Istanbul Convention. The UK’s proposed Online Safety Bill is a step forward; Mexico’s “Olimpia Law” already criminalizes digital defamation of women. Efforts like Glitch’s “digital citizenship” education teach empathy and accountability online. As Yvette Cooper’s ‘Reclaim the Internet’ campaign argues, the web is now our public street—and women have every right to walk it safely.

In her final reflection, Cohen-Hatton turns anger into resolve: each woman who endures harassment without retreat expands space for others. Echoing Maya Angelou, she writes, “Each time a woman stands up for herself, she stands up for all women.” That courage, she insists, is the flame that refuses to be extinguished.