Those of us fortunate enough to be working from home during the pandemic have likely participated in more Zoom calls than we can count. We may have hoped that as we settled into our WFH routines, the eagerness to Zoom would disappear as quickly as our stimulus checks did. But alas, many of us still find our calendars scattered with Zoom calls that feel more burdensome than in-person meetings—a burden that may be heavier for women.
For many women, myself included, makeup is a welcome part of the daily routine. I enjoy accentuating my favorite features—like coffee, makeup provides the boost I need to start my day. Other women prefer to leave the makeup aside, but no matter how confident we are with our decision, wearing makeup (or not wearing it) is consequential—including in the workplace.
Growing up in DC, Johnson was taught the importance of advocacy and justice early on. Here, she’s pictured near the Washington Monument celebrating a major sports victory for the city she’s proud to call home.
Studies show that women are perceived to be more competent when wearing makeup. Those 30 minutes applying makeup may cost time, but going barefaced may cost some promotions––women who wear makeup are more likely to achieve greater prestige in their careers.* The unfortunate reality is that for women, deciding to wear makeup is a personal choice and a professional one.
Even for those of us who enjoy the satisfaction of perfectly applied eyeliner, it is frustrating to carry yet another burden men don’t—which is why women released a collective sigh of relief when working from home became our reality. You mean I don’t have to wake up 30 minutes early to do makeup? Incredible.
Even though some of us may enjoy wearing makeup for ourselves, it is especially freeing to wear makeup simply because we want to and not because our career is intertwined with that decision. But as companies have adjusted their work from home standards, many of us are facing a new policy: cameras must be on during Zoom meetings. And, there goes that freedom I just mentioned.
I was recently with a friend when she joined a Zoom meeting with her colleagues. Upon noticing her static photo, my friend’s manager announced for all participants to hear, “Jane, camera on please.” This seemingly benign request poses a new take on an age-old challenge for women: how do we want to present ourselves to our coworkers in this new, semi-casual work environment? Male colleagues, however, can turn their cameras on and off with relative ease because their professional reputations aren’t as reliant on their appearances as women's are.
For women, the pressure to present a certain way in the workplace doesn’t stop with makeup––it encompasses all aspects of our outward appearance, including hair and wardrobe. To get a better sense of this phenomenon, I spoke with working women of various ages and backgrounds. Though the specifics of their experiences varied, one thing was universally apparent: women are bound by societal expectations that have unwarranted effects on our confidence and success at work.
"I do feel like I have to dress nicer or dress up for a meeting more than my male counterpart, otherwise I won't be taken seriously. I look around and men are in faded jeans and a sweater, while I'm in boots and a coat wondering if I look presentable," says an account manager in California.
“Our society holds women to the unrealistic standard of needing to be perfect at all times,” reports an account manager in D.C.
“In the beginning of the pandemic, it was nice to give my skin a break from makeup. Unfortunately, my company started requiring us to put on our cameras in video meetings to emulate ‘real-life interactions.’ I work in a predominantly male industry, so the extra effort is annoying and one-sided. I don’t want to be taken less seriously if I don’t look ‘put together’ or ‘on’ in the workplace,” said a senior research associate in New York.
While societal standards of professional appearance for men are limited, women often find themselves struggling to fit a set of impossible norms. For women like Jane, being put together has typically included finding a balance between looking nice enough to be taken seriously but not looking too nice for fear of being sexualized––and this expectation has carried over to the remote work environment:
Johnson at a women’s march in Madrid, Spain. Her sign reads “respect my existence or expect resistance.”
“It’s a double standard because my male colleagues will wear sweatshirts and hats during our video meetings, whereas I would never feel comfortable doing that. No one has ever directly said that this is what’s expected of us, but I’ve seen the consequences of nonconformists. One of my female colleagues wore a hat and EVERYONE commented on it –– ‘Why is she wearing that?’ On the other hand, my male colleagues have gone to work with holes in their t-shirts. They were teased for it, but I don’t think it harmed their careers.”
The pressure to look presentable plays out differently in some male-dominated industries like engineering and athletics, with a greater emphasis placed on playing down one’s femininity. Bianca, a structural engineer who is one of a few women on her team, enjoys makeup and fashion but feels the need to limit the amount of time she spends on her appearance for fear of being mocked by her male colleagues.
Hillary, an athletics professional, reports a similar feeling of suppression at work saying, “women need to blend in with men in the sports world and wear casual attire and team clothes instead of nice, fashionable outfits. I don’t like being told what to wear, [but] as a woman in a male-dominated field, I don’t want to stand out more than I already do.”
Like many gendered double standards, the burden of being presentable is felt more profoundly by queer women and women of color. [1] A respondent who identifies as bisexual feels there’s a lot riding on what she wears. To some extent, societal expectations surrounding women in the workplace have hindered her ability to express herself freely:
“I wish I could wear a little more makeup sometimes and it would just be fun and artsy and not a claim to any particular sort of stereotypical femininity. Part of me is still the little kid that wants to escape from the ‘girly girl’ archetype and is afraid to signal traditional femininity in that way––which is dumb because I am pretty comfortable with myself most of the time and I am a firm believer that gender/sexuality and presentation is all abstract and can be loosely related or not at all, and it’s all about personal expression. But I still feel like there’s a ton of baggage associated with gender, sexuality, and presentation, and my style choices won’t always be interpreted the way I want them to be. I want to wear lipstick/eyeshadow in a QUEER way, but much of the world will see it as traditional femininity because I don’t really look that queer, whatever that means.”
Women of color reported similar feelings that the intersection of their identities poses an extra layer of challenges at work:
“We all know that women of color have to work three times as hard for any semblance in this world,” says Kenia who identifies as Black/White.
“For more open-minded environments, my background is definitely a plus, because they are always looking to diversify their teams [but this isn’t always the case],” says Liz who is Middle Eastern/Egyptian.
“Being a Muslim Black woman and looking different than the people around me definitely contributes to the experience,” says Jada who is Black/Nigerian.
The additional pressures placed on queer women, women of color, and non-binary people remind us that systemic change is imperative. In addition to advocating for reform in our communities, it is essential that we pass legislation like the Equaltity Act, which prohibits discrimination on the basis of sex, sexual orientation, and gender identiy, and the CROWN Act, which prohibits discrimination based on race-based hairstyles.
Of the women I spoke with, those who felt the least pressure to conform to classic standards worked in casual office settings, didn’t participate in frequent video calls, or didn’t have extensive routines for personal reasons. But even women who forego extensive makeup, hair, and wardrobe regimes recognize it as an act of defiance, further showcasing how ingrained societal expectations are. As one respondent who has a more casual routine puts it, “I’ve never worn much makeup because I’m a bit of a contrarian. I have a strong hatred of the fact that being made up is expected of women.”
For women, the correlation between presentation and respect at work manifests differently across professions and identities, but at the end of the day, there's a universal pressure to abide by standards that have little regard for the female perspective. Psychologists have confirmed how pervasive and detrimental these expectations are, saying a woman’s worth is often determined by how she looks, even in situations when appearances shouldn’t matter.* In this remote work environment, women have embraced the freedom to spend less time and money on appearance. Requiring cameras to be on for all video calls sacrifices a convenience many working women are enjoying for the first time: the opportunity to express ourselves as we choose with no fear of professional consequences.
I understand the incentive for companies to require Zoom participants to show their faces. In an era of limited in-person interaction, seeing everyone’s face on a Zoom call can boost morale and enhance office culture. But managers need to consider the implications of requesting that cameras be on during all video calls. Perhaps companies can require cameras for more important meetings and maintain an “as you’d like” policy for others.
As work from home moves into its second year for many, women and non-binary people have more important tasks to worry about than maintaining appearances for the sake of making others comfortable. I dream of the day when women are respected simply for the work we contribute and not evaluated by how we look when doing said work. We’re accustomed to the patriarchal inconvenience of adjusting our appearance when going into the office and will keep fighting until that burden is no longer a reality. But please, while we have the privilege of working from home, let’s at least leave the sexism off camera.
Kelsea Johnson is a communications professional with a passion for advocacy and justice. Her interests include traveling (especially to Spain, where she’s previously lived), learning from others, and shining a light on marginalized voices through Stirred Stories, an independent publishing company she co-founded.
Kelsea is a proud native Washingtonian who spends much of her spare time telling anyone who will listen about DC culture. You can learn more about Kelsea and check out what she’s been working on with Stirred Stories here.
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We understand that this is among the least heavy challenges during this pandemic. The intent of this blog is not to discredit other, more severe scenarios.
*Sources: Olga Khazan, The Atlantic, 8/5/15; Etcoff etc. via Heather Widdows, Psychology Today, 1/7/20; Naomi Ellemers, Psychology Today, 9/7/18; Crown Act