She's the Boss

For reasons that can probably be guessed, I have become fascinated with monstrous professional women, colloquially known as bosses from hell. I actually read The Devil Wears Prada (which could have benefited from a good copy editor) and then I heard somewhere that Judith Regan fit the bill, and I came up with this article.

It's striking how similar such women are, give or take a characteristic or two. There is the imperious confidence (which of course fronts the deeply suppressed insecurity), the narcissism, the obsessive focus on minute details, the vendettas and battles, the back-stabbing, the outrageous treatment of underlings, the constant staff turnover, the failed personal life.

Then there is the remarkable professional success. Miranda Priestley's eye makes Runway the impeccable publication that it is (and I assume Anna Wintour does the same for Vogue). No one can argue with the number of bestsellers ReganBooks has published. I could provide more evidence, but I won't--you'll have to excuse me.

So I'm trying to come up with a feminist analysis here. Let's get one thing straight, though, before we even start. Women like this, or at least, women like this with whom I am acquainted, suck. A lot. They are cruel, vindictive, petty, and manipulative, and they cause untold misery to other people, men and women alike. I am loath to offer a systemic analysis that offers any insight into how and why they are the way they are, because, really, there is no excuse.

And yet. Why are we so interested in women bosses from hell? Surely there are men who are as bad, yet still we harp on the women. Facing the constraints of gender, do women have to be that much nastier to prove, as Judith Regan puts it, that "Everyone in this place is a pussy but me!"? Do we expect a kinder, gentler professional demeanor from women, and then become outraged when we don't get it?

Is there a system, then, that rewards a certain kind of woman? Do such women have the stamina to claw their way to the top--and not give a damn what other people think of them? And do we have an ambivalent fascination with them--awe at their accomplishments and disgust at their misdeeds, an antonymous schadenfreude, as it were--that somehow enables us to justify our failure to achieve in the way they have?

Yeah, probably.

Or you can read it as the triumph of power feminism and the repudiation of difference feminism, along with the persistence of the double standard. As Margaret Thatcher and Condoleeza Rice have shown us in the political arena, women can be just as good as men--and just as bad. And we need to curb our own instincts to believe otherwise.

[My favorite quote from the Judith Regan article? The former friend who calls her "the highest functioning deranged person I've ever known."]

[Aren't you impressed that I've written this whole post without using the b-word? That's in honor of you, Dr. B.]

[And in case anyone else wants to count down with me: 11 days.]