Dear Gents,

I’ve heard it said that when there are all women and only one man in a group, everybody behaves as though there were no men there — and vice versa. The lone man (or woman) sits there relishing in the experience of seeing behind the curtain — the conversation style, the topics discussed, the tone of voice used. Maybe you’ve been in that situation before. But let’s face it, being in the minority isn’t all roses. Being invisible in a social setting can be illuminating or freeing, but in others settings it can be intimidating, exhausting and humiliating.

I often work with our Sales team to describe and defend our processes and offering to new potential customers. I am there to ask insightful questions, and help them understand how we might support them — building confidence as an expert to win new work.

Sometimes the presentations go well, sometimes they don’t, and you can usually tell at the time. In one such presentation last year, as we finished up they told us in no uncertain terms that we’d got it wrong; we had dived in too quickly, and the details we’d gone over weren’t really relevant. Egad! That hurt.

Nonetheless, they gave us a chance to try again, and some more detailed direction.

The next week we had the follow up. I was pretty nervous, and proportionally very well prepared. Just like the previous presentation, I was the only woman on the call out of the 8 or so attendees, and I was the main presenter.

To our great relief, the session went well. They asked me lots of questions about what I had presented which I answered to nodding heads. I could tell we had turned it around and I felt proud.

As things wrapped up the senior executive who was facilitating things (and the one we were trying to win over) ended the call by saying a friendly

‘Thanks gents!’

I was gobsmacked, and silently left the call as everyone else did.

My colleagues and I had a quick debrief. We all agreed that we had turned it around (unexpectedly) and there was an air of celebration and congratulations. We went on to win the work.

In our debrief none of my colleagues mentioned the ‘gents’ comment. I was a bit too shocked to realise that I had really wanted them to. While feeling proud and generally pleased — I had an increasing sense of utter humiliation.

A few months later one of my colleagues had a very similar experience. She was the only female recipient on a reasonably formal group email that began ‘Hi gents ’. In her case the email author noticed after the fact and sent her a personal apology — but didn’t call out their mistake in front of the other recipients — wouldn’t it have been wonderful if he had? Surely some of them noticed and wondered — how has this made her feel?

You could argue that these slips of the tongue can be excused and therefore ignored. After all, they are almost never done to intentionally hurt or ostracise. As I reflect on how it made me feel, I conclude that no, we should not ignore or excuse it. Rather, could we respond humbly, publicly, in a way that recognises the mistake and the potential hurt.

Why it mattered

After my particular humiliation, I sat on the couch with a wine and watched some TV. Processing what had happened, I spoke with my partner, messaged some good friends from work, and sent my sister the whole story via text. I ended up in tears as I recounted the situation. It was such a minor thing, why did I feel so completely deflated? The best explanation I can give is this:

I did most of the work, preparing and delivering the presentation, answering the questions, subjecting myself to what I knew was a tough audience. I was the one bringing the expertise and credibility to the table in that meeting. And when it came down to it, I was fundamentally overlooked by the most ‘important’ person on the call.

At the end of the day nobody else had noticed the comment but me. I felt incredibly alone.

A phrase like ‘Thanks gents’ when said to a group that includes non-men can be interpreted as:

I do not consider you an important part of this group. Your contributions are not meaningful.

What about when you are addressing only men? I think there is a subtext to the listener that justifies avoiding exclusively male collective nouns in all situations where theoretically men or non-men could be. That subtext is this:

We celebrate our exclusive maleness. Women or people of other genders are outsiders, and if they made their way into this group, they would not belong in the same way as the men do

I pointed out what had happened to my colleagues who were in the same call and told them how I felt.

They both said they hadn’t noticed, but they were sorry that it had happened. One even said that he would be more in tune to that, and if he heard it again he would certainly say something — appreciating that it needn’t always fall to me to do so.

So, while I’m sure there might be contexts where using ‘gents’ is appropriate and inoffensive, I’m also sure there are equally appropriate alternatives and starting to use them might help us break the habit.

If you’re thinking of saying ‘gents’, say something else.

Thanks folks