Small acts of resistance (aka the walk on Sibos)
Sam: time for an experiment
At Sibos 2023, we went for a walk
It was a Sibos Wednesday.
Everyone was a little tired by now.
Faux sunlight shining through the industrial canopy with another heavy day of wall-to-wall meetings and astronomical step counts ahead.
A small congregation of three gathered in the speakers lounge to enjoy a moment of contemplation, relative quiet and restorative sodas. Unusually for any financial services event… all women. Numbers four and five arrived and still the mood was resolutely flat. My mind was restless and I decided the only course of action was to inspire some energy into the fabulous women in front of me… by way of a social experiment.
“Let’s go for a walk,” I said. I was met with visible apathy – eye rolls, sighs, and even a groan (yes, Ghela!)… Ever persistent, I continued. “It will be like Reservoir Dogs,” I said, pitching a degree of casual swagger that I was confident we could pull off as a group. Ears pricked up, the tribe tuned in and, within a breath, an argument broke out between Leda and Ghela on who got to be Mr Pink. I let them fight it out – for me, the game was afoot…
Leda: in the beginning was the word, and the word was ‘menacing’
I am not sure I didn’t lose the argument. I am not sure I got to be Mr Pink. By the time we hit the floor, it didn’t matter.
What I know for sure is we all got up and walked out.
We walked in formation. We walked the floor. We were looking for swag, friends we hadn’t seen all week and to stretch our legs.
What we got was women.
Because the women noticed the women walking and came to us.
“What are you guys doing?”, they asked.
Like the women of Sibos, few as we are, couldn’t be congregating without rhyme or reason.
“We’re just walking… join us,” we said.
So they did. We walked. We stopped to talk to friends. We picked up some swag. Some excellent socks. A wonderful water bottle. A very questionable fluffy pig with a fluorescent pink stress ball hidden where you least expected it (enough said, I am alone in my disapproval of the pig). But mostly we picked up other women who had never seen the women of Sibos in one group before other than in a ‘women of Sibos’ designated drinks reception.
This was different.
So we walked.
We grew in numbers.
“Slower,” said Sam, with her trademark brilliant smile and mischievous dark humour. “It’s more menacing.”
And boy was she right.
But before we get to that, let’s talk about the women walking.
Sam: the tribe assembles
Now, Leda, myself and others have written and spoken about the tribe, but in the ethereal, federated sense – people intermittently coming together in support of each other, just because it’s in their nature to do so. A beautiful thing. My tribe experiences in the sporting world were more physical in nature and, aside from managing presence on the rugby pitch, I’d always been quite intrigued by how a group of women with a bit about them were perceived off the field – out and about on the streets of the city. It was always eye opening. I’d never had the time to test it out in a professional setting, until now…
Everything I expected to see unfold happened, but with 10x the impact I’d seen before. How much of the reaction was visceral or subconscious is an open question, but the responses were both visible and palpable – client meetings stopped, paths cleared, you get the picture.
However, as unofficial pied piper, it was the impact on our group that was the most satisfying to bear witness to. After a tentative start, the group hit its stride, literally and figuratively. They stepped with purpose, with the power of the collective, channelling the great Queen Bey’s formation. We were quite the draw – hitting double digits at one point and leaving others visibly sad they couldn’t join us as they had a meeting.
Unsurprisingly, when people saw themselves represented, they saw a space they could freely join – no questions asked, no self-doubt. One of our number, petite in stature, declared she felt like she was a foot taller as people not only noticed her, but yielded space to her rather than ploughing on through.
Leda: through the eyes of others
So the pied piper proceeds all smiles. The women proceed in formation. All smiles.
And the men?
The men, I’m afraid to say, are rather visibly taken aback.
The men are startled.
The men do not smile. Confusion abounds.
The few that speak approach the women in the group that they already know to ask what is going on.
Like we couldn’t possibly come in peace.
Like we wouldn’t, even if we could.
Why are you all together?
We smiled, we chuckled, we laughed. We are friends. We are just walking. We never became numerous enough to qualify as a procession or a riot. Just numerous enough for a coven.
And I guess – as the t-shirt Sam got me for my last birthday sternly states – you can’t burn us all.
But come on, lads.
If we asked you why you are all together every time you are all together, none of us would ever get anywhere, male or female. If we all asked you what is going on every time a visibly all-male group was in motion (and I don’t mean an army, I am genuinely still talking about FS), we would be talking all day.
Was our walk an act of resistance? You betcha.
Was it an act of including the other women even if we didn’t already know them? Damn straight.
Was it also an exercise in taking up space that wasn’t given to us by rights but is no longer out of bounds either? Hells yes.
None of us wanted to go for a walk. None of us meant to make a statement.
Or maybe one of us did.
Sam didn’t tell us she had incited that meeting to rebellion. And yet that’s exactly what she had done.
I have been going to Sibos for a decade. So have the women we walked with. Some have been going for twice as long.
And yet I don’t believe we had been really seen before that day.
Well. Here we are.
See you next time, fellas.
#LedaWrites, #LedaWritesWithFriends
Leda Glyptis is FinTech Futures’ resident thought provocateur – she leads, writes on, lives and breathes transformation and digital disruption.
She is a recovering banker, lapsed academic and long-term resident of the banking ecosystem.
Leda is also a published author – her first book, Bankers Like Us: Dispatches from an Industry in Transition, is available to order here.
All opinions are her own. You can’t have them – but you are welcome to debate and comment!
Follow Leda on Twitter @LedaGlyptis and LinkedIn.
