♦Last year, I joined Oxford’s Women’s Leadership Programme, and one of the reasons I wanted to do it was that, after more than a decade in technology, I had accumulated far more questions about leadership than answers.
I had already experienced leadership from several different angles. I had been the engineer who wanted to stay close to the code, the technical lead trying to make architecture decisions that other teams could actually live with, the manager responsible for developing people, and the person in the room who had to translate a technically correct answer into something a client or senior stakeholder could understand. More recently, building a startup added another version of leadership altogether, where a “strategic decision” can mean discussing product direction in the morning and worrying about manufacturing details by lunchtime.
What I had not expected was how often the hardest decisions had very little to do with whether I was capable of doing something. They were usually decisions about what I was willing to give up in order to do it.
- Should I remain deeply technical or spend more time developing leadership skills?
- If I become a manager, how much technical depth will I lose?
- If I stay on the technical path, will my leadership be as visible?
- How much time should I spend mentoring other people when I am also expected to demonstrate my own impact?
- Should I keep building expertise in an area where I am already strong, or deliberately move into something new and temporarily become a beginner again?
- Is choosing stability sensible, or am I simply becoming very sophisticated at avoiding risk?
These are also the kinds of questions I hear from women I mentor, many of whom are early in their careers or have just graduated. They often ask me what the “right” decision is, and I increasingly find myself giving them a slightly inconvenient answer: there usually isn’t one.
There is a trade-off.
And then there are the contradictions that become particularly entertaining when you are a woman in technology.
You are encouraged to speak up, although preferably without appearing too confident. You should become visible, but nobody wants someone who is “self-promotional.”
You should be collaborative, supportive and generous with your time, while also making sure you own sufficiently strategic work for your next promotion.
You should become a leader, but remain technical enough that nobody questions whether you still understand the technology.
You should negotiate for yourself, mentor others, develop executive presence, stay current with AI, understand the business, contribute to the community and, according to most leadership advice, establish healthy boundaries somewhere between all of that.
Apparently, we are expected to achieve high availability with no redundancy cost.
The engineer in me has some objections.
In architecture, nobody seriously expects a system to maximize everything. We cannot simultaneously optimize cost, latency, consistency, availability, security, operational simplicity and speed of delivery without eventually discovering that physics, budgets, or both have opinions.
We start with constraints instead.
What actually matters? What are we optimizing for? What risk are we willing to accept? What becomes more complicated if we choose this option? What are we deliberately not optimizing right now?
And most importantly, what does this decision make possible that another decision would not?
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that careers work in much the same way. There is no architecture in which you can maximize technical depth, organizational influence, leadership, compensation, learning, stability, flexibility, visibility and personal time indefinitely. Something eventually competes with something else.
Yet a lot of career advice aimed at women still sounds as though we should.
That is why I have become much more interested in the trade-offs behind successful careers than in the usual list of things women should supposedly do more of. “Be more confident” is easy advice to give. It is much more interesting to ask what happens when becoming more visible takes time away from technical depth, when helping everyone else makes your own contribution harder to see, or when moving into management gives you more organizational influence while quietly taking you further away from the technical work that built your identity in the first place.
The trade-offs themselves are not uniquely female, of course. Men also decide whether to move into management, specialize, take a risky opportunity or prioritize stability.
What can differ is the environment in which those choices are made.
McKinsey and LeanIn.Org’s Women in the Workplace 2025 report shows that women make up 49 percent of entry-level employees but only 29 percent of C-suite roles. Representation narrows gradually as careers progress, which I find interesting because careers rarely change because of one enormous decision. They are shaped by many smaller opportunities, relationships, choices and trade-offs accumulating over time.
That does not mean every woman will face the same barriers, or that every career decision is harder for women. I also do not want younger women to begin their careers believing they are entering a twenty-year obstacle course.
Quite the opposite.
I think understanding the environment gives you more agency inside it. If visibility matters, you can learn to communicate your technical impact without turning yourself into a personal-branding department. If you want leadership, you can actively seek sponsorship and stretch opportunities. If you want to remain technical, you can look for organizations where senior technical leadership is genuinely valued.
That is why I prefer talking about trade-offs rather than limitations.
A limitation says, “This path is difficult.”
A trade-off asks, “What matters enough to me that I am willing to choose it anyway?”
That is a much more useful question.
What Are You Buying With the Risk?Some of the biggest career decisions are really risk-management exercises wearing business-casual clothing.
Do you stay at the established company where the salary is predictable, the benefits are good and there is probably an internal wiki containing seventeen career frameworks?
Or do you join the startup where the job description is technically three jobs and someone says, “We move fast here,” which may mean exciting ownership or that nobody has configured backups?
Neither option is inherently smarter.
Large organizations can offer structure, strong peers, resources and predictable progression. Smaller organizations can offer disproportionate ownership, rapid learning, direct customer exposure and the opportunity to make decisions far beyond your title.
The same question appears when deciding whether to stay in an area where you already have expertise or move into something new. Specialization can build authority, while breadth can create adaptability. Going deeper can make you exceptional at something; moving sideways can expose you to problems you would never have encountered otherwise.
Instead of asking whether a move is simply safe or risky, I find another question much more useful:
What am I buying with the risk I am taking?
Learning? Ownership? A new industry? A stronger network? Access to a technology that may shape the next decade? A chance to operate at a larger scope?
If the upside is vague and the risk is concrete, that is probably not a particularly attractive trade.
If the upside meaningfully changes your future options, the calculation becomes much more interesting.
And choosing stability can be an intentional decision too. Not every ambitious career has to involve disruption, reinvention and dramatic announcements on LinkedIn.
Sometimes stability is exactly what allows you to do your best work.
The important thing is knowing that you chose it, rather than simply drifting into it.
You Are Allowed to Grow Into the RoleThere is a very specific form of career paralysis that appears when you read an interesting job description.
You meet seven of the ten requirements, and naturally your brain ignores those seven and becomes emotionally attached to the remaining three.
Within minutes, you have convinced yourself that every other applicant has spent the previous decade mastering exactly those technologies and probably configures distributed systems recreationally on Sundays.
Many roles are learned while doing them.
Nobody starts their first staff engineering position already knowing how to be a staff engineer. Nobody becomes a manager with complete confidence on day one. Nobody becomes an architect having already designed every conceivable system.
At some point, growth requires accepting an opportunity where the requirements are slightly ahead of your current experience.
This is something I especially want early-career women to hear, because “I have never done this before” and “I am not capable of doing this” are very different statements.
You are allowed to learn the next job while doing the next job.
You are allowed to become a beginner again after being an expert.
You are allowed to apply before you have collected every possible qualification.
And sometimes the most useful trade-off you can make is giving up a little certainty in exchange for a much larger learning curve.
Design the Next Version, Not the Final OneWhen younger women ask me what the right career choice is, I increasingly resist giving them a formula.
Instead, I ask what they want to optimize for right now.
Learning? Technical depth? Leadership? Ownership? Flexibility? Stability? Impact? Something completely different?
Then we talk about the trade, not because I want them to become cautious, but because I want them to become intentional.
Understanding trade-offs does not make your career smaller. In many ways, it gives you permission to make bolder decisions because you stop waiting for the imaginary option where everything is perfect.
You can choose technical depth knowing that visibility may require additional effort. You can choose leadership knowing that you may spend less time coding. You can join something risky because the learning is worth it. You can choose stability because stability is genuinely what you value at that stage of your life, rather than because somebody told you ambition always has to look like disruption.
And you can change your mind later.
That may be the message I most want early-career women to hear.
You do not need to design your entire career at twenty-two, twenty-five or thirty. You only need to understand what you are optimizing for in the next version.
Requirements change. Priorities change. Technologies change. You change.
There will be imperfect choices, and there will probably be a few decisions you look back on and wonder what exactly you were thinking.
That is normal.
No good system reaches its final architecture in version one.
Neither do we.
♦Women in Tech: Choosing What to Optimize For was originally published in Code Like A Girl on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.