On Being Taken Seriously

by Layla Foord

A former boss once said to me, after a leadership interview:“How will the developers cope with her?” I blinked. “What do you mean?” He gave a half-smile. “You know… being so pretty. They’ll feel uncomfortable.”

I paused, then said, more out of instinct than confidence “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. She’s smart and capable. We should hire her.”

And we did. But I walked away with something else too. A familiar residue.

It wasn’t the first time I’d had to sidestep a comment like that. By then, I was used to absorbing the kind of feedback that’s meant to sound like flattery but is really a warning: you don’t quite look how we expect power to look.

At 15, during a school work experience placement at a major insurance firm in London, I was told: No trousers. And women aren’t allowed on the trading floor. I didn’t question it. Just like I hadn’t questioned the school rule that banned girls from wearing pants either. I wore the skirt and got on with it. That’s what girls did.

In my early twenties, I was told by a senior manager to wear “something nice” to a corporate event.

“Maybe the leather jeans,” he said. And so I did, because back then, it felt normal to be dressed by someone else’s expectations.

At 23, I was introduced to a colleague as a “child prodigy.” Not the person leading global research. Not a peer. A novelty.

And once, at a work party, a man came over, held my face, and licked it.

“Hahahah!” they laughed. I laughed too. Because what else are you meant to do when your job, unspoken but clear, is to keep the room at ease?

Or the time a leader told me that he was looking for somebody who has led global product and engineering teams and 'well let's face it, you're just not there' as he held his hand palm down, making a squashing gesture, as if literally pushing me down. Ironically, I'd already had 10 years of experience doing just that, and probably before he left uni. But it still hit like a bus in my confidence cortex.

Smile, love. It might never happen.

That phrase was everywhere. Tucked into comments. Sewn into culture. Echoed in the silence after moments you were meant to forget.

So I smiled. I softened my tone. I made people comfortable. Because that’s what high-performing, emotionally intelligent women do. We don’t cause ripples. We don’t make things awkward. We carry the weight of the room without anyone asking us to and then we’re praised for our grace.

But it's a trap:

If your job is to ease the room, how do you ever push difficult things forward?

How do you name risk?

Or disrupt culture?

Or hold a boundary when the tone turns?

You don’t. Not without being labelled: Too much. Too intense. Too direct. Too emotional.

Or just… a bitch.

So I adapted. Like many women I know, I spent years learning to lead without appearing to lead. Which is really hard to explain in an interview.

I built systems quietly. I grew teams gently. I carried board-level strategy through product, operations, data, and people, without ever taking up too much space.

This is 50 yr old me according to AI

I've spent a good portion of my career wishing I looked older. Just old enough to be taken seriously.

Now I am older, and I still catch myself wishing I had more grey hair, a few more wrinkles, something that says: I worked before email. Something that proves I’m credible. Somebody like her on the left, who according to AI is what a 50 yr old Layla looks like.

Recently, I updated my LinkedIn photo and hesitated. Not because it wasn’t me, but because I wondered if it might be too me. Too open. Too warm. Too polished.The kind of face that gets mistaken for the assistant, not the COO. The kind of face that gets called “cheerful” instead of “decisive.”

It’s strange, carrying 30 years of strategic and operational leadership in your body, and still wondering whether your face tells the wrong story.

What 50 Really Looks Like

But I know now: I’m not here to bend myself into a shape that makes others feel more comfortable with their own discomfort. I’m not here to perform gravitas. I’m not here to harden to be heard.

I’ve led global teams. Built platforms. Rebuilt product cultures. Scaled national education programs. Raised capital. Held systems. Moved things that were stuck.

And if this face looks “too soft” for a boardroom, maybe the boardroom needs softening.

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-Layla