Threatened by Her: Authentic Women, Power, and Backlash at Work

Becoming More Yourself as a Social Risk

We live in a time in which many women are working hard to become more authentic. Therapy, trauma work, and conscious self‑development invite them to disentangle from people‑pleasing, to set boundaries, and to match their work and relationships with their own values rather than with inherited scripts. Ironically, these healthy changes often raise, not lower, their social risk in many workplaces and social systems. The more a woman moves into a grounded, value‑aligned version of herself, the more threatening she can become to individuals and structures that rely on role compliance, emotional labor, and silence (Ibarra, 2015; Kahn, 1990; Deci & Ryan, 2000).

My dissertation research on covert aggression and abuse of power by women in U.S. workplaces illustrates this paradox. The female targets I interviewed were not only highly competent and professional, but also recognizably authentic: clear about their values, unwilling to collude in unethical behavior, and increasingly unable to pretend that “everything is fine” when it was not. These women were not attacked because they were weak; they were attacked because becoming more themselves made them less controllable and more exposed to those around them (Hecker, 2024).

This article studies that paradox. It examines who authentic women in the workplace are, how their authenticity shows up in micro-behaviors, why they become a threat to both male and female bullies, and how gendered backlash and inter‑female aggression intersect with their efforts to live more truthfully.

Authentic Women in the Workplace: Who They Are

Authentic women are not simply “speaking their mind” or dispensing with tact. In this article, I use the term “authentic women” to describe women who have begun to reconnect their emotional lives and their voices—living less from people‑pleasing and more from an internally anchored sense of what they know and value. Studies of high‑achieving women who lead authentically show that they have a well‑developed understanding of their values, priorities, and preferences, and can clearly articulate the choices and trade‑offs they have made in both their work and personal lives (Avolio & Gardner, 2005; Ibarra, 2015). They describe decisions about leaving jobs, redesigning careers, exiting harmful situations, managing dual‑career partnerships, and establishing financial and family priorities as deliberate efforts to live in line with what matters to them. They are intentional about decisions rather than drifting along in roles that no longer fit.

Psychologically, these outer choices reflect a shift toward an internally anchored sense of self. Instead of organizing their worth around external approval, status, or steady productivity, authentic women increasingly measure themselves against their own values: “Did I act in line with what I believe?” rather than “Did they like me?” This internal orientation aligns with self‑determination theory’s emphasis on intrinsic versus extrinsic regulation (Deci & Ryan, 2000) and with multicomponent models of authenticity linking values, awareness, and behavior (Kernis & Goldman, 2006).

This inner anchoring also shows up in their emotional lives. An authentic woman tends to be relatively well‑regulated: trauma‑informed work on authenticity notes that such individuals maintain an accurate appraisal of their strengths and weaknesses, resist both grandiosity and despair, and derive their sense of worth primarily from internal values rather than from external approval (Siegel, 2012; Van der Kolk, 2014). She can feel and show vulnerability, but she is less easily pulled into others’ drama or chronic self‑blame than earlier in life.

Relationally, many authentic women are creative, sociable, and well-liked. Precisely because they are real, colleagues experience them as trustworthy. Trust frameworks in organizational psychology emphasize consistency, benevolence, and integrity as foundations of interpersonal trust (Mayer et al., 1995). They share credit, listen, support others, and are often sought out for perspective and reality‑testing. They may have been the “go‑to” person on their team long before they consciously claimed that role. In healthy systems, these traits make them stabilizing and deeply valuable presences.

From a depth‑psychological perspective, this movement toward inner anchoring and emotional coherence is also a movement toward what Jung called the Self, the deeper organizing center of the psyche that generates numinous experiences and orients us toward wholeness. Because authentic women have done the hard work of integrating trauma, shadow, and their own truth, their authority increasingly flows from an inner ground rather than from performance or people‑pleasing (Corbett, 1996). That shift alone—power that comes from within rather than from compliance—can destabilize systems that rely on role obedience, emotional labor, and silence.

Patriarchy, Voice, and Split Capacities

Patriarchal, hierarchical cultures not only constrain women from the outside; they also shape how all of us relate to our own feelings, needs, and voices. Carol Gilligan’s work shows how a wide range of human capacities are split into “masculine” and “feminine,” with traits coded as masculine—agency, assertiveness, separation—idealized, and traits coded as feminine—emotional awareness, relational intelligence, care, and an ethic of responsiveness—devalued (Gilligan, 1982, 1993). Terry Real describes this as a “dance of contempt”: traits associated with masculinity are treated as superior, while traits associated with femininity are treated with disdain or outright rage (Real, 2007). Over time, these values are internalized. People in the feminine, one‑down position are expected to feel and care without challenging power; people in the masculine, one‑up position are expected to lead without vulnerability. An authentic woman who brings these strands back together—deep feeling and clear, boundaried voice—inevitably disrupts this arrangement.

Gender Socialization: How We Learn to Turn Against Ourselves

To understand why authenticity is so threatening for adult women, it helps to look at how girls and boys are trained out of core human qualities long before they ever enter an organization. Following Carol Gilligan’s (1982, 1993) work, two clusters of capacities become visible: those coded as “feminine”—emotional awareness, relational attunement, care, and an ethic of responsiveness to others—and those coded as “masculine”—agency, assertiveness, independent judgment, and the capacity to speak and act from one’s own moral understanding.

Gilligan’s longitudinal research shows that young children begin life with both sets of qualities available: they are emotionally intelligent, relationally aware, and capable of clear, self‑anchored speech (Gilligan, 1993, 2011). Four‑year‑olds are often attentive, direct, and emotionally articulate with both peers and adults: they notice when something feels off, they ask about it, and they respond from a place of genuine care. The basic ingredients for empathy, truth‑telling, and connection are there from the start.

The timelines diverge after that. Gilligan and colleagues report that boys are cut off earliest. Between roughly four and seven, many boys begin to turn away from this openhearted, emotionally intelligent stance. In research following boys across these years, observers noted that they became more distracted, less verbally clear about their feelings, less authentic, and more indirect in their interactions. The boys themselves understood why: to be seen as “one of the boys,” as a “real” boy and not “girly” or “gay,” they had to hide what they felt and knew. In other words, patriarchy demands that boys disown their relational intelligence just as it is coming fully online (Gilligan, 2011). The emotionally clueless man many women meet later is often the same boy whose sensitivity was shamed and shut down before age seven.

Girls are allowed to keep more of their relational voice a bit longer. Up through late childhood, many girls still trust what they feel and see. They will say, in plain language, when something feels unfair, unsafe, or false, and they can link that judgment to their own lived experience. Gilligan’s classic research shows that nine‑, ten‑, and eleven‑year‑old girls will name what they see and feel, including about injustice and hypocrisy, in a way that is both honest and relationally aware (Gilligan, 1993). Then, around early adolescence, that voice hits a wall. The outspoken, reality‑based girl is suddenly recast as rude, stupid, “too much,” or crazy. At this point, we see a sharp rise in depression, eating disorders, self‑harm, and the characteristic “I don’t know” answer: “don’t” slips between “I” and “know.” Girls learn that to stay connected and safe, they must stop trusting what they know from experience—especially about men, power, and harm.

Seen through this lens, the “authentic woman” at work is often someone who has fought her way back to that honest, outspoken 11‑year‑old self. She is reclaiming a voice that patriarchy tried to silence. Likewise, when we ask men to move into vulnerability and relational presence, we are asking them to reconnect with their emotionally intelligent four‑ or five‑year‑old self that was shamed as “girly” and pushed underground. No wonder the system reacts so strongly when these capacities reappear in adulthood. Authentic women and emotionally open men are living reminders of what patriarchy demanded we all sacrifice in order to belong.

Micro-Behaviors: How Authenticity Shows Up Moment to Moment

Authenticity is not only an inner stance; it is visible in small, concrete behaviors that quietly disrupt narcissistic and bullying patterns.

One clear example is how authentic women handle status displays. When a narcissistic coworker or manager interrupts a conversation to brag about a new car, title, or contact, the authentic woman may offer a brief, polite recognition—“That sounds like a nice car”—and then gently redirect her attention back to the initial speaker or task. She does not gush with admiration, but she also does not humiliate the braggart. She simply refuses to collude with the demand that everyone pause to provide ego‑fuel. This modest act of redirection already constitutes a threat in rooms where people are accustomed to rewarding grandiosity. Responding without reinforcing status-seeking is consistent with research on assertiveness as distinct from aggression (Alberti & Emmons, 2017) and disrupts the reinforcement narcissistic individuals seek (Morf & Rhodewalt, 2001).

A similar pattern appears in conflict. When confronted with a toxic comment or unfair criticism, an authentic woman can say, in a steady tone, “I don’t experience it that way,” or “That isn’t accurate from my perspective.” She does not escalate to shouting, and she does not automatically fold into apology and self‑denial. When a situation becomes intolerable—an unsafe meeting, a demeaning social event—she may quietly exit: “I’m not comfortable here, so I’m going to leave now. Thank you for the evening.” These micro-behaviors seem simple on the surface, but in systems that rely on either submission or counter‑attack, they are radically different moves. Patterns of non‑escalatory assertiveness are recognized in behavioral research as disruptive to dysfunctional interpersonal norms (Linehan, 2015).

Authentic women also tend to avoid shaming. Even when they see through narcissistic behavior, they rarely go for the jugular by publicly humiliating the perpetrator. Instead, they steer conversations back to substance, bring others back into the discussion when they are sidelined, and maintain their own dignity. They do not join in gossip or character assassination; if pressed, they may say, “I don’t feel comfortable talking about her when she’s not here,” or simply change the subject. For colleagues used to bonding through tearing others down, this refusal to participate can feel like a moral judgment, even when it is simply boundary‑setting. Patterns of ostracism and relational exclusion are well documented as forms of workplace aggression (Robinson & O’Leary‑Kelly, 1998; Ferris et al., 2008).

These micro-behaviors, minimal validation of grandiosity, gracious exits, refusal to gossip, quiet correction of distortions, are expressions of courage. They are truth‑telling in small, steady doses: “I see what is happening, and I will not pretend it is something else.” For narcissistic or dark‑trait individuals, and for colleagues who have learned to survive by playing along, this kind of everyday truth‑telling is extremely unsettling. Research on the Dark Triad confirms that individuals high in narcissism, Machiavellianism, or psychopathy respond defensively when their control and grandiosity are not reinforced (Paulhus & Williams, 2002).

Clinically, this makes sense. As I describe in my work on workplace narcissism, many bullies and narcissistic leaders are organized around a chronic inner emptiness, a fragile self that depends on external admiration, power, and control to feel intact. Their apparent confidence is often a shell built to protect a self that never received enough mirroring, safety, or love. When such a person encounters a woman whose sense of worth is rooted in her own depths rather than in their approval, it exposes, without words, how brittle their structure really is. Her groundedness becomes a mirror they cannot tolerate, so they attack the mirror rather than question the image (Corbett, 1996).

Courage and Truth‑Telling as Repellent

Because authentic women are anchored in their values, they are more likely over time to name what others are trying not to see. Sometimes this happens in small ways: correcting the record in a meeting, refusing to let a colleague be scapegoated, questioning a “harmless” joke that is actually humiliating. Sometimes it happens in larger ways: documenting abuse, going to HR, whistleblowing, or openly describing the gap between the organization’s stated values and its actual practices. Research on employee voice and moral courage demonstrates that raising concerns carries relational and career risk, particularly when it challenges implicit organizational norms (Detert & Edmondson, 2011; Morrison, 2014).

This kind of truth‑telling acts as a repellent for bullies and narcissists. Once it becomes clear that a woman will not be easily intimidated into silence—and that she can describe events clearly and coherently—dark‑trait individuals experience her as dangerous to their sense of safety and control. They know, consciously or unconsciously, that she is capable of “breaking the spell” they have cast over a team or system. Rather than trying to win her over, they often retreat into contempt, avoidance, or pre‑emptive attack: “She’s too intense,” “She overreacts,” “She’s dramatic,” “She’s not a good fit.” Underneath these phrases lies a simpler reality: She tells the truth in ways they cannot fully contain.

Courage here is not dramatic heroism. It is the daily willingness to stay in contact with one’s own perception and conscience, even when the surrounding system prefers distortion. It is the choice to say, “This isn’t okay for me,” in the face of pressure to comply. That very courage makes authentic women less available as ongoing narcissistic supply—and thus less attractive and more threatening in the long run (Detert & Edmondson, 2011).

Why Authenticity Threatens Bullies and Fragile Systems

As authentic women change how they show up at work, they necessarily change the relational economy. They are less willing to tolerate disrespect, overwork, or ethical breaches. They stop laughing along with the humiliating jokes. They decline to participate in gossip that harms colleagues. They question decisions that quietly violate their values. They begin to say no to “extra” tasks that were never in their job description but were expected of them because they were accommodating.

For leaders and colleagues whose identities are built on control, performance, and image—especially those with narcissistic or other Dark Triad traits—this shift is deeply destabilizing. Research shows that workplace bullies, rather than their targets, tend to score high on narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy, and low on agreeableness and honest‑humility, and that these traits correlate with increased likelihood of bullying behavior (O’Boyle et al., 2012; Nielsen & Einarsen, 2018). Bullying is more likely when such individuals feel their authority, competence, or self‑image is being threatened.

At a personal level, bullies feel their grip slipping. The woman is no longer as responsive to flattery or intimidation. She does not rush to fix, placate, or justify herself as she once did. Her groundedness confronts them with their own dependence on external approval and their own lack of inner anchoring. For some, this evokes envy: “How can she be that steady when I feel so brittle inside?” For others, it evokes rage: “Who does she think she is to act like that?”

Lionel Corbett offers a deeper frame for this intensity. In his work within a Jungian, spiritually informed depth psychology, he suggests that fear of the numinosum, the fear of encounters that could truly transform us, is one of our core anxieties (Corbett, 1996). Numinous experiences tend to touch individuals exactly where we are most defended and wounded, in order to restructure those places. An authentic woman can function as a kind of living numinosum in the workplace: her presence touches colleagues precisely where their own self is fragile, split off, or overbuilt. For people who rely on narcissistic defenses to hold themselves together, this contact feels terrifying. Backlash, undermining, and character attacks then become defensive moves against an inner experience they are not yet able to face.

In Jung’s language, her presence constellates shadow and contrasexual dynamics in others. She brings into the room exactly those traits and longings colleagues have disowned in themselves: their own anger, envy, fear, and desire for a more truthful life. Men may project their inner image of a woman (anima) onto her and then punish her when she does not match it; women who have survived by over‑identifying with a hardened professional animus may experience her as an accusation simply because she lives closer to what they had to cut off. At the same time, she threatens narcissistic inflation by showing that real authority can come from inner alignment rather than from control, charm, or fear. For systems built on denial, role‑compliance, and inflated personas, it is easier to attack or expel such a woman than to let themselves be changed by what she reveals.

At a systemic level, her authenticity uncovers what the organization prefers not to see. When she names unethical practices, signals concerns about abuse, or simply refuses to gloss over harm, she threatens shared illusions: that the culture is “like a family,” that loyalty is always rewarded, that those in power are always acting in good faith. Her presence reveals that the story the system tells about itself does not match the lived reality of those within it (Argyris, 1991; Morrison & Milliken, 2000).

Authentic Women as Targets: Insights from Covert Aggression

In my dissertation on covert aggression and abuse of power by women in U.S. workplaces, this pattern played out with painful clarity. The female targets I interviewed were not randomly selected victims. Across roles and sectors, they shared three core features: they were authentically oriented (in the sense of becoming increasingly unwilling to betray themselves to fit in), highly competent, and widely regarded by those outside the bullying dynamic as professional and trustworthy.

They did not become targets when they were most compliant and self‑erasing. They became targets when they began to say “no,” to question what they had previously tolerated, or to take small steps to live more in line with their values. Their very movement toward authenticity—often supported by therapy and trauma processing—coincided with an escalation of covert attacks: exclusion, gossip, subtle undermining, professional sabotage, rewriting of events, and character assassination framed as concern.

From the perspective of the women who abused power, this makes psychological sense. Many of those perpetrators had adjusted to male‑normed, scarcity‑based cultures by cutting themselves off from their own authenticity. They had learned to survive by playing roles: always agreeable, endlessly loyal upward, harsh and policing downward. They had sacrificed parts of themselves—doubts, misgivings, ethical discomfort—to stay within the circle of power. When an authentic, competent, well‑liked woman appeared in that environment, she represented everything they had had to give up. Her presence stood as a living contradiction of the story that “this is just how you have to be if you want to succeed here.”

In that light, it is not surprising that these women moved pre‑emptively to neutralize the perceived threat. By undermining the authentic woman’s reputation, isolating her, or driving her out, they could preserve both their status and their psychological equilibrium. The cost, borne by the target, was high: anxiety, depression, trauma symptoms, and often the loss of a career path they had worked very hard to build (Zapf & Einarsen, 2005; Ferris et al., 2008).

Image via Unsplash by ThisisEngineering @thisisengineering

Gendered Jealousy and Backlash: Why Authentic Women Are Punished More

The threat authentic women pose is not limited to men. Gendered jealousy from other women is a key part of the picture, and it is rarely just about envy of surface traits. It is often envy of something deeper: the integrated way these women live.

Many women in male‑normed workplaces have survived by splitting themselves in two. They have quieted their doubts, numbed their feelings, hardened their edges, or over‑conformed to expectations of niceness and self‑sacrifice. They have learned that, to stay employed or be promoted, they must either be endlessly accommodating or become “one of the boys,” distancing themselves from other women and suppressing their own needs. In the process, they may feel they have lost contact with who they really are (Kanter, 1977; Ely & Meyerson, 2000).

When such a woman encounters an authentic colleague—someone who is both competent and well-liked, who sets boundaries and is still respected, who is willing to leave situations that violate her values—she is confronted with a painful comparison. The authentic woman embodies a possibility she herself had to relinquish to survive. That can trigger a raw, often unconscious jealousy: “Why does she get to live like that when I couldn’t?” or “If she is right to live this way, what does that say about the choices I made?”

This jealousy is heavily gendered. Research on prejudice toward female leaders shows that women who display agency, assertiveness, and power face disproportionate backlash compared to men for the same behaviours: they are judged as less likable and more “abrasive” and often penalised in evaluations and promotions, a pattern described as the backlash effect (Rudman & Phelan, 2008; Brescoll & Uhlmann, 2008; Heilman & Okimoto, 2007). Studies on fear of backlash among female senior executives show that anticipated punishment leads women to strategically modulate their authenticity—toning down agency and over-emphasising warmth—to avoid sanctions. In that context, an authentic woman who refuses to contort herself in these ways can appear reckless or “dangerous” to women who have coped by complying.

Covert aggression—gossip, exclusion, undermining, joining with powerful men against her—becomes a way to attack the source of that discomfort and to re‑establish the old order in which no woman visibly “has it all” (integrity, competence, and connection). Research on relational aggression supports the idea that indirect social strategies (exclusion, gossip) are often used to manage status and threat in mixed‑gender contexts (Archer, 2004). In my dissertation, this gendered jealousy showed up in the way female perpetrators spoke about their targets: dismissing their calm as “coldness,” their clarity as “rigidity,” their boundaries as “selfishness,” and their competence as “showing off” or “thinking she’s better than everyone.” Underneath those labels was a more basic accusation: “She refuses to play the game I had to play.”

From Personal Failure to Structural Clash

Seen through the lens of individual self‑blame, these experiences are devastating. Many of the women I have worked with and interviewed initially draw the conclusion: “I must have done something wrong. I became more myself, and it cost me my job, my reputation, my health. I should have just stayed quiet.” The surrounding culture often reinforces this message, implicitly or explicitly.

A more integrated view tells a different story. Becoming more authentic through therapy, trauma work, and self‑development is not the problem. The problem is that many workplaces and social systems are still organised around protecting fragile egos, unjust hierarchies, and gendered scripts. When a woman stops colluding with those arrangements, conflict is not only likely but almost inevitable (Morrison & Milliken, 2000; Argyris, 1991).

Naming this at the beginning matters. It allows us to recognise that increased conflict, bullying, or ostracism after a woman becomes more authentic is not proof that she is on the wrong path. It helps us understand that her new way of being threatens both individuals and systems invested in control and denial. It reframes her experience not as personal failure but as evidence of a structural clash between healing and an environment that cannot yet tolerate that level of truth.

At this point, there are two key priorities. First, we must help women sustain their authenticity—encouraging ongoing self‑alignment, identifying risks, fostering support networks, and making thoughtful choices about when and where to be fully themselves. Second, it is essential to continue challenging and transforming systems that treat authenticity as a liability instead of recognizing it as a marker of maturity and integrity.

© 2026 Dr. Kerstin Hecker. All rights reserved. No part of this article may be reproduced, distributed, or used in any form without prior written permission from the author, except for brief quotations with proper citation.

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