Jonathan SPO‐SA‐TO. Before you even meet him you are thinking it's totally going to be a different guy. Italian last name, Asian face. What is that story?

It's like picking up this book and saying “Wait a minute. Why is a middle‐aged dude writing a book (which will inevitably make him a target for haters) passionately making the case for gender equity in the workplace? What gives him the right? What makes him special?”

Well, I would argue, Sposato has the right. He has earned it. Jonathan's experiences, starting with the circumstances of his birth, make him very uniquely qualified to address any issues surrounding bias and inequity. He has lived the struggle, and he walks the walk. I often jokingly refer to him as “Asian Obama.”

It's not just that Jonathan is an uber‐successful businessman, founder, investor, husband, and dad who supports women 150 percent. He's really taking on gender workplace inequity as an individual who cares deeply about inclusivity. “Inclusivity” is part of Jonathan's DNA.

Jonathan's whole existence has been about beating the odds. He is someone who has been rejected and accepted throughout his life: separated from his biological father but accepted, loved, and raised by a single mother and later an adopted father. From age 3, Jonathan survived six years without his single mom because she couldn't afford to raise him. When he finally rejoined her in the 1970s, he was brought into and raised in a mixed‐race household and had to learn to fit in.

He had to push his way in through his positivity, charm, openness, inclusivity, and willingness to listen to people and understand where they are coming from and build bridges. It's what made him originally a great entrepreneur.

Jonathan's leadership style focuses on what's best for all involved, what's always a win for all parties. It's been a huge part of his success building great software that people love and great businesses that are successful in their communities because he works hard to understand the community and give them what they care about.

Without Jonathan, our company may not have existed. At first, he couldn't believe my story of being a female CEO consistently rejected for funding. He heard me out and he didn't write it off. He remembered our time together at Microsoft, and, ultimately, he invested in me and our company because he did believe in us. He couldn't let it rest. He couldn't just sit by and accept that a pattern bias of not funding qualified female founders was the norm.

Because Jonathan has dealt firsthand with issues of inclusivity in his own life, any kind of social injustice or inequity is an issue that he will not tolerate in his businesses, on his teams, and in his environments. What he stands for as an individual is inclusivity. Let the best rise to the top no matter who they are. I am perfectly comfortable with having him speak out on behalf of all of us who suffer bias. Although we are primarily talking about women right now, we are in an increasingly diverse culture, and if our products and services and environments are going to reflect who we are, they must be built by all of us.

Jonathan has as much right to tell this story as any one of us, and I'm honored to be included in Jonathan's book.

This book would not have happened without Grace Kahng, who catalyzed the notion that there was a book here. She strategized, congealed, debated, and refined so much of what is BEST about this book. She conducted countless interviews with many people whom I wouldn't have thought to ask, imbued this project with energy, recalibrated my thinking on numerous themes, and bravely authored chapter 7 when i asked her to, as well as helping fix a couple of mine.

Her editorial instincts are nothing short of masterful, refining and reshaping cloddish ideas into those worthy of publication. She is the very model of the kind of effective blended leadership that I speak of, and I honestly don't know how she does what she does so dang well, all the time. She is also, in strength, values, and work ethic, the very embodiment of the kind of “baller women” that this book is about. Anyone would be lucky to have Grace Kahng on her team.

A successful serial entrepreneur and investor in many startups, Jonathan Sposato is chairman and cofounder of GeekWire.com, one of the tech sector's top news sites, and chairman and cofounder of PicMonkey, the world's most fun and popular photo editor.

He also has the distinct honor of being the first person to sell two companies to Google.

In 2016, Jonathan made headlines when he announced he would be the first technology investor to invest only in female‐founded companies moving forward. This put Jonathan in the national spotlight, and he became an honoree of various women‐led organizations such as American Women in Science, Vital Voices, and the University of Washington (“Man of Integrity” award). He has invested in many startups founded by women, such as Pokitdok, Glamhive, GiftStarter, Runway2Street, Poppy, Scout, Vivifi, and others. Jonathan is also a key investor and “Distinguished Entrepreneur in Residence” at the groundbreaking women's co‐working space The Riveter.

Sposato recently handed over the CEO responsibilities of PicMonkey to a successor in order to dedicate himself to the mission of developing, identifying, and promoting more female representation and leadership in business.

Jonathan is also the founder of WeCount.org, the first nonprofit to apply smartphone technologies to help people who are homeless receive items critical to their survival on the streets. Jonathan was awarded the “Innovation and Equity Award” from Seattle's mayor in 2016.

Prior to all this, Jonathan cofounded Picnik.com and created the first profitable online photo subscription service, reaching over 60 million visitors a month. Prior to Picnik, Jonathan founded Phatbits, which went on to become Google Gadgets.

In the early 1990s, Jonathan was a senior manager in Microsoft's consumer division, personally delivering the next level of thought on key Microsoft properties to Chairman Bill Gates and the company's leadership, as well as having been a key player on the first Xbox, the Xbox games business, and various consumer applications that impact millions of users.

Jonathan is a graduate of Whitman College, where he is on the board of trustees.

Sister, Where Art Thou?

Women. Over half of the earth's population, and creators of life for the whole of it. They are our mothers, wives, daughters, and colleagues. Women account for 85 percent of all spending, arguably the expression of true power. And yet, if you survey the landscape of founders who've created the most successful tech companies of recent years—all males. Zuckerberg, Dorsey, Cheskey, Kalanick, Spiegel: captains of Facebook, Twitter, Airbnb, Uber, Snapchat. Revolutionary founders who have created massively valuable companies that affect billions. It clearly appears to be the sport of men.

Is it just a coincidence that there are so few women at the top? Only 24 female CEOs lead America's Fortune 500. And in tech, female‐founded companies are only 3 percent of all startups funded by venture capitalists. Are we to believe that women simply don't create great things? Or should we finally acknowledge that we operate in an unfair system where the path for women in business, leadership, and entrepreneurship is much, much harder. As an angel investor in startup companies I routinely hear amazing pitches from female entrepreneurs. In 2015, I pledged to only invest in tech startups with at least one female cofounder. Yet, in 2017, women are still not getting funded or promoted at the same rate as men, and the refrain from every female entrepreneur is consistent: women are pushing a larger rock up a steeper hill.

Women's lack of power and broader success in technology is simply a microcosm of what's happening in the larger world. Over the years, I've heard a myriad of excuses. It's a pipeline problem. Women aren't good at tech. They just don't think that way. They're too cautious. They aren't risk takers. Of course, that's a bunch of hogwash. Women aren't given equal leadership opportunities. Often, female leaders aren't given the same support their male peers receive to ensure success. But it doesn't have to be that way. We can and must do better.

And the whole “pipeline problem” is an all‐too‐convenient excuse. First, more than half of all college graduates today are women. In the fields of law and medicine, women outnumber men and yet represent just a fraction of the partners and chair positions compared to men. Within STEM degrees in particular, the percentage of female graduates has been steadily approaching 50 percent over the past two decades. Furthermore, the Small Business Administration has estimated that 7.8 million U.S. businesses have been started and are owned by women, representing a stunning 44 percent increase since the 1990s and at twice the growth rate of male‐owned businesses. This is a heartening statistic that testifies to women's strength, vision, and leadership abilities. ¹

I strongly assert that if your company or your team has very few women in the workforce, and few women in positions of leadership, then you are part of the problem I am inviting you to solve.

And what is that problem exactly? The first problem lies in the fact that men in positions of power (venture, boardrooms, C‐suites, management) may not be acknowledging that a problem actually exists. Some believe we live in a meritocracy. “See? There are no women leaders at my company because so few have earned it!” And many acknowledge there is a problem, but just don't know what to do.

I believe that we must all take responsibility for our role in this situation. All of us. That includes the men in power who don't recognize the problem or take concrete actions to solve it. It includes a few women who likewise refuse to see how they might harbor their own unconscious biases against other women. It includes everyone at every level, in the tech industry and in all industries, who still sees women's lack of power and opportunity as a problem with their innate abilities rather than the result of conscious/unconscious bias and cultural and institutional barriers.

The goal of this book is to provide managers, CEOs, board members, and business owners a blueprint to attract, recruit, hire, and build a sustainable gender‐balanced workforce at all levels. It's not only the right thing to do, it's the smart thing to do.

1. You will learn how to create a gender‐balanced team, workforce, or company.
2. You will become fully informed on all issues of gender equity, gaining a holistic view based on recent gender communication research, latest recruitment practices, history of gender legislation to date and how it impacts industry, as well as firsthand insights drawn from individuals' making current headlines on gender issues.
3. You will become a better leader, helming a gender‐balanced workforce that creates better products, increasing profitability, improving retention, and reducing costs. Learning how to create a gender‐balanced workforce by reading this book is simply great for the bottom line.
4. With women driving about 85 percent of all purchasing decisions in the United States, it's critical for companies to give women a greater seat at the table when it comes to every aspect of their operations. And, as we'll discuss, your business will improve markedly with more women on staff and in power.

What Do I Know about Women?

Of course, the next obvious question is, “Why me?” Why is a 50‐year‐old male entrepreneur and CEO penning a book about women? When I became the first person to sell two tech companies to Google (I was more lucky than good), I saw how my own gender‐balanced teams of men and women outperformed other companies. One of those companies, Picnik.com, was a photo‐editing service that captured more than 60 million unique users a month at its peak. I assert Picnik's success was the direct result of our near 50‐50 female‐male team composition. The gender balance contributed to the “special sauce” and collaborative environment that birthed a beautifully executed product that resonated at scale. Bottom line: in my experience, when women and men work together as equals the products and services they create are simply much better.

Today the tech industry does not look like America, and that has a significant influence on the types of products and services that get created. When the lived experience of underrepresented communities is omitted from the product development cycle, the usefulness of the technology becomes biased towards one group. —The Kapor Capital Founders' Commitment

GeekWire.com, a technology news site that I financed and cofounded with two much more brilliant partners in 2009, grew to millions in page views a month and more than 10 tentpole events annually in just its third year (we're now in our seventh), exactly because great care was taken to write technology stories that are relevant to everyone (not just male tech employees) and to make each of our events highly female friendly. Our intent was to “do tech differently.” It is no surprise that our events are routinely remarked upon as the most gender inclusive in tech with industry high percentages of female speakers and attendees.

When women are present, great things happen. Recent research conducted by Credit Suisse indicates that shares of companies in which women make up more than 33 percent of senior management roles had a higher average annualized return (25.6 percent vs. 22 percent) than companies with only 25 percent female managers. The Peterson Institute of International Economics reports in a 2016 study that having at least 30 percent of women in leadership positions, or the C‐suite, adds another 6 percent to net profit margin. Even more astounding, data from Quontopian, a trading platform based on crowdsourced algorithms, shows that the 80 female CEOs they followed during a 12‐year study (2002–2014) produced equity returns 226 percent better than the S&P 500. All in all, the research shows that teams and management exhibiting greater gender balance outperform more homogeneous ones.

It's Personal

Another reason I'm writing this book is much more personal. As a child born out of wedlock in the 1960s, I witnessed the struggles of my immigrant single mother trying to juggle raising a child, hold a full‐time job, and earn the respect of her male colleagues. Ultimately, she felt she was failing me. When I was 3 years old, one of my few early memories is watching my mother's face disappear from the backseat of a NYC Yellow Cab. She sent me to Hong Kong to live with my maternal grandparents and strangers that I had never met.

“It was the most difficult decision of my life and I have to live with that pain for every day of my life,” my mother recently shared. I try not to discuss the past with her in part because what lives and breathes in the unspoken absence of time between us still holds a great deal of power and sorrow.

Born in Hong Kong in 1938 as the oldest of five children, my mother Helena left home at the age of 17 for London seeking to create a better future for herself. This was an extremely bold life choice for a teenage girl at that time. She made that decision because she knew that a Chinese girl in the twentieth century exists to first serve her parents and later, a husband. She experienced and understood the great disadvantage that many Asian women experience as a result of gender. She says that despite being the oldest child, her youngest brother enjoyed a higher status than she did. He was sent to a better school, held in higher regard by their parents, and was the designated heir to the family textiles business. For my mother, going West was a way to eschew the old world for a more progressive and fuller life. An education in London or New York represented not only a ticket out of Hong Kong but an escape from a sexist system where girls and women could never get ahead.

My mother says even though she excelled at her work as a nurse, it wasn't a career she necessarily enjoyed because of the lack of respect nurses were afforded by the male doctors and medical staff. It was under these circumstances that she found herself pregnant by a young resident. Instead of asking family friends and relatives in New York City for help, Helena quietly disappeared to London to give birth. When she returned to New York City she did her best to cope with working full time and raising a son. But the burden of being a single working parent with no family support in a foreign country proved too much. My mother says that as my grandmother whisked me away in that cab, my screams and tears nearly broke her.

It would be six long years before my mother would hold my face again.

With great love and admiration for my grandparents who provided me with a loving home and a rigorous parochial education at Rosary Hill Academy in Hong Kong, I often joke that I was an American kid from Brooklyn going to a British school full of Chinese kids being taught how to sing in broken‐English by Spanish nuns. I think I was the embodiment of an “outsider.” It didn't help my keen awareness that I was very different or “less than,” that my classmates would question why my “parents” were so old or constantly ask where my parents were. These were not questions I could answer because I wondered the same thing.

By the time I returned to America, my mother had established her nursing career, married a good man with a master's degree in hospital administration from Princeton, and bought a house. She says that she didn't feel that she could send for me until she had achieved her vision of the American dream of creating a stable home. These early experiences made me pay attention to women's struggles.

***

In addition to my mother's own trials, I also saw the challenges endured by my Aunt Bette, a female entrepreneur in Silicon Valley in the early 1980s when there were few entrepreneurs of any gender. Back then, entrepreneurs were known as oddballs who opted out of the norm of the corporate world.

There was no playbook for her, except for one to be a dutiful wife and daughter. She had no role model for a female CEO. She had to break one mold and create a whole new one. She partnered with her husband, my industrious uncle Patrick, to start a computer hardware assembly and testing company. The company eventually grew to supply many of Silicon Valley's brand‐name manufacturers as well as multinational operations overseas. Her charisma with clients, approachable demeanor with employees, and focused ambition were the key reasons their business thrived when others failed. Of course, my incomparable Uncle Patrick also played a role in the company's success. After quitting his job at IBM, he worked tirelessly for a year as a real estate agent in order to scrape together the $100,000 they would need for seed capital. As a young teen working summers at their plant, I became convinced that the combination of very uniquely male and female skill sets made them a winning team. They were “better together.”

Last, I'm also writing this book because I had to overcome odds as an “outsider,” too. Growing up Asian in an all‐white, working‐class community of Edmonds, Washington, in the 1970s brought stigma and shame in an America that had just endured three brutal wars against the “yellow man.” I remember being kicked off of my bicycle and being spat on by a stranger who shouted: “My brother died in 'Nam!” Being called every racial slur except for the correct one was commonplace during my awkward tween years, and after a while I stopped correcting them.

No one at my school looked like me. TV and comic books offered no solace either. The only Asians in the media were Don Ho, Connie Chung, and later Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid. And while being an Asian girl might have granted one greater social mobility, to be an Asian boy meant an entire childhood of playing the role of the “Indian,” the “Viet Cong,” or “the bad guy” on the playground. I realized I would never be Captain America. And in all this, I began to understand the system of currency at work—a system of currency that I would later put to work in my favor.

As I grew older, I recognized that I might be living in a slightly rigged system, where certain people got ahead much more easily, while others didn't have as good a chance. I watched as my friends' fathers did business with their golfing friends or their families would take vacations together. Yet my interracial parents were never invited.

I understood that getting into a good school meant scoring high on the SATs, with a letter of recommendation from a pillar of the community. But most immigrant children didn't know words of the privileged like “vestibule” or “foyer,” and even lesser connection with community influencers. It was as if the system helped the privileged maintain privilege. To this day, the United States is the only country in the world where it's easier to get into a top‐10 institution if one of your parents happened to go there. A rigged system indeed.

In adulthood, I again felt like an outsider because I didn't fit the standard mold—the type A male boss. I was often told early in my career I was “too nice,” “too people oriented,” “over focused on consensus,” and needed to be more of an “ass kicker.” And, yet, I would eventually attain more success than I deserved, through an inspiring leadership style that incorporated both results‐driven and nurturing qualities.

I assumed as time passed and people evolved that the world would just get better and better for women. But with headline after headline detailing the ridiculous behavior of individual men toward female colleagues or woeful statistics on the gender pay gap or lack of female executives, it's tough not to be seriously discouraged about the lack of progress. As an angel investor in many tech startups, female entrepreneurs have shared disheartening and sexist stories about their struggles to raise the same amount of money as their male counterparts but always falling short or never getting started at all. This is not fair, not today.

I know that some may see me as unfairly characterizing men as the bad guys, impugning all white men or all men with certain titles or all women who don't consider themselves feminists. That's not my intention. I believe we're all inheritors of a broken system that we did not ourselves create. But until we step out of its context and take stock of how a flawed system is sustained by our inaction, we're all guilty parties to its continuance—myself included. It's like being inside the matrix, you don't know how bad it is until someone unplugs you. But first YOU have to take the red pill.

As someone who understands firsthand how cultural norms and unjust stereotypes can hold people back, I feel strongly about helping to fix the problem. If we are to finally carry the ball over the goal line regarding gender equality, we need to change our culture, processes, and even our national priorities. In the same way that attitudes about climate change, same‐sex marriage, and civil rights have all made a radical about‐face, companies and political leaders need to think differently and adopt an active strategy to take much bigger steps toward the goal of gender equity. This can only happen when boardrooms, CEOs, investors, and recruiters acknowledge and address the problem. While some have started to at the margins, most of corporate America is still vastly behind. I write this as a call to action for all of us, men and women, to join together in the fight for gender equity. We can be better together.

I Know We Can Do Better

The tech sector I come from is merely a contemporary reflection of decades‐old problems with gender equality and women's rights across all business segments. I write this book because I know we can all do better. I write this book because I know how we can do better. And I write this book because it is time for the hard truths to be acknowledged, for the hard work to begin. And that's what's most beautiful about America I think. We have an unstoppable talent as Americans to retool, reinvent, reboot, and adapt. Let's be “better together.”

Straight Talk: “Ask yourself why you use the phrase “working mother” but never use that phrase to describe “working father.” Why do we need to call out working mothers differently? Or even acknowledge they're moms when we rarely do that for men? Yes, it could be said with good intentions, but I believe it's heard by others as the woman having diminished capacity and priority. I feel like what happens in the workplace today is more subtle or said in code, given a somewhat heightened awareness and training about gender equality.”