The war of bees.

“So lovely to see you!”

“And you both.”

“I love your outfit.”

“Ah thanks!”

“You both always look so good too.”

We’re walking into a meeting. 2pm. Spring, 2025. The head office that looks like a photography studio come bouchée Ad agency. Not a non-profit helping keep WA kids off the streets.

This is not the norm. My experience of working with most women. It is both refreshing and disarming. Meeting the Head of HR for the second time.

Ashamed to admit, I am cynical and cautious. Of women who are “nice.” Sincerely sweet. And switched on. Who want to work together. Not against me or my particular grain.

Because the worst professional cruelty I've experienced was from female peers. Who I assumed were allies.

But turns out were assassins. And spies.

It didn’t start this way. My happiest work memories were from the early 2000’s. Surrounded by leaders, predominately women who kept me in their corners, watched my back. Made me co-captains of their teams. Assessing my then current worth, against future estimated value. They invested generously with interest in my compounding growth.

But.

The world changed. Something shifted. Including how women viewed and treated me.

It wasn’t good. And it didn’t end well. Multiple times.

Over the next 5,478 days.

With an interest rate that plummeted to an all-time low.

In 2008, I secured my first senior management role along with new gender dynamics: more male leaders and senior female peers. I went in as an ally, sister and comrade. In the trenches together, fighting common enemies: stigma, discrimination. Disadvantage.

Until.

The day a mistake was made. And I had to point it out. Along with owning my part in the process. It wasn’t comfortable. Or easy. It wasn’t fun or freeing. It was necessary and expected. From two senior leaders. Peers, who had become friends.

Until. We weren’t.

In fact, she never spoke to me again. Except for the minimal contact she was obliged to make. For 82.3 weeks.

Ironically, this turned out to be the best of the bad behaviour. When the male CEO who headhunted me left, the third of the female Exec. team changed the rules. Seriously upping the game.

After playing nice for 24 months.

I chose to no longer play.

The games lasted for another 13 years. And it got exponentially worse.

Queen Bee Syndrome they call it. It took me 1.5 decades to learn researchers gave it a name. That when women make up less than 15% of leadership, we protect our single seat with our lives. Paradoxically, performance goes up by 5% when we stop stinging each other.

That’s the real win-win. But it exists in a system that forces us to compete and cat-fight. And ultimately lose.

The fight.

Not against the inequities or the system. For more seats at the table.

But with each other.

Which is why it hurts so much.

So can we? Please.

Because there is nothing more inspiring, powerful or important than women working with women.

Just like 291 hours ago when an HR Manager said how lovely it was to see me. And for the first time in what felt like forever.

She believed in me. And I believed her.

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