🎙️The Silent Struggle of Being the Only Woman on a Tech Panel

Being the only woman on a tech panel is its own special kind of exhausting.

You know the setup: You've prepared for weeks. You're sitting there—either in person or Zoom-ready—surrounded by guys in hoodies debating blockchain like their fantasy football league depends on it. Meanwhile, you're the "diversity hire," quietly wondering whether anyone actually wants to hear what you have to say or if you're just there so they can check a box.

It's this weird, quiet fight where you're not just trying to contribute—you're trying to be heard without getting interrupted, dismissed, or turned into the token woman who gets asked about "soft skills" while the men debate architecture.

I'm not here to throw a pity party though. I want to talk about how to actually deal with this, and maybe even flip it in your favor.

Why does it feel so isolating?

Here's a scene from my life: Last year I was on a cybersecurity panel with four other people, all men. I made a point about ethical AI in threat detection—something I'd actually researched and thought through. Silence. Then one of the guys basically repeated what I said two minutes later, and suddenly it was the most insightful thing anyone had ever heard.

If you've been there, you know the eye-roll.

This happens because panels just amplify what's already broken in tech. Women are still only about 25% of the industry (McKinsey's numbers, not mine). So we're usually the outlier in any given room. That translates into subtle stuff—getting the "soft" questions about team culture while the men get asked about technical deep-dives. Or getting talked over constantly. There's actually a Yale study showing women get interrupted 70% more than men in these settings.

It wears you down. You start wondering if your voice even matters. But recognizing the pattern is the first step to doing something about it.

Some horror stories (names withheld)

One woman I know got introduced as "our lovely panelist" while the men were called "experts in quantum computing." Lovely. As if she was there to be decorative.

Another friend prepped an entire presentation on machine learning ethics—real substance—and the moderator pivoted to ask her about work-life balance as a woman in tech. You could practically hear her soul leave her body.

These moments hurt because they undermine everything you've worked for. You show up with expertise and get treated like a curiosity.

But here's the thing: you can redirect. When someone asks you the "woman question" instead of the real question, you can smile and say something like, "Actually, let's talk about balance in algorithms—fairness is something I think about a lot in my work." You've steered it back without making a scene, and you've reasserted that you're there for your brain, not your demographic.

What actually helps

Own your intro. Don't wait for someone else to frame who you are. Prepare a sentence that makes it clear why you're there: "I work on X, and I've spent the last few years focused on Y." Not aggressive, just clear. It sets the tone that you're an authority, not a guest appearance.

Get comfortable interrupting. Not rudely—but when someone talks over you or restates your point, practice saying things like, "Building on that—here's what I found in my recent work..." It's polite, but it takes the floor back. Practice this out loud before the panel. It feels awkward until it doesn't.

Find allies beforehand. Look up the other panelists on LinkedIn. If someone seems reasonable, send them a quick message: "Looking forward to the panel—loved your recent post on X. Would be great to connect." Sometimes just having one person in the room who's inclined to back you up changes the whole dynamic.

The emotional side

I'd be lying if I said the imposter syndrome doesn't creep in. That voice asking, "Do they even want my opinion?" is real.

Here's what helps me: remembering that diverse panels actually produce better conversations. Harvard Business Review found that having women on panels improves discussion quality by about 30%. You're not there as a favor to them—you're there because you make it better.

Also, panels are kind of like improv. Things go sideways. Someone asks a weird question. The moderator loses the thread. Roll with it. If something unexpected comes up, you can say, "That's an interesting angle—it reminds me of a situation I dealt with last year..." and suddenly you're telling a story instead of defending your right to exist.

After the panel

This part matters more than people realize. Send follow-up emails to people you connected with: "Great talking with you—here's that resource I mentioned." It keeps you in their head. It opens doors to the next opportunity.

Every panel is practice for the one where you're the headliner. The discomfort now is building toward something.

If any of this resonated, here's a week of concrete things you can do. Pick at least three.

Monday: Figure out what you'd talk about.
Spend 30 minutes looking at your own work and experience. What are 3-5 topics you could actually speak on? "Bias in AI development," "building technical teams," whatever fits your world. Then find one upcoming panel or meetup (Eventbrite, Meetup, LinkedIn events) and apply to speak. Use a simple pitch: "Hi, I'd love to contribute my perspective on [topic]—here's a quick bio." Even if it feels premature, apply anyway.

Tuesday: Practice interrupting gracefully.
Grab a friend or just record yourself. Have them (or imagine them) talking over you, then practice your redirect: "That's a good point—here's what I've seen..." Keep it under 10 seconds. Do this twice. It'll feel silly, but when it happens for real, your mouth will know what to do.

Wednesday: Reach out to potential allies.
Find 2-3 people in your field on LinkedIn or Twitter. Send a short message: "Hey, enjoyed your take on X. If we end up on panels together, would love to connect on amplifying each other's work." Even one response can lead to a recommendation or a heads-up about opportunities.

Thursday: Do some mental prep.
Spend 10 minutes visualizing a panel going well. You're making a point, people are nodding, you feel solid. This sounds woo-woo but it actually helps with nerves. Pair it with some affirmations if that's your thing—"I know my stuff and I deserve to be here" type of thing.

Friday: Practice follow-up.
If you've done a panel recently, send follow-up notes to people you talked to. If not, draft a template you can use next time. This habit turns one-off appearances into relationships.

Weekend: Get reps in public.
Join a virtual meetup or Toastmasters session. Give a 2-minute take on something you know. Notice what felt good, what felt shaky. Tweak for next time.

The discomfort of being the only woman in the room doesn't disappear overnight. But every time you speak up, redirect a dumb question, or follow up after a panel, you're building something. Your voice matters—even when the room makes you doubt it.

🌞 Keep Shining,

Barkha