Ambition Doesn’t Look Good on Her

Don Draper, Tony Stark, or Jordan Belfort in The Wolf of Wall Street are men who embody ambition, arrogance, and a disregard for most rules. But, society applauds this, and frames them as heroes of their own stories. Meanwhile, ambitious women are portrayed as outcasts, scheming bosses, and villains. The ‘scheming boss’ archetype can be seen in one prime example, Miranda Priestly or Gone Girl’s Amy Dunne. Their ambition is depicted as something so aberrational, that they both end up lonely and corrupted in the end. 

Ambition, then, has two sides. 

Number 1, the noble drive seen in men. 

Number 2, the questionable hunger observed in women. 

This duality has casted ambition as both a virtue, but as a vice simultaneously. Different traits cast different shadows on different people, and this creates a path for any trait to be both a vice and virtue at the same time. The ambition most commonly observed in women has always been confined by expectations that glorify and label their preconceived roles as caregivers, nurturers, and selfless supporters. The idea of a woman being ambitious (or worse, being open about it) feels like a breach of an unwritten social contract. Ambition in a woman? Unnatural. Suspicious, even. And when a woman chases her goals too openly, she’s often met with side-eye or upfront hostility.

A woman striving to rise in her career, passions, advocates for her ideas, or even takes risks is a defiance against a social order which has always preferred her ambition tucked neatly away. Men have always been celebrated for pushing their goals relentlessly, and their drive has always been worshiped. For them, achievements equal courage. Contrastingly, ambitious women have always been scrutinized for straying away from  the “feminine” virtues of selflessness and humility. 

Has it always been like this?

This double standard isn’t necessarily new, as its roots have been reinforced by centuries of storytelling. Look at Macbeth. Lady Macbeth’s ambition is the driving force behind the play, which prods her husband into seizing the throne. But while Macbeth is treated as undone by ambition, Lady Macbeth is portrayed as manipulative, being a woman who dared to wield power in a realm ruled by men. Lady Macbeth’s eventual downfall isn’t seen as a tragedy, but as karma. The subtext behind Macbeth is clear– ambition in a man is forgivable, but in a woman it is a vice. 

“Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,” Lady Macbeth implores, adjuring to shed the nurturing qualities expected of women in order to participate in a cruel, masculine activity (Shakespeare 1992). Her plea emphasizes the absurd societal belief that ambition and femininity can’t coexist in the same world. In Lady Macbeth’s case, her ambition, her deviation from gender norms, becomes her undoing. This undoing, however, isn’t inevitable solely due to her actions; it’s amplified by a world that refuses to let women hunger for power without labelling them as aberrations. 

And this isn’t just Shakespearean dramas— the way we frame ambition in his plays bleeds directly into real life. Women in the workplace face backlash for behavior that would earn men a promotion. A man takes charge? He’s a leader. A woman takes charge? She’s bossy or difficult. Studies show that for women leaders, likeability and success hardly go hand-in-hand, and that ambitious men are seen as more socially competent (Cooper 2013). Ambition for women is a Catch-22: you can be successful or likeable, but not both. Just like Lady Macbeth, women are told to strive, but not too openly as they risk being cast as the villain of their own story.

This duality doesn’t just hurt women, it holds ambitions’ ability to drive innovation, creativity, and progress back. By discouraging women from going after their goals, we’re benching 3.95 billion capable minds (Dyvik 2024). What would the world look like if ambition wasn’t a gendered characteristic? We’d be unstoppable. Instead, we’re stuck playing small.

How can we change this? 

We must start by changing the stories we tell. We need more characters like Elle Woods from Legally Blonde, whose desire is to succeed in an unapologetically feminine way, to be celebrated. I’d love to be Hermione Granger from Harry Potter, who is ambitious, intelligent, brilliant, and always striving for the best. These women aren’t perfect. They’re messy and flawed, but human still. 

The truth is, ambition isn’t inherently a virtue or a vice— it’s just a tool (or at least it should be viewed as such). What matters most is how we make use of it. Until we give women the same freedom to wield ambition as men, we’re limiting not just their potential, but our own. 

At the end of the day, ambition doesn’t have to “look good” on anyone. A world where ambition exists without apologies or prejudices is a world worth striving for. Here's the most important thing: ambition is a virtue and it's time we start treating it as such, no matter who embodies the trait. 

References

Cooper, Marianne. “For Women Leaders, Likability and Success Hardly Go Hand-in-Hand.” Harvard Business Review, August 7, 2014. https://hbr.org/2013/04/for-women-leaders-likability-a.

Dyvik, Einar H. “Global Population 2022 by Gender.” Statista, July 4, 2024. https://www.statista.com/statistics/1328107/global-population-gender/#:~:text=Of%20the%207.95%20billion%20people,2022%20were%20below%2015%20years. 

Shakespeare, William. “Macbeth.” Wordsworth Classics, 1992.