Break The Glass Ceiling Quotes

We have no interest in breaking the glass ceiling while leaving the vast majority to clean up the shards. Far from celebrating women CEOs who occupy corner offices, we want to get rid of CEOs and corner offices.

But in every way, the shared metaphors we use of female access to power - 'knocking on the door', 'storming the citadel', 'smashing the glass ceiling', or just giving them a 'leg up' - underline female exteriority. Women in power are seen as breaking down barriers, or alternatively as taking something to which they are not quite entitled.

When you break through a glass ceiling, you're going to get cut, and it's going to hurt.

As a culture, we love a celebration. We love a first. We hold them high. We all marvel at headlines and highlight reels. But we rarely discuss the marks and scars and bruises that come with breaking through glass ceilings.

Don’t aim to break the glass ceiling; aim to shatter it.

We can all deliver the final hit needed to break the glass ceiling in order to achieve complete gender liberation.

And, yes, I’m all about independence and women running the world, but there’s something to be said about breaking the glass ceiling during the day and coming home to a man who’ll do everything in his power to remind you exactly who you belong to.

We can continue to say to our girls as they grow into women, 'Come up here and scrunch under this glass ceiling with me.' Or we can say to them, 'Let me break this ceiling so when you come up here with me, we can stand up straight under the open sky.

The question is, are you going to grow or are you going to just stay as you are out of fear and waste your precious human life by status quo-ing instead of being willing to break the sound barrier? Break the glass ceiling, or whatever it is in your own life? Are you willing to go forward? I suggest finding the willingness to go forward instead of staying still, which is essentially going backward, particularly when you have a calling in some direction. That calling needs to be answered. And it’s not necessarily going to work out the way you want it to work out, but it is taking you forward, and you are leaving the nest. And that never can be a mistake—to fly instead of staying in the nest with all the poop and everything that’s in there. TS:

Between Friday evening and Sunday afternoon, I broke into a total of six offices, one penthouse suite and a small bank, and cursed them all. I cursed the stones they were built on, the bricks in their walls, the paint on their ceilings, the carpets on their floors. I cursed the nylon chairs to give their owners little electric shocks, I cursed the markers to squeak on the whiteboard, the hinges to rust, the glass to run, the windows to stick, the fans to whir, the chairs to break, the computers to crash, the papers to crease, the pens to smear; I cursed the pipes to leak, the coolers to drip, the pictures to sag, the phones to crackle and the wires to spark. And we enjoyed it.

A Hillary Clinton presidency would symbolically break the glass ceiling for women in the United States, but it would be unlikely to break through the military-industrial complex that has been keeping our nation in a perpetual state of war--killing people around the world, many of them women and children.

I stepped out of the box because I'm a woman who breaks locks. I break glass ceilings too, the sky knows my flair, boo. Where you see the word 'groundbreaking', know it's me being breathtaking. I'm a woman; I gave birth to all men.

Scale the heights of your career and break that glass ceiling, but do it very quietly and gingerly, and be sure to make a man think he did it for you.

Breaking through the glass ceiling is only possible if you are stronger than glass.

Women in business are not just breaking glass ceilings; they are building new foundations.

...if I have a daughter I will tell her she can do anything, and I will mean it, because I have no other intention of informing her otherwise. As my mother did with me, and my mother's mother before her, I shall simply hide the truth from her. I will tell her that despite what others may whisper, there is no difference between her and any boy. I will tell her to work her hardest and try her best. And that if one day she looks around and finds that, despite her very best efforts, lesser men have superseded her, then she probably could have done better. These words may not be true, nor will they be fair, but I would hope that they ensure she never becomes a victim of her own femininity. I hope she will be empowered to pick herself up, study harder, work longer, and exceed her own expectations. I don't want my daughter to break any glass ceilings. I'd rather she never even contemplated their existence. Because glass ceilings, closed doors, and boys clubs are notions, they're ideas, and they're not tangible. You can't see, touch, or feel them. They can only exercise power over us if we choose to believe in them. So why lay down your own gauntlet? The cliche rings true, if you reach for the moon, you might just land on the stars. Throw a glass ceiling into the works, and it can only get in the way. And I suspect that deep down, every woman who ever truly excelled thought exactly this way. I doubt they ever gave much thought to the fact that they are women. I think they just really wanted to rock out. And they did; louder, harder, and better than anyone else around them. And at some point down the line, enough people took note.

As a culture, we love a celebration. We love a first. We hold them high. We all marvel at headlines and highlight reels. But we rarely discuss the marks and scars that bruises that come with breaking through glass ceilings

You are rare and unique. Let yourself be flawed. Go proudly and confidently into the world with your blinding hues to show everyone who's boss and break every glass ceiling that still remains. - Speech by Tala Nashawati to the Wellesley class of 2017

What did she say to you?" "Nothing." "Oh, great. I have to try to get you out of this mess after you hit a girl for nothing," he whispered angrily. "Josephine, don't waste my time. You don't seem like a violent type. She had to have said something to rile you. "I just don't like her. She's vain. She puts her hair all over my books when she sits in front of me in class." "So you hit her?" "No ... yes." "A girl puts her hair all over your books, so you break her nose?" "Well, I don't think it's broken, personally." "Doctor Kildare, we are not here to give a medical opinion. I want to know what she said to you." "God," I yelled exasperated. "She said something to upset me, okay?" "What? That you were ugly? That you smell? What?" I looked horrified. "I'm not ugly. I don't smell." He sighed and took off his glasses, sitting down in front of me and pulling my chair towards him. "I was just asking for a reason." "Never mind," I said. "That creep out there wants -you to pay for his daughter's nose-job. Because of that nose-job she will be a famous model one day and you'll be working in a fast-food chain because you couldn't finish your Higher School Certificate due to expulsion. Now tell me what she said." "There's nothing wrong with a fast-food chain," I said, thinking of my McDonald's job. "I'm really getting pissed off now, Josephine. You called me out of work for this and you won't tell me why." "Just go," I said, as he stood up and paced the room. "I'll defend myself in court." He groaned and looked up to the ceiling pulling his hair. "God save me from days like this," he begged. "Go," I yelled. "Okay. Let him win. He's a creep. Creeps always win," he said walking to the door. "But don't think you're going to make it in a court room, young lady. If you can't be honest, don't expect to stand up in a court room and defend honesty." "She called me a wog, amongst other things," I said, finally. "I haven't been called one for so long. It offended me. It made me feel pathetic." "Did you provoke her?" "Yes. I called her a racist pig due to some things she was saying." "Is she one?" "God, yes. The biggest.

Something Rich and Strange She takes a step and the water rises higher on her knees. Four more steps, she tells herself. Just four more and I'll turn back. She takes another step and the bottom is no longer there and she is being shoved downstream and she does not panic because she has passed the Red Cross courses. The water shallows and her face breaks the surface and she breathes deep. She tries to turn her body so she won' t hit her head on a rock and for the first time she's afraid and she's suddenly back underwater and hears the rush of water against her ears. She tries to hold her breath but her knee smashes against a boulder and she gasps in pain and water pours into her mouth. Then for a few moments the water pools and slows. She rises coughing up water, gasping air, her feet dragging the bottom like an anchor trying to snag waterlogged wood or rock jut and as the current quickens again she sees her family running along the shore and she knows they are shouting her name though she cannot hear them and as the current turns her she hears the falls and knows there is nothing that will keep from it as the current quickens and quickens and another rock smashes against her knee but she hardly feels it as she snatches another breath and she feels the river fall and she falls with it as water whitens around her and she falls deep into the whiteness and she rises her head scrapes against a rock ceiling and the water holds her there and she tells herself don't breathe but the need rises inside her beginning in the upper stomach then up through her chest and throat and as that need reaches her mouth her mouth and nose open and the lungs explode in pain and then the pain is gone as bright colors shatter around her like glass shards, and she remembers her sixth-grade science class, the gurgle of the aquarium at the back of the room, the smell of chalk dust that morning the teacher held a prism out the window so it might fill with color, and she has a final, beautiful thought - that she is now inside that prism and knows something even the teacher does not know, that the prism's colors are voices, voices that swirl around her head like a crown, and at that moment her arms and legs she did not even know were flailing cease and she becomes part of the river.

All the women, white or black or brown, who woke up like this, who came before me in this town. Think of them. Heads up, eyes on the target. Running. Full speed. Gravity be damned. Toward that thick layer of glass that is the ceiling. Running, full speed, and crashing. Crashing into that ceiling and falling back. Crashing into it and falling back. Into it and falling back. Woman after woman. Each one running and each one crashing. And everyone falling. How many women had to hit that glass before the first crack appeared? How many cuts did they get, how many bruises? How hard did they have to hit the ceiling? How many women had to hit that glass to ripple it, to send out a thousand hairline fractures? How many women had to hit that glass before the pressure of their effort caused it to evolve from a thick pane of glass into just a thin sheet of splintered ice? So that when it was my turn to run, it didn’t even look like a ceiling anymore. I mean, the wind was already whistling through—I could always feel it on my face. And there were all these holes giving me a perfect view to the other side. I didn’t even notice the gravity, I think it had already worn itself away. So I didn’t have to fight as hard. I had time to study the cracks. I had time to decide where the air felt the rarest, where the wind was the coolest, where the view was the most soaring. I picked my spot in the glass and I called it my target. And I ran. And when I finally hit that ceiling, it just exploded into dust. Like that. My sisters who went before me had already handled it. No cuts. No bruises. No bleeding. Making it through the glass ceiling to the other side was simply a matter of running on a path created by every other woman’s footprints. I just hit at exactly the right time in exactly the right spot. So I’m breaking my family’s rule today. This is a trophy for participation. And I am beyond honored and proud to receive it. Because this? Was a group effort. Thank you to all the women in this room. Thank you to all the women who never made it into this room. And thank you to all the women who will hopefully fill a room one hundred times this size when we are all gone. You are all an inspiration.

In the words of Secretary Clinton, never doubt that you are valuable and powerful and deserving of every chance in the world to pursue your dreams,” she told the class of 2017. “You are rare and unique. Let yourself be flawed. Go proudly and confidently into the world with your blinding hues to show everyone who’s boss and break every glass ceiling that still remains.

Hillary Rodham Clinton has spent years trying to sell women on the idea that their ambition, rather than hers, will be rewarded if she is elected President of the United States. The idea seems to be that if she “breaks the glass ceiling”, American women en masse will pour through, occupying the upper floors, the attic, even the roof. But do we need to “prove” that a woman can be president? If women can be wrestlers, for which they are clearly not naturally qualified, a woman can certainly be President. There is no serious qualification for the office that a woman lacks. Proving this fairly obvious point is not the most crucial issue at stake in the next U.S. Presidential election. There is also the little matter of whether or not to lead the country into war with a major nuclear power. Avoiding World War III is somewhat more urgent than “proving” that a woman can be President of the United States.

What we can take away from this data is that most STEM training will get students a good income at the starting gate and a decent career. But powerful earners—the people running the show, breaking through the glass ceilings, and changing the world—tend to have liberal arts degrees. This

I’m all for equality, but until the glass ceiling breaks and women make the same as men, dollar for dollar, I’ll be the one buying.

Gaming is my jam. It’s my total escape. It’s where I really get to be me: to be in control, to be a fighter, to break glass ceilings, to be a powerhouse.

When you hit a glass ceiling, Break it into small pieces, And then walk confidently your stilettos

When you hit a glass ceiling, Just don't knock on it, Break it into small pieces, And then walk confidently in your stilettos

Break the glass, No more second class

Strong women are the architects of their destinies, the CEOs of their lives, and the superheroes of their own stories. They don't just break glass ceilings; they shatter them with style. Their sass is their superpower, and their laughter is their battle cry. From juggling responsibilities to sparkling kindness like glitter, they do it all with flair and finesse. So, here's to the strong women; you make the world a better place!

Leave the train!” More soldiers meet Fez and his loyal companion, “This way,” one shouts, “step into the circle!” Fez glances down, at a large circle scribed into the ground, and walks into the centre with Gnash skittering in behind him, at which point he addresses the soldiers. “Did you know the philosopher Gurdjieff wrote about his encounters with the Yezidis—how he once saw a Yezidi boy distraught, struggling to break out of a circle drawn in the ground by other boys. Try as he might the boy just couldn’t step outside of the circle. The other boys teased and taunted him until Gurdjieff erased part of the circle, whereby the boy was able to escape. Perhaps the philosopher wants us to think carefully about the Yezidis—perhaps you should think carefully about me.” Out of the floor a circular glass wall made of toughened glass shoots up, stopping at a circular lip in the ceiling, trapping them like a ship in a bottle. “A prison—how quaint, never been in a prison before. When do I get my medication?” No one answers, but Fez spies a security camera in the ceiling and stares into its lens. “You think that I think you can’t hear me, but I know that you don’t know I can.” “What’s he on about?” one of the operators asks in the control room. “Something about us hearing him.

Look at her, Breaking ceilings in her high heel boots and shattering glass. She's confident and she's determined. Let her be!

Our answer to lean-in feminism is kick-back feminism. We have no interest in breaking the glass ceiling while leaving the vast majority to clean up the shards. Far from celebrating women CEOs who occupy corner offices, we want to get rid of CEOs and corner offices.

On those Female Engagement Teams, I’d had my own experiences of being out front, forging a path for women, hoping to maybe break the glass ceiling, but always coming just a bit short. When will it change for us? I wondered. Would it ever? The cracks were forming, everywhere, but it was still painfully, inexcusably slow.

I hated doing NEW things because of their disruptive tendencies. I detested the vulnerability that often goes with stepping out of my comfort zone. That was until I discovered that NEW is an invitation to Never Ending Wonders. Now, I am eager to create or embrace the NEW and ride on the back of its vulnerability to push the frontiers and break the glass ceilings.

I don’t want to pretend that breaking race and gender glass ceilings is meaningless. It’s not. I loved that the first president my kids knew was a black man. It does make a difference to see people of color and women in leadership roles. But if those people pursue the same racist, classist, elitist, crappy policies of their white brothers and sisters, well, it is not really change we can believe in, is it?

Today I celebrate women who are: Vulnerable but strong. Sensitive but assertive. Always learning but intelligent. Scared but brave. Victims but survivors. Helpless but selfless. Heartbroken but healers. Women who break glass-ceilings & barriers. I see you. I am with you. I am you.

They said it was a mystery until someone acquired the necessary knowledge and experience to make it an open book. They said it was impossible until someone defied the odds and did it. Our world is filled with many imitators and few initiators because we listen more to others than to the gentle inner voice urging us to believe the impossible and do the unthinkable. Ultimately, breaking the glass ceiling is about who you are listening to.

A college degree does not automatically bespeak wisdom and opportunities. It simply represents perseverance.

While we remember Dr. King’s legacy, I recall his iconic “I have a dream” speech. Understanding we must make time to propel that dream into existence for every little boy and girl that Dr. King dreamt of then, and for those that we pray for now. We must know that there will come a day when Dr. King’s dream won’t only be remembered to honor his birthday. No, it’s bigger than that. It will be described as the catalyst to all that heed the call to action and bridged the future of equality and equity. His words will be the wind beneath the wings of every boy, girl, man, and woman as they soar upward breaking through every glass ceiling of uncertainty and impossibility. Realizing they are Dr. King’s dream fulfilled.