Showing posts with label technology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label technology. Show all posts

Friday, October 6, 2017

The Gender Gap in Tech: CD Reiss's KING OF CODE

3/40
3/28
2/27
0/16
7/39
2/19

Whenever my significant other, a tech geek who does advanced computer development and research work, attends an academic or commercial conference, he likes to text me the number of people in the audience at each workshop or presentation he attends. That number is always preceded by a much smaller figure: the number of women in each room. Three out of forty. Two out of twenty-seven. Zero out of sixteen. Two out of 19 on stage during three general session meetings. The only room during the conference that had more women, he tells me, was the one in which the "Women in Tech" breakout session was held.

Such numbers are more than a little disheartening, especially for those who like to believe that gender discrimination is far less of a problem in the workplace than it was 50 years ago, or even 20. In some professional fields, such as law, medicine, and the physical sciences, the gender gap has decreased. But not in computer science. In fact, computer science's gender gap has actually increased since 1984:




Why has women's participation in computer science declined over the past thirty five years? Many different reasons have been proposed: the advent of home computers; computer games that focus on competition rather than collaboration; social discourses that code computers as masculine, just to name a few.

In her latest contemporary romance, King of Code, CD Reiss highlights yet another reason—sexism among male computer coders. Our introduction to the book's narrator, Taylor Harden, comes as he's engaged in sex with the sole female employee in his small computer start-up company, in the company supply closet. After he's finished, Taylor muses about the experience:

Raven looked great walking into the hall after she'd just demanded I rip her apart with my cock. I had no feelings about her whatsoever, and that lack was mutual. Working sixteen-hour days in the same office meant we fucked each other or didn't fuck at all. This was why I didn't hire women, besides the fact that they turned nerd IQ points into premature ejaculations. I usually wound up fucking them. But my lawyer had said to hire one, pay her well, and not fuck her. I'd taken two-thirds of the advice. Raven had needs, same as I did. She was so anti-drama, she practically had a dick. (Kindle Loc 173)

I'd like to believe that Reiss was exaggerating Taylor's sexism for dramatic effect. But my spouse was not at all surprised when I described this scene and others that highlighted Taylor's gender stereotyping throughout the opening pages of the novel. Such overt identification with male goals, male feelings, and the male gaze, and the consequent objectification and denigration of anything labeled female and feminine, are all too prevalent in large swaths of the high tech field, his anecdotal evidence suggests. Especially in smaller start-ups, where work environments can feel more like carry overs from a frat house than professional adult spaces, the idea that women are distracting, dangerous and even a potential legal liability is far too often the norm rather than the depressing exception. To be a King of Code, one must banish all potential queens and princesses from the room.

Taylor's start-up is on the verge of making a big public splash with a new, non-binary, and above all non-hackable computer system: " 'Quantum Intelligence Four is pure virgin code.' It bleeds when breached. We said that a lot around the conference table room, but not in front of Mona Rickard," Taylor notes while giving a tour of the up-until-now highly-secret company to Mona and several other reporters from Wired magazine (281). Computer guys may make sexist jokes, and reinforce gender stereotypes, among themselves, but most know better than to say what they really mean in public, especially where a woman such as Mona might hear:

"You're pretty sure of yourself."
     "I'm sure about these guys on the other side of the door."
     "I hear it's all men."
     "I hire the best regardless of gender."
     "And all the best had dicks?"
     Someone on her team snorted with laughter. The elevator doors opened, and I led the group to the cage doors.
     "Google hires all the girls," I said.
     "I'm sure." She folded her pad and pencil against her chest and smiled. We saw right through each other, but she couldn't print what I wouldn't say. (249)

Male techie contempt for "girls" is an open secret in the high tech community, one that many men have learned to talk around, in order to maintain plausible deniability—and to maintain their all-male privilege.

After such an introduction to the sexist Taylor, (female) readers are primed for him to be on the receiving end of some pretty major payback. And payback comes, early and hard, as Taylor's purportedly un-hackable system is hacked—right in front of the eyes of Wired's reporting team.

Luckily for an enraged, humiliated Taylor, his hacker seems just as cocky as he is, leaving a clue in the text of The Complete Sherlock Holmes posted in the comments section of the hacked code: Geohash coordinates. Taylor knows that wherever those coordinates are pointing, he has go to face his tormenter-hacker and force him to give back the keys to the code he's locked Taylor out of.

Taylor's hardly expecting the geohash coordinates to lead him in Nowheresville in the Great State of Nowhere, USA, i.e., Barrington, a down-on-its-heels town economically reeling after the recent closing of its one remaining major employer, a bottling plant. Barrington must be just a stop on the way to some bigger town, Taylor insists; no way could a person with an IQ high enough to hack Taylor's code live in such a dead-end town.

Neither is Taylor expecting to find a woman like Harper in Barrington, a beautiful, sexy girl ready to help him discover the identity of his hacker. Or is she? Things get a little confusing when Taylor gradually gets beyond his own sexist assumptions to see the truth: Harper is not just physically hot, but smart as hell. In fact, it's she, not some faceless geek guy, who is actually his hacker. And Harper has some prior history with Taylor, history that Taylor, in his blinkered, sexist bubble, has found it far more easy to overlook than Harper has.

Just who is Harper? How does she know Taylor? And what does she want from him and from QI4? Quite a few very important things, it turns out, including economic opportunity, lots of hot sex, and a recognition of the needs of small towns like Barrington, towns often overlooked in our shift from an industrial to a communications/service economy. Not to mention a little bit of self-reflection on Taylor's part about how his bro-dude attitudes towards girls and women are less about a common-sense approach to ridiculously restricting political correctness and more about maintaining a space where men are not forced to confront the discrimination against women both past and present upon which their gender privilege rests:

    "Honestly? Can I say something honestly without you destroying my life?" [says Taylor to Harper]
     "Sure. Why not."
     "If I'd noticed you, I would have fucked the shit out of you."
     "Thanks. I think."
     "And if you were in SanJo when I staffed. . . I might have hired you. But the 'wanting to fuck you' thing would have been a problem."
     Her jaw tightened, and her face hardened as if she didn't believe me.
     "That's not comforting," she said.
     "I didn't say it to comfort you."
     "You need to fix that, Taylor. You need to grow up and stop letting your dick run the show. It's pathetic."
     I'd been told that before, but her disgust sent the message right into me. I was ashamed. Deeply ashamed. I carried my cock as if it was the president of the company, and I didn't make any excuses for it, but now I wanted to curl into a ball and think about all the decisions I'd made because of where I wanted to stick it.
     I'd thought I was making sure the workplace was appropriate, but what I'd done was make it safe for the impulses of the least appropriate person: Me.
     And. . . Raven. Of course I'd made sure there was one consenting partner in the office just for me.
     Nice leadership. Real nice. I didn't blame Harper for being disgusted.
     "Yeah. Well. I guess, when you put it that way, you're right." (2559)


Why does it matter whether women go into computer science or not? Because, as Forbes magazine notes in response to the study put out by Girls who Code that first called attention to the gap in high tech, "that gender gap not only impacts women's career prospects and financial lives, but the U.S. economy as a whole. Keeping women on the sidelines means more computer jobs will go unfilled, reducing innovation and global competitiveness. It is already happening: in 2015, there were 500,000 new computing jobs to be filled but fewer than 40,000 new computer science graduates."

Perhaps after reading King of Code, a few more women might be inclined to pursue such jobs.

And perhaps a few more men might stop standing in their way.


Illustration credits:
Women Computer Scientists: Girls Who Code

Without Women, Computer Coding: Women Who Rock Science Tumblr

Why is Silicon Valley So Awful to Women?: The Atlantic

The Case for Computer Science in the Classroom: Robomatter.com







King of Code
Flip City Media, 2017

Friday, June 2, 2017

Romeo or Robot? Penny Reid's DATING-ISH

If you could choose between a human lover, with all the flaws of any typical human being, and an "AIC"—"an Artificial Intelligence Companion," one tailored to your individual preferences and needs, programmed to meet the emotional and physical demands you specifically desire in a romantic partner—which would you pick?

Even the possibility of such a choice sounds fantastic, no? But as Penny Reid's latest Knitting in the City novel, the fiercely smart and hilarious Dating-ish suggests, the day when that choice might be before you may be far closer than you think.

Reporter Marie Harris is on the verge of cancelling her her FindUrParnter.com account when she gets a surprising message: "You and Derek are the perfect match." Wary but hopeful, Marie decides to give Internet dating one final whirl, waiting for her "perfect match" in a local cafe when Dating-ish opens. But the man who finally shows up looks nothing like the fellow Marie "stalked" online. Nor does he seem at all interested in the same things that their dating profiles told her they both "loved." And rather than romancing her after greeting her awkwardly, he instead begins to grill her about her dating preferences, acting as if he, not she, is the reporter.

Or an academic, interviewing women as part of his research for creating the above-mentioned AIC. Not "Derek" at all, but Matt Simmons, Ph.D., computer science nerd. Which Marie finds out only after she ditches the guy in the coffee shop, only to discover later that day that he's the next-door-neighbor of one of the women from her weekly knitting klatch.

Marie and Matt begin to verbally mix it up almost from the minute she discovers that Matt's research is focused on developing a "Compassion AI—as a replacement for human relationships" (35). Marie, along with most of her knitting friends, finds the idea deeply creepy, if not outright sad: "It felt like giving up. Like we were handing over the keys to our humanity, giving it away for free for the sake of saving ourselves from being inconvenienced" (43). But for Matt, who grew up with distant parents and who never felt all that connected to his (now ex-) wife, a Compassion AI seems the perfect solution to humanity's "archaic dependence on each other as a source of fulfillment and support":

    "You think relying on another person is archaic?"
     "It's not archaic if it's a choice, freely made and healthy." He shrugged, his tone growing lofty, academic. "But, I do think the practice of sacrificing oneself at the altar of physical urges and the fantasy of emotional equivalence in the pursuit of empathy, endorphins, and tachycardia is archaic" (35-40).

Given that this is a romance novel, the savvy reader will expect Matt's point of view on human vs. robotic connection to be firmly trounced by book's end. But what made Dating-ish such a fascinating read is that Reid, through reporter Marie's work on a series of articles about how "women, all of female humanity—can replace romantic relationships by using either paid services or robots," gives both sides equal, and equally compassionate, airtime.

It turns out that while Compassion AI technology is not quite ready for the market, there are already quite a lot of paid services currently available designed to meet one or more of the needs usually fulfilled by a romantic partner—"Professional cuddlers and massage for touch. Professional dry humpers for thrilling touch. Escorts for dinner dates, life coaches for affirmation, personal trainers for activity and movement"—even meditation salons that provide guided orgasm therapy. All perfectly legal, none based on the subjugation of a weaker person for a stronger one, and all in service of meeting unfulfilled human needs. Fiercely curious Marie cannot help but be drawn to the idea of exploring other creative ways of "solving loneliness" besides Internet dating.

Of course, for the second part of her series, the part focusing on robots, Professor Simmons proves to be the perfect source. He's direct, honest, and curious, characteristics he shares with Marie. And though Marie's "whoremones" ("That's what I called my hormones when they betrayed my good sense. Sandra said I was slut-shaming my body's appreciation for the opposite sex. I told her I was okay with that if it meant I remained free of STDs" [76]) begin to act up around the younger, rumpled, quirky, but decidedly good-looking professor, Matt's nothing but direct about not wanting to get involved in any kind of romantic relationship. Marie is looking for someone to settle down with, not fool around with, but she enjoys Matt's company so much that she asks if the two of them can be friends when the interviewing for her article is done.

Though Matt's a bit taken aback at being so directly "friend-zoned," he readily agrees to Marie's proposal. And the two begin to hang out together. A lot. Far more so that workaholic Matt ever did with any of his previous friends, or even with his wife. So much so that many of Marie's male friends assume the two are dating, or at least engaging in a bit of friends-with-benefits nookie. And as the line between friendship and flirt-buddies begins to grow ever fuzzier, and the two share not just quips but vulnerabilities, Marie finds herself wavering between squashing all fantasies about a long-term relationship with cagey Matt and throwing her body, if not her heart, directly into his sexy path.

Only after Marie begins to realize that she might just be using Matt as a crutch, and announces that "maybe there's such a thing as sharing too much . . . between friends" can she and Matt begin to stop dancing around the truth of what their relationship has become, rather than what they assumed it would be. A Companion AI, Reid's book suggests, might be the perfect solution for many people—the bereaved and grieving; the deeply lonely; children in foster care; and a long list of others. But as for Matt and Marie, they've already found the perfect companions—one another.


Illustration Credits:
Online dating graphic: Globe and Mail, via Holykaw
Cuddling: Cuddle Professionals International
Medical robot: Radio Canada International







Dating-ish
Knitting in the City #6
Caped Publishing, 2017