Why Do Women Do the Work While Men Create the Barriers?

In my coaching practice, I’ve noticed a recurring dynamic that fills me with equal parts admiration and frustration. Most of our clients are women: phenomenal, self-aware women who embrace the work of self-assessment, growth, and adaptation. They dig deep, confront hard truths, and stretch themselves to evolve in leadership and life. Meanwhile, the people who I believe most need to engage in this work—men—are conspicuously missing.

I know, I know, some of you may be rolling your eyes [if not preparing to wage an outright social media war on me] and asking, “Who the hell is Stephen Belenky to say this?” Fair question. But before you dismiss me, know that it takes one to know one. I was part of the problem too [and maybe I still am to an extent] but I’m prepared to walk the walk for as long as I’m able to walk.

More importantly, I’m not alone here. This isn’t my take but an undeniable reality that’s playing out in workplaces around the world. Respected thinkers like Simon Sinek and Adam Grant have been raising this very issue. The need for us [men] to step into the messy, vulnerable work of self-awareness is glaring, yet we see so few doing it.

Why are women are doing the work?

Women are doing the work because they have to. Historically and systematically, the deck has been stacked against them. They don’t just face obstacles, they face entire systems designed to preserve the status quo, often perpetuated by us, whether we realize or not how much power we’re clinging to.

Despite these barriers, women fill the workshops, invest in coaching, and commit to developing their leadership and resilience. They do all this to navigate a workplace culture that feels like it was made by men for men. It’s a monumental task, one that’s impressive and exhausting in equal measure.

But here’s the bitter irony: if more men were doing the inner work, women wouldn’t have to go to such lengths to survive these systems. So much of what women are tasked with fixing, like figuring out how to deal with exclusion, bias, and the constant need to “prove” themselves, are problems they didn’t create. They’re doing the work because we, as a whole, aren’t stepping up.

Why aren’t men doing the work?

At the risk of oversimplifying the issue, I’d say we avoid this work because it feels risky. Doing the inner work requires confronting uncomfortable truths about our own behaviors, biases, and complicity in unequal systems. It threatens the illusion of control.

Most men I meet aren’t bad people. But it’s clear the majority of us have been trained to avoid vulnerability like it’s a liability. We’re taught the market punishes those who admit fault or seek help. We fear self-reflection will weaken our authority, maybe even cost us wealth. And honestly, that might be true. That’s why I don’t tell other men that self-reflection will earn them universal respect or win them humanitarian awards.

Instead, I make a business case. Research shows people with higher incomes tend to have higher self-esteem, and the two feed into each other. Translation? Your relationship with yourself directly impacts your earning potential. So, if being a better human doesn’t light a fire under you, do the inner work so you can live the life you actually want, not the one you’re faking on Instagram.

And here’s where things can get particularly tricky: even those who appear to be “doing the work” often miss the point. I’m talking about the discipline dictators, the men who preach a gospel of rigid habits, relentless hustle, and perfectionism as a form of self-improvement.

On the surface, it might look like they’re engaging in meaningful inner work. They post about cold plunges, 4 a.m. workouts, and their zero-tolerance policy for weakness. But seriously, this in itself isn’t self-awareness and in some cases is nothing more than highly curated avoidance tactics.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about healthy-working habits. For god’s sake, I’m in the habit-building business. But discipline without reflection is a shield, not a tool. It’s easier for men to mistake control for growth and toughness for insight, doubling down on the same performative strength that got us into trouble in the first place.

Instead of peeling back the layers of why we feel compelled to dominate, gatekeep, or posture, we slap a coat of discipline over the problem and call it progress. True self-awareness isn’t about looking like we’ve got our act together [sadly that was my mission for most of my adult life] but being willing to take a hard look at the parts of ourselves we’d rather not see.

That’s the work most of us avoid because it’s far harder than a thousand burpees or a perfectly regimented calendar. And it’s really the only work that genuinely changes anything, both within and around us.

What really happens when men avoid the work?

Avoidance has a cost. I’ll be blunt for a moment. When men choose not to engage, women are forced to figure out how to work around the barriers we unintentionally and sometimes very intentionally create. Those barriers often stem from fear: fear of losing power, fear of change, fear of being irrelevant. Gatekeeping isn’t confidence; it’s insecurity dressed up in authority.

Most of my frustration lies in knowing that if men channeled even half the energy into self-assessment that women do, the workplace—and the world—would look profoundly different for everyone. But I also recognize the challenge many men face as they navigate this path and risk perpetuating cycles of disconnection and insecurity.

In doing so, men retreat further into self-preservation, often at their own peril and at the expense of women. My intent here is not to victimize men and certainly not to suggest it’s on women to fix this problem. Nevertheless, a declining self esteem among men is a threat to the ideals of a great society. Truth be told when both men and women are empowered to become their best, whole selves, everyone wins at work, at home, and beyond.

So, what’s the solution?

I’m not here to demonize men. But I am here to challenge us. The call is simple: show up. Do the work. Take ownership of our impact. This means confronting our fears, asking ourselves tough questions, and inviting honest feedback, even when it stings. And it doesn’t require coaching to get started.

Men will likely be tempted to dismiss this article as my own personal rant or even a self-serving attempt to drive more business my way; but let me point you to those big-name voices echoing this same sentiment. Simon Sinek talks about the importance of emotional intelligence and empathy in leadership. Adam Grant emphasizes the necessity of rethinking outdated norms.

The takeaway? This isn’t just my perspective but a growing consensus among both women and men who study what great leadership looks like. To the men out there: this is our moment to lead differently. Vulnerability isn’t weakness; it’s the foundation of strength. Doing the work won’t undermine us; it will make us someone worth following.

To the women: I see you. I honor you. And I’ll continue calling out these dynamics because you deserve partners in this fight; not just sympathetic words, but actions from those in power to address the root of the inequities you face. And of course, I’ll continue to advocate that you continue with the coaching but to be honest, I’m scratching my head wondering why so much effort from you and so little from us men?

And to anyone ready to challenge this thinking, I say this: come at me. Push back. Let’s have the conversation. But let’s make sure we’re starting it with one shared commitment: doing the inner work. Because no matter where you stand, we all have growing to do.