When I was 26, I started my first job as a lawyer. It had taken years of academia, and more than a few all-night cram sessions, but I had finally done it. I had visions of myself as the Jessica Pearson of human rights law, smashing down glass ceilings whilst demolishing the other side in the courtroom. I saw myself speaking on panels, writing books, appearing on the news in a tailor-made suit as an expert consultant. My workload was big but my dreams were even bigger and for years I genuinely enjoyed showing up to work in the morning. Until all of a sudden I decided, rather masochistically, it was time to have a baby. 

And then I had another one. 

Fast forward to the present day and I have two beautiful girls who I have been fortunate enough to spend every single minute of every single day with since they were born. But, while I have loved motherhood more than I could have ever anticipated, my career dreams still persist, albeit on a more modest level. I would, if possible, love to have the “all” I have been informed modern women can have. Yet, having it all is much, much harder than I was led to believe.

In my first job interview after having my children, I was asked how I planned on juggling my workload and my childcare responsibilities. In another, I was asked what my daughters’ father did and whether he would be able to help me look after them once I returned to work. When I, perhaps rather naively, told the interviewer the truth – that he worked in investment banking – I saw her eyes glaze over as she started drafting my rejection email in her head.

I was no longer Jessica Pearson-in-training. I was a ‘working mum’. A term used somewhat pejoratively towards women, while its male counterpart literally does not exist (even though working dads certainly do exist – I know this for a fact because I am married to one).

And these were the only two positions I was invited to interview for, out of the 35 applications I sent – many of which were for jobs I was wholly, if not over, qualified for. It is definitely possible that the other 33 recruiters may just not have thought I was a good fit, and I sincerely hope this was the case. However, I can’t help but suspect that the gaping gap in my CV may have had something to do with the startling number of rejections I received. 

It is explicitly understood that a gap in your CV is a Bad Thing. It is a Bad Thing because it means you haven’t been working. And while recruiters try to assuage applicants that all they need to do is have a decent explanation for the gap, the reality is that CVs with gaps, more often than not, go to the bottom of the pile. 

The cruel irony of this is that as a stay at home mum I have been working. I have been working harder than I ever have in my life without a single day off and without being paid. And while mums are often silenced from complaining because ‘we chose to have kids’, no-one who has ever spent more than an hour or two with a young child can deny that parenting is really bloody difficult. And there is a hell of a lot at stake. If we want civilisation to continue, women need to have babies and they then need to mould these tiny babies into acceptable, civilised adults who do internships and pay taxes. No pressure. 

Not only have I been working hard, but, as is natural after spending any significant amount of time in a challenging job, I have learned and honed a multitude of skills. Skills that are transferable all the way from the play room to the board room. Patience, negotiating, multi-tasking, working under pressure, learning on the job, finding creative solutions to problems, time management, emotional resilience – these are just a few of the skills I excel at thanks to my stint as a mum. All this while being sucked, pulled, and screamed at by my tiny bosses.

However, for all the improvement my ‘soft skills’ have gone through, my ‘hard skills’ – this includes commercial awareness and industry knowledge – have stagnated. This, I accept with my hands in the air. But, does that make me unqualified for a position? It’s possible, but it’s certainly not a given. After all, I entered motherhood with zero experience and have made a roaring success of it, if I do say so myself.

There’s no question that you need to understand the world you are working in in order to do a good job. However, it is similarly undisputed that as you move up through the rankings you need not only to work hard yourself, but to extract hard work from the people around you. And to do this, you need those soft skills I mentioned earlier. 

Yet, soft skills are seen as second-tier to hard skills. Even the term ‘soft’ is pejorative – indicating those skills are easy and squishy in comparison with hard skills, which are seen as strong, thrusting, and, dare I say it, masculine. But, this notion is misconceived for exactly the reasons I’ve just pointed out. 

Studies have shown time and time again that companies with women in positions of leadership perform better than those without this gender diversity. It is not only women who suffer from parental discrimination, but companies themselves. We know this. Employers know this. And yet we still speak about change as happening ‘one day’ and not today. 

I asked a group of mothers from across Australia whether they would put ‘mother’ on their CV and of the 114 people who answered, 100% said no. Their reasons mostly fell into two camps – these women either believed it would make them a less attractive candidate or they did not believe parenting is relevant to the workplace. 

So, what are we to do about the millions of mothers around the world who are paying very dearly for choosing to have a family? How can we eradicate what is now commonly known as the ‘motherhood penalty’?  

This is why I founded What Gap? I want to empower parents to include PARENT on their CV, loud and proud. I want parents to walk into interviews feeling confident that they no longer need to try and justify a gap in their CV. Instead, they can hold their head high, flash a winning smile, and ask right back: What Gap?