Political scientists have written articles on why women self-select out of the political pipeline, economists debate reasons for the gender pay gap, and popular publications broach the topic of gender inequality. While aware of the ongoing discussion of gender disparities in the workplace, I struggled to perceive them until recently. As a child, I watched female Marines who worked with my father excel in promoting national defense. Observing those women helped me discern my own interests in national security, foreign policy, and economics. Further, I felt able to pursue work in those fields because I saw some women already there. I pursued my interests academically and made a strong student. When I began trading the classroom for internships, however, my confidence declined. I hesitated to ask questions, lest I appear uninformed. I was wary of requesting more responsibilities for fear of seeming vain. I was convinced that self-advocacy was unnecessary at best and egotistical at worst. If I worked hard and did thankless tasks, I thought my superiors would notice and I would receive larger roles. Sometimes I did. Often I didn’t. Gradually, my colleagues — frequently, though not always, male — requested and filled those roles instead. As I was researching for my undergraduate honors thesis, which examines the political representation of women, I realized my hypocrisy. I knew women could hold the same roles as their male counterparts. I supported women taking professional risks, subscribing to research that claims increased representation of women and other underrepresented groups benefits society. At the same time, I was personally pulling back. The voice in my head had become my saboteur, suggesting I tuck tail and run before someone realized I was learning from my work instead of omnisciently breezing by.