Marissa Mayer looked girly and submissive in Vogue - but that's not the problem.

photo: Vogue

You may have seen the recent picture of Marissa Mayer (right) posing sexily on a lounging chair, all dolled up and wearing heels, in the latest issue of Vogue. Some people say it's a step backwards for women, that a male CEO would be photographed in a more powerful position.

That second part is true. And we should definitely work towards overhauling the societal structures that make it normal for women to be - and be photographed as - submissive while men are dominant.

But Marissa Mayer is allowed to pose in Vogue however she wants. By critiquing her every move, in a way that doesn't happen to men, we are reinforcing the notion that a woman's actions can and should be policed. The idea of policing a woman's actions takes lots of forms - saying a friend's shirt is too provocative, that a drunk woman on the street probably should be more careful, that a powerful female CEO's appearance in a magazine should follow a specific set of standards. These things are all policing a woman's looks and, because actions go into making up how you look, their actions.

When we police a woman's appearance, we are telling her that her body does not belong to her. When you say that a woman shouldn't be wearing something or looking a certain way, you send the message that you know what she should do, that you know what's best for her, that you should have the power to make her decisions - in essence, that you - perhaps representing societal norms as a whole - own her.

We can hate on Marissa Mayer for her hit and miss workplace policies,but to hate on her for how she chooses to appear in a photograph is different. I work hard to not police the actions of other women, even if I think I'm doing it for the "right" feminist reasons. I don't try to convince my engaged friends to keep their last names like I did if they like the idea of a new last name from the man they love. If my family members are able and willing to be stay-at-home moms, more power to them. And if a good friend wants to wear a shirt that shows her cleavage, I'm not going to police her actions and "warn" her that her shirt might give men the wrong idea or something like that, because it's up to the men around her not to perceive her shirt as an invitation. 

This is also why I'm not going to say anything about Marissa Mayer's photograph in Vogue. If getting dolled up and doing what the professionals at Vogue told her to do is what made her feel comfortable appearing in one of the most famous publications on the planet, then fine. I have my personal opinions about what it all means in the grander scheme of things, but I'm not going to police the actions of one individual woman making her own choices - that's easy to do but ultimately ineffective and creating any change. Instead, I'm going to work harder against the things that matter on a larger scale. I'm going to make sure I'm not quiet and submissive in my workplace, even when that feels like the safe thing to do. I'm going to focus my efforts on not letting my husband be the default decision maker, which for whatever messed up reasons sometimes feels like the natural thing to both of us. I choose to wear minimal or no make up so that worry a little less about if I'm getting somewhere because of my appearance rather than my abilities. These are my choices, and they reflect where I am at my part of the journey and work towards equality. But other woman are in different places, have different comfort levels, and feel differently about these issues, and that's ok.

Recently a teenage family member I was spending a few days with asked me if a shirt that was somewhat see-through was "ok" to wear out. I said "if you're comfortable it's fine by me" even though I wanted so badly to tell her that she wasn't an object for strange men's viewing pleasure and could she for God's sake put on an opaque shirt? I didn't say this because I did the same sort of thing when I was a teenager, and nothing anyone said could get through to me. I had to endure the lewd stares and comments for a few years before I realized, on my own terms, that I didn't want to dress that way anymore. The decision was and is much more meaningful and absolute than if others had policed my clothing; if my mom had forced me to wear different clothes, it would have been a short-term win for her but I may have changed the second I was out of her sight. Instead, she (usually) let me wear what I wanted, and I came to a deeper and more permanent decision about the way I dress.

The call to action is this: don't police the actions of other women. This is a short-sighted and usually ineffective way to make change. It's easy to call out a stranger for taking a "step backwards" for women everywhere; it's harder but more effective to work against the societal and cultural standards that surround her choice in the first place. Double down on your own efforts. Cultivate a powerful stance and presence, focus your efforts on your abilities over appearance, or do whatever it is that works against the things you dislike in Marissa Mayer that you're personally comfortable with. Think about what you can do, in your own life, to work against the messed up culture that puts one of America's most powerful woman in a submissive and sexual pose for her photoshoot.