2. Unlearning the Script: Implicit Bias, Disney Princesses, and the Power of New Stories

Belle would read this and subscribe. (What our childhood fairytales taught us about women—and how we're finally rewriting the ending.)

It’s a weird moment when you realize your favorite Disney princess—Belle, book lover, independent thinker, queen of the library—was probably in the throes of Stockholm syndrome.

Seriously. She got kidnapped, developed a trauma bond, and then redecorated the place.

But I digress.

Or maybe I don’t—because that moment, the one where you start questioning the stories you grew up with, is the beginning of unlearning bias.

Implicit bias doesn’t start in the workplace.
It doesn’t begin the day someone talks over you in a meeting or credits your idea to someone else.
It doesn’t start with vague feedback like “you’re not quite leadership material,” or when the promotion goes to someone with less experience and more confidence.

No. It starts much earlier than that.

It starts when you’re five years old (and younger), in pajamas on a Saturday morning, watching a princess wait quietly in a tower for someone to rescue her. It starts when your childhood heroes are all thin, pretty, agreeable, mostly silent, with the only goal of getting married.

It starts when you never once see someone who looks like you doing the saving.

That’s where the script begins.

The stories we’re told in childhood become the scripts we follow in adulthood. Until we rewrite them.

What Is Implicit Bias?

Implicit bias refers to the automatic, unconscious attitudes and stereotypes we hold about people based on gender, race, age, ability, or identity. They’re not the beliefs we choose—they’re the ones that sneak in under the radar. They’re formed by what we’ve been exposed to over time, especially the stories we’ve absorbed without even realizing it. It can lead to stereotypes and assumptions about entire groups of people.

In the work world, these biases influence how we:

• Hire

• Evaluate competence

• Assign leadership potential

• And even how we speak to people (or over them)

So while bias can look like an unfair performance review, it can just as easily sound like, “She’s great, but I just don’t see her in a leadership role.”

From Disney to the Boardroom

Before we ever entered the workforce, we were taught how women should behave—and who should lead.

Let’s talk about what classic Disney movies told us—not to cancel princesses, but because they’re one of the first places we learned that “good” girls wish upon a fucking star and then wait to get rescued.

• Princesses were rewarded for being beautiful, patient, and quiet (think Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Little Mermaid)

• Female Villains were powerful, aging, opinionated women—often with visible lines and no romantic prospects (Little Mermaid, Cinderella, Snow White, 101 Dalmations, even Yzma in the Emperor’s New Groove)

• Mothers were dead, missing, or wicked (Bambi, Cinderella, Snow White, Little Mermaid, Aladdin, Finding Nemo).

• Fathers? Kings, well-meaning goofballs, or rulers of kingdoms they barely understood. (Aladdin, Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Tangled)

And most of all:

• The end goal for women wasn’t leadership or legacy.

• It was marriage. Validation. Being chosen.

Even Ariel—another one of my favorites—gave up her literal voice to get a man.

It’s subtle. It’s nostalgic even.
And it’s bias disguised as a bedtime story.

But that’s just the beginning. Society hands us this messaging everywhere: when boys are told they’re brave and strong, while girls are told to be sweet and helpful. When girls are handed dolls, not LEGOs. When girls are praised for being quiet and boys for “taking charge.”

These narratives didn’t stay in childhood.

You don’t come out of the womb associating pink with girls and blue with boys.

You learn it. And it follows you.

Into school. Into college.
Into job interviews, performance reviews, and pay negotiations.

It followed us into our careers.

Curious where your bias lives?

You can take the Implicit Association Test, developed by Harvard researchers, Mahzarin Banaji and Anthony Greenwald, to uncover unconscious associations—like the link between gender and leadership, or race and criminality.

For a deeper read, check out their book Blindspot: Hidden Biases of Good People by Mahzarin Banaji and Anthony Greenwald. It’s a science-backed look at the development of the test, and how well-intentioned people absorb bias long before they know it’s happening.

How Bias Shows Up at Work (and why it matters legally)

You don’t need to be in a courtroom or C-suite to see it. Implicit bias is alive and well in everyday professional life—and it quietly influences decisions that shape careers and paychecks.

Women are promoted based on proof.

We need the track record, the receipts, the undeniable results.
Men? They're often promoted based on potential—what they might become, how they could grow, what leadership sees in them, even if it's not yet on paper.

Women are expected to be likable and competent.

It’s not enough to be good at the job—you have to smile while doing it. You have to reassure people that your confidence isn't threatening, that your expertise isn't ego, and that your ambition isn’t "too much."

If we’re too warm, we’re “not serious.”
If we’re too direct, we’re “aggressive” or plain “bitchy.”

Mothers are penalized.

We’re seen as distracted, less ambitious, and no longer team players. Yet, we somehow still become the “mom” of the workplace—checking in on everyone else’s well-being.
Meanwhile, fathers are viewed as more stable, committed, and responsible once they have kids. That’s the motherhood penalty vs. fatherhood bonus—a phenomenon well-documented in EEOC charge data and litigation.

My side rant on what I think of moms in the workplace:

If you're a working professional and also a mom, I’m just going to say it:
You're a rockstar.
A superhero.
A badass multitasking machine.

But I wish we weren’t. Because we’re also human. I want to burn that GD cape! Stop calling me that so I perform to exhaustion and guilt!

But yes, me and You have all the skills needed to succeed—at home, at work, and anywhere else you damn well choose. It’s time we stopped pretending we have to pick one or the other.

If you're a mom, here’s what I’m going to assume about you:

• You are an elite-level multitasker

• You are efficient with your time and your energy

• You are organized because chaos is your baseline

• You are patient (because kids will test your last molecule of peace)

• You are a negotiator, a peacekeeper, a crisis manager, and an emotional anchor

• You can get more done in one hour than most people do all day

• You have literal one-handed skills that should qualify as wizadry.

• And most of all, you are a team player—because you know the value of help, and you show up for others the way you wish someone would show up for you. (I was told there would be a village!)

We’re not a liability. We’re not a risk.
We’re the asset they didn’t know the workplace needed.

So the next time someone side-eyes a mom for being distracted, unavailable, or less ambitious? Well, fuck ‘em! They’re looking at a masterclass in resilience.
I see you.

We see you.

And honestly? They should be taking fucking notes.

And we’re not going anywhere.

(side rant over, back to the article)

And then there's the daily stuff:

• We’re interrupted more.

• Credited less.

• Talked over in meetings.

• Mansplained on topics we’re experts in.

• And when we finally speak up? Someone else might repeat our idea—with a deeper voice—and get the credit.

That’s not just frustrating. It creates a workplace culture ripe for constructive discharge claims, pay equity disputes, and discrimination under Title VII, the Equal Pay Act, or other state law equivalents.

And here’s the reality:

Bias doesn’t always come in the form of a smoking gun email. Often, it’s the quiet, cumulative impact of subjective decision-making, unchecked assumptions, and patterns that look neutral—but operate as a systemic disadvantage.

Which means: It’s not just bad for morale. It’s legally risky.

Internalized Bias: When the Script Lives in Us

Here’s the kicker: the bias doesn’t just come from others.
We internalize it, too. Society’s outside voice became our inner monologue.

We:

• Apologize before we speak.

• Apply only when we meet 100% of the job criteria.

• Downplay our wins.

• Overthink our tone in every email.

• Perform exhaustion as proof of worth.

I’ve done and still do all of these. Because we were raised on stories where women earned value by being chosen—not by choosing themselves.

Moana, Elsa, and the Shift in the Story

But something is changing. Finally.

Enter: Moana

Moana doesn’t wait to be saved.
She saves herself.
She saves her people.
She leads without romance, approval, or perfection.

She struggles with doubt—but pushes forward anyway. And most importantly, no one tells her to smile more while she does it.

She’s not alone:

• Elsa (Frozen) isn’t looking for a prince. She’s fighting to control her power—and eventually, to own it.

• Mirabel (Encanto) breaks a generational cycle with empathy, not conquest.

• Luisa is physically strong and emotionally overwhelmed. She’s more than a punchline.

• Raya leads with grit, not gowns.

These stories matter. Because exposure matters.

Representation isn’t a feel-good add-on—it’s how we reshape the mental models that fuel bias. It can even curb liability in your workplace.

And now, I get to watch my son grow up with women as heroes—not helpers. Leaders—not love interests. That shift? It’s generational repair work.

What We Can Actually Do

So where do we go from here? Bias may be implicit—but addressing it shouldn’t be. Here’s how we start unlearning, unpacking, and undoing it in real time.

1. Start Noticing

Begin with your own internal narrative. That split-second judgment? Pause and examine it.

• Where did that assumption come from?

• Whose voice is it? A parent? A professor? A manager from five jobs ago?

• Would you think the same if the person were a different gender, race, or age?

Start replacing automatic with intentional.
Start viewing confidence not as arrogance, but as something women are allowed to have.

And yes: take up space. Physically, verbally, emotionally.
That discomfort you feel when you do? That’s patriarchy detox.

2. Name It in the Room

Bias thrives in silence and a lack of exposure. Interrupt the pattern.

• Did someone just talk over a woman? Say: “I’d like to hear her finish her thought.”

• Is feedback vague and gendered? Ask: “Can you give a specific example?”

• Did someone assume the man in the room was the leader? Say: “Actually, she’s running point on this.”

It doesn’t have to be confrontational. It just has to be clear.

If you’re in leadership, go further:

• Audit performance evaluations for tone.

• Require justification for promotion decisions.

• Look at whose ideas get implemented—and whose names get attached.

Being an ally isn’t about the label. It’s about what you do when no one is watching.

3. Change the Narrative

Mentorship is great. Sponsorship is powerful.

• Don’t just advise talented women—advocate for them.

• Recommend them for the tough cases, the promotions, the podium.

• Say their names in rooms they’re not in yet.

And if you’ve made it through the gauntlet? Lift while you rise.

Because the point of breaking a glass ceiling isn’t just to stand in the shards—it’s to pull someone else through the opening. And then hand them a fucking mic.

4. Expose Yourself (and Others) to Better Stories

Representation changes perception. Exposure matters. It rewires what we think is normal, possible, and powerful.

• Watch Moana. And Frozen. And Encanto. With your kids or by yourself.

• Follow voices outside your own identity on social media, in books, in podcasts.

• Buy children’s books with main characters who aren’t white, cis, or male.

• And yes, hand your daughter Legos. Hand your son a doll. Give both a cape.

Let’s start praising little girls, even the little girl inside you, for being brave, curious, persistent, and yes—loud.

And the next time your daughter stands her ground?

Don’t call her bossy.
Call her ready.

Final Thought

Implicit bias isn’t just something you were taught.

It’s something you’ve been shown, over and over again, since you were old enough to sing along with a princess and hope to be chosen.

But the good news? You can unlearn it.
You can choose a new story.
You can be a new story.

So if you’ve ever felt too much, too ambitious, too emotional, too tired, or just too “off script”—

You’re not.
You’re just not the character society wrote for you.

Rewrite the script—for him, for her, for you.

To the future you’re building, and the little girl who still lives in you:

You belong here—especially here. Keep showing up.

Tell me what this brings up for you?

One Last Thing: Disclaimer

This post isn’t legal advice.
Yes, I’m a lawyer. No, I’m not your lawyer (unless we’ve signed papers and I’m charging you my hourly rate). This is for informational, educational, and entertainment purposes only.
If you're dealing with workplace discrimination or retaliation, talk to a qualified employment attorney in your jurisdiction.
Also, stay subscribed because this stuff matters. But seriously—don’t treat this as legal advice. Love you.

Want to bring this message to your workplace or event?
I speak on workplace equity, implicit bias, leadership, and what it really looks like to navigate law and life as a Board Certified Labor and Employment Attorney.
Message me to book a keynote, CLE, or custom training.

Copyright © 2025 Rebecca Sanchez Hayward. All rights reserved.
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