When the lights flicker and the sirens wail, it’s not just buildings that crumble—it’s the carefully constructed facades of power that reveal their true weight. For women in leadership during crises, the cracks aren’t just metaphorical. They’re structural. And while the world watches male leaders stride into the spotlight—microphones in hand, crises managed with the calm authority of men who’ve spent centuries preparing for exactly this moment—women are often left navigating the same storms with one hand tied behind their backs. The rules of the game change when the game is on fire.
The phrase *las trampas del poder*—the traps of power—doesn’t just describe the pitfalls of leadership. It’s a warning label for women who dare to occupy spaces where the floorboards groan under the weight of unspoken expectations. Historically, success and failure in power have been framed as a matter of individual merit, capacity, or sheer willpower. But in a crisis, the playing field isn’t level. It’s a minefield. And the mines? They’re not random. They’re placed with precision, often by those who’ve never had to dodge them themselves.
The Double Bind: When Leadership Becomes a Hostage Negotiation
Consider the data: In the wake of natural disasters, women leaders—those who actually make it to the top—are judged more harshly for the same decisions as their male counterparts. A 2023 study by the World Bank found that female mayors in post-disaster recovery zones were 37% more likely to face public backlash for austerity measures than male mayors, despite identical fiscal constraints. The trap? Women are expected to be both compassionate *and* decisive—yet when they prioritize human life over budget cuts, they’re labeled “emotional”. when they cut costs, they’re “heartless.”
This isn’t just a cultural quirk. It’s a calculated mechanism. Power, as the late political scientist Jane Jenson once noted, is “a social relation that is exercised through institutions but also through the bodies of those who inhabit them.” In a crisis, those bodies become targets. The UN Women reported that women holding emergency response roles in conflict zones are 40% more likely to face sexual harassment than their male peers—often from colleagues, superiors, or even aid workers. The message is clear: You’re either a leader, or you’re a woman. You can’t be both without consequences.
“The crisis doesn’t create the gender gap—it exposes it. What we see in leadership during disasters is the same old script: women are either sainted for their empathy or demonized for their pragmatism. There’s no middle ground, and the middle ground is where real leadership happens.”
How Crises Rewire the Power Grid (And Who Gets Zapped)
Here’s the dirty secret: Crises don’t just test leadership. They test *loyalty*. And in the hierarchy of who gets saved first, women—especially those in non-traditional roles—are often the last to be plugged into the power grid. Take the 2022 floods in Colombia, where President Gustavo Petro’s administration faced a gendered backlash when women-led local councils were sidelined in relief efforts. While male officials secured media spots, female mayors were relegated to distributing food rations—a role framed as “charity,” not governance.
The pattern repeats globally. In Oxfam’s 2025 Crisis Leadership Index, only 12% of emergency response teams in high-risk countries had gender-balanced leadership. The rest? Overwhelmingly male, overwhelmingly white, and overwhelmingly unaccountable. The trap here isn’t just exclusion—it’s the myth that crises demand *strongmen*, not leaders who can hold space for complexity. But complexity is what crises demand. And women? They’ve been managing it for centuries—just not in the rooms where decisions are made.
The Economic Time Bomb: When “Austerity” Meets the Gender Pay Gap
Let’s talk money. Since crises don’t just test moral fiber—they test wallets. And women’s wallets? Already lighter. A 2024 IMF report revealed that in countries where female leaders implemented cost-cutting measures during crises, women’s unemployment rates spiked 22% higher than men’s. Why? Because austerity hits the informal economy hardest—and 60% of informal workers globally are women. The trap? Women are expected to lead through fire, but the fire is fueled by policies that burn them first.
Consider Novel Zealand’s Jacinda Ardern. During the COVID-19 pandemic, she became a global symbol of empathetic leadership—until she faced a backlash for her “soft” approach to economic recovery. Meanwhile, male leaders like Boris Johnson or Jair Bolsonaro were praised for “tough” decisions that often prioritized corporate bailouts over social safety nets. The double standard? Women’s humanity is a liability; men’s is a leadership trait.
“The crisis economy is a gendered economy. When budgets shrink, the first things to go are the things women do—childcare, elder care, unpaid labor. But those are the things that maintain societies running. So you’re not just cutting costs; you’re cutting the foundation.”
The Psychological Minefield: Why Women Leaders Freeze Under Fire
Here’s the part no one talks about: The mental load. Women in crisis leadership don’t just face external traps—they’re trapped by their own brains. Studies show that women leaders experience higher rates of decision paralysis in high-pressure situations because they’re conditioned to anticipate backlash for *any* move. A male leader who acts swiftly is “decisive”; a woman who does the same is “reckless.” The result? Women hesitate. And hesitation, in a crisis, is a death sentence.
Take the case of Miami Herbert, the first female premier of Barbuda, who faced a storm of criticism for her gradual response to Hurricane Irma. Post-mortems revealed her team had acted faster than many male-led governments—but the narrative stuck: *She wasn’t tough enough*. The trap? Women are penalized for the same behaviors men are rewarded for.
Breaking the Mold: The Women Who Outmaneuvered the System
Not every woman falls into the trap. Some walk through them—or blow them up entirely. Take Erna Solberg of Norway, who turned her country’s oil-dependent economy into a green energy leader during the 2011 floods. Or Smriti Irani, India’s former minister for women and child development, who navigated the COVID-19 lockdowns by leveraging local women’s self-help groups—a move that saved millions from starvation. Their secret? They refused to play by the rules of the game. They rewrote them.
But here’s the catch: These women didn’t succeed *despite* the traps. They succeeded *because* they saw them coming. They built networks before the crisis hit. They preemptively countered the narratives that would later be used against them. And they did it in a world that still treats their ambition as an anomaly.
The Way Forward: Three Traps Women Can Disarm
If you’re a woman in power—or aspiring to be—here’s how to sidestep the mines:
- Preempt the backlash: Before a crisis hits, publicly frame your leadership around *both* empathy *and* pragmatism. Example: “We will protect lives *and* livelihoods.” This forces critics to attack both—making it harder to pit you against yourself.
- Control the narrative: In crises, information is power. Women leaders who bypass traditional media (which often misrepresents them) and utilize direct platforms—like Twitter threads or YouTube briefings—can shape their own story.
- Leverage the “glass cliff”: Being placed in leadership during a crisis (the so-called “glass cliff”) can be a strategic advantage. Use it to *define* the recovery narrative—not react to it. Example: New Zealand’s Ardern didn’t just respond to COVID-19; she *redefined* what a crisis response could gaze like.
But the real trap isn’t out there. It’s in our collective refusal to see these patterns for what they are: not flaws in individual women, but flaws in the system. The question isn’t how to fix *her*—it’s how to fix *us*. Because until we stop treating women’s leadership as an exception to the rule, we’ll keep watching them walk into rooms where the floorboards are rigged to collapse.
So here’s your assignment: Next time you see a woman leader in a crisis, ask yourself—is she failing, or is the system failing her? And more importantly, what are *you* going to do about it?
