5 Lessons on Power from Jill Abramson’s “Merchants of Truth”

Jill Abramson

Jill Abramson

by Rachel Hills

Jill Abramson’s new book “Merchants of Truth,” recently excerpted in New York Magazine, isn’t just a fascinating look at the transformations in the media industry over the last decade. It’s also insightful when it comes to the matter of women and power (and power more generally, no matter what your gender).

Here are five lessons I took from Abramson’s tenure as the executive editor of the New York Times.

1. Surround yourself with people who support your vision.

When I worked in magazines, I was always struck by how quickly publications transformed when they got a new editor in chief. Magazines I previously loved rapidly became terrible, ones I thought were mediocre became briefly magnificent, and always always within a few months you’d see an exodus of the staff who’d worked for the old EIC and an influx of staff who’d worked with the new EIC in her previous role.

This isn’t unique to publishing - friends in other industries (fashion comes to mind) tell me it happens there, too. And usually, it wasn’t a result of people being fired so much as old staff hating the new vision and the new boss wanting to bring on people they trusted. You can’t bring your vision to life without people on your team who support your vision.

When Abramson was offered the role of executive editor by then NYT publisher Arthur Sulzberger Jr, she was given a microscopic window to choose her own 2IC.

“Who are you thinking about for managing editor?” Sulzberger asked.”

Thinking I wouldn’t get the job, I had not put together my dream team of other editors.

One beat later, Sulzberger was making his own suggestion for role: Dean Baquet, his second choice for executive editor.

“What about Dean?” he continued.

One of the comments on the Abramson’s NYMag article suggests that she might have fared better Baquet (who, spoiler alert, succeeds Abramson as executive editor two and a half years later) and Abramson had been made his 2IC. But it strikes me that the real issue here is that Abramson’s most important teammate was a competitor rather than an ally.


2. Always ask about money.

During that first conversation with Sulzberger, Abramson describes feeling “light-headed” at the news that she had been offered the role of executive editor. As a result, she doesn’t ask him about salary before accepting the position.

Later, after asking one of her masthead editors to study the issue of pay equity in the newsroom, she is told she is “exhibit A.”

The numbers showed that during my eight years as managing editor, my salary lagged behind one of the male masthead editors I outranked. My current salary was what [previous executive editor Bill] Keller’s starting salary had been in 2003, a full decade earlier.


3. If you don’t enforce your priorities, someone else will enforce theirs on you.

Years ago in a job interview, I was asked how I would manage competing requests for my time. I remember saying something about evaluating which tasks were the most urgent/important and doing those first. (Clearly not a terrible answer, since I ended up getting the job.)

A couple of weeks ago, looking at an inbox full of client requests that didn’t align with my schedule for the day, I reflected that it was equally important to not let other people’s priorities dictate yours.

Abramson’s essay is a case in point. Abramson was hired as executive editor largely for her reporting skills - which she put to use driving Pulitzer-winning stories like the NYT’s investigation of Apple’s business practices in China and David Barboza’s exposé of the vast wealth secretly acquired by family members of China’s rulers. But much of her day-today was spent in meeting rooms talking about “new digital products meant to generate revenue, like a cooking app.”

This isn’t to place the blame on Abramson: she was editing the NYT at a moment of enormous upheaval for the whole industry (which is what her book is about) and she clearly wasn’t surrounded by allies.

But it is a reminder that if you don’t set boundaries around how you spend your time, someone else will set them for you.

4. Stay open to new ideas.

At the heart of Abramson’s essay is the central conflict between her desire to maintain the NYT’s credibility as a news organization, and the desire of the new CEO Mark Thompson to make the newspaper competitive with new online competitors like Buzzfeed, Vice, and the Huffington Post.

Where Abramson wants to play to the NYT’s strength in news and investigations, Thompson wants to create monetizable subscription products. Where Thompson wanted to increase revenue through native advertising, Abramson wanted to maintain a strict division between journalists who wrote sponsored content and those who wrote for the rest of the paper.

At one point, during a meeting where Thompson suggests that news staff develop ideas for revenue-generating content, Abramson snaps and declares, “If that’s what you expect, you have the wrong executive editor.”

Ultimately, both Abramson and Thompson were right - the NYT needed to develop new sources of revenue and it needed to protect its credibility as a new source. And at the conclusion of her essay, Abramson graciously acknowledges that under then-publisher Sulzberger’s leadership the Times navigated the digital disruption better than most of its competitors.

5. Avoiding conflict will bite you in the ass.

Abramson learns that the Guardian’s Janine Gibson is returning to the UK, and wants to offer her a job at the NYT. “The idea of having a true partner, another woman who had made brave journalism decisions and was forging her way into the future, appealed to me immensely,” she writes.

There’s just one problem: Gibson and Dean Baquet, Abramson’s deputy, don’t get on. On the advice of CEO Mark Thompson, Abramson stalls on sharing with Baquet that she will be offering Gibson the job, telling him instead that she will be considering several people. Baquet soon finds out she lied to him, goes to Sulzberger to complain, and the next morning Abramson is fired and told that Baquet will be the new executive editor.

Wanting to avoid giving someone news that will upset them, or not wanting to own up to something that will make you look bad, is normal. Most people hate confrontation. But dealing with potential conflicts as soon as they arise is always better than letting them fester.

And as Abramson’s example shows, there’s no quicker way to escalate an unpleasant situation than to obfuscate in an attempt to avoid it.

Did you read the Abramson essay, too? What lessons did you take from it?



The Powerbitches Interview: Shanthony Exum

Shanthony Exum. AKA Miss Eaves

Shanthony Exum. AKA Miss Eaves

Shanthony Exum, better known as viral music sensation Miss Eaves, is a force to be reckoned with. A multi-media artist whose work spans music, video, paper mache and fine art, her fierce femcee electro-pop-rap-dance-explosions celebrate confident women who aren’t afraid to love themselves and have landed her on lists of feminist anthems alongside legends like Beyonce.

When Powerbitches picked up the phone with Shanthony this week, she was plotting a new EP and accompanying music video. By the end of our conversation, she had gotten an email from a TV show that wanted to license one of her songs.

You can catch Shanthony in person at our next Powerbitches Salon on February 19 (tickets here).

Powerbitches: When did you start making music?

Shanthony Exum: About 10 years ago, when I was 26. I was living in this artsy town [Winston-Salem, NC] where everyone was in a band - all my friends were in a band, my boyfriend at the time was in a band... so I thought hey, I want to do that too.

My boyfriend and I started a band together, even though I didn’t have any real credentials at the time. It was a noisy electro party band, and I was writing songs about eating snacks, Smurfs, and wearing spandex pants.

The band was pretty bad, because I was still learning how to rap. But as an artist, I’ve never stopped myself from doing something because I don’t know how to do it. I just try to figure it out and get better along the way.

PB: And when did you realize it was something you wanted to pursue more seriously?

SE: I was 28 when I started Miss Eaves. My ex and I broke up, and I still wanted to make music, so I started making my own beats and putting out these little demos. Very quickly I found that people were more interested in my solo work than the stuff I was doing with the band.

In 2012, I put out a song called Diva Pop and made my first music video as Miss Eaves for it. This DJ in Belgium saw it, and invited me to collaborate with him and go there on tour.

I coincidentally was leaving for tour right after I got laid off from my job in North Carolina. I wasn’t super happy at that point, and wanted to start taking my music more seriously, and live in a bigger city. So instead of going home when the tour was over I got off my connection in Newark NJ and moved to a tiny apartment in Sunset Park in Brooklyn. I started freelancing, spending more money on making music videos, and really pushing things.

PB: What drives your work?

SE: I think my art is driven by my experiences. I’ll start with something that frustrates me and I think is probably universally annoying. I’ll try to write something that is true to myself, taking out all the stuff that is super super specific to me.

“Chub rub” is the feeling I have when I wear a sundress as someone with thick thighs, and Paper Mache is about the fact that the first thing people want to talk to me about is whether I’ve seeing someone, even though I’m making all this cool art. I take things that no one else is really talking about in music, ask how do I feel about this, and how do I capture that vibe?

“A viral hit is a big crack in the wall, but the wall is still there.”
- Shanthony Exum

Still from the video for one of Shanthony’s songs, Thunder Thighs.

Still from the video for one of Shanthony’s songs, Thunder Thighs.

PB: You had what most people would consider to be your “big break” in 2017, when your song Thunder Thighs became a viral summer hit. What was that experience like?

SE: Thunder Thighs was definitely my biggest song so far. I kind of see it as a fluke. My song before that, Hump Day, had done well and my fan base was growing steadily. I’ve always loved this quote by the artist Molly Crabapple that there’s no such thing as a big break, there’s just tiny cracks in a wall of indifference.  A viral hit is a big crack in the wall, but the wall is still there.

At first it was really hard, like “I’m never going to be able to live up to this.” When you have a viral hit, everyone’s like, “Can you write another Thunder Thighs?” That’s not how it works. What I do isn’t marketing. It’s art. Thunder Thighs was a fluke. I wrote that song because I felt it. I can’t replicate it. I’m not a musical robot.

It was a little crippling. I thought I wasn’t going to write anything again. Then Rich Matthew gave me this beat, and I wrote the song Paper Mache, and a lot of people were into it. I wrote my EP Me AF. I learned that I have to just write art for art’s sake and not try to write Thunder Thighs over and over again, even if people are pressuring me to do that.

“If you’re making art to please other people, it’s not going to work.” - Shanthony Exum

PB: I love how you spoke before about how when you first started, you didn’t care that you weren’t all that good, you just wanted to work at getting better. How does this ethos of constant improvement play out in your art now?

SE: For me, it’s about learning from other people. If I like an artist, I’ll deconstruct everything they’re doing and try to figure out how I can apply those concepts to my work. I really value critiques from friends, asking, do these lyrics make sense? I learned from talking to other rappers that I used to overuse metaphors and similes - it gets boring after a while. Also, practicing a lot. Before I go to the studio I’ve already gone through the song 20 or 30 times to make sure it sounds right.

If you’re doing stuff to please other people, it’s not going to work. Every time you make a piece of art, work to make it better than the last piece you made.

PB: What are the biggest challenges facing musicians today? How do you navigate them?

SE: It’s really hard to be heard. There are so many people who are making music and it’s hard to stand out, especially when you’re competing against these giant artists. When everyone is only talking about Cardi B - Cardi B is cool, but it’s hard for indie artists to be seen and heard over these huge music machines.

I’m still trying to figure it out. I’m still pushing, making music, investing in myself. I put a lot of money into my own work.

PB: What advice would you offer to other women wanting to launch a career in music in the current climate?

SE: Be prepared to put in the work. A lot of times, people get really caught up in the glamor of it all. They want to play these big shows, go on tour, and they haven’t even written a song yet. If you want to have a lasting career, it has to be a slower build.

[Shanthony receives an email saying that a popular TV show wants to license one of her songs.]

See, I always feel discouraged and then stuff like that comes though. So that’s another bit of advice I give - not to get discouraged. You have to believe in the work and do it for the work’s sake, rather than doing it for other people’s approval.

And invest in yourself. People will go out to eat, go to bars… why are we not putting that money back into our projects? For this new video I’m working on, I’ll be paying for it out of pocket. But now I might be paying for it out of this TV money!

Shanthony Exum will be in conversation with Powerbitches founder Rachel Hills at our February Salon event. Click here for more information and to secure your tickets.

Editor’s Letter: A More Meaningful Way Of Talking About Work

There’s an adage that Americans begin conversations by asking what you do for a living, while people from other, presumably more sophisticated countries (France, Italy, even my home country of Australia, according to a recent article by New York Times columnist Bari Weiss) ask you where your family’s from, where you like to go on vacation, or your favorite condiment to add to your avocado toast.

This tendency, we are supposed to think, is a symptom of a lack of imagination. To speak first about work is to reduce a person to their economic status, to say that what we do to earn a living is more important than what we do for leisure.

And to some degree, I get it. I too hate being asked “what I do” - as a self-employed person juggling multiple roles and projects, I lack the easy shorthand of a title and job description that clearly and quickly answers the question.

But I LOVE talking about work. More, perhaps, than anything else.

Talking about work isn’t inherently unimaginative or superficial. At their best, conversations about work can be a form of rich interpersonal engagement, a way of asking someone: What do you care about? What are you doing to make the world better, more beautiful, or more interesting? What are you finding difficult about making that happen? How are you working through those challenges? And what are you learning about yourself and others in the process?

These are the conversations that have formed the foundations of many of my closest friendships, and they are the types of questions that form the basis of every Powerbitches event: be it a group conversation about money, an intimate dinner with a leading artist and musician, or an evening spent brainstorming our way through the challenges our members are facing in the projects they’re working on.

These conversations aren’t just more interesting than the standard “what do you do” conversation. They also build a greater depth of connection and understanding. So, how do we have more of them?

One answer is to get more specific. To go beyond the easy shorthand of the one- or two-word answer (a relief for people like me, who don’t have one) to explain what we actually do, and to be curious enough to encourage others to do the same. Another is to be more expansive in our definition of what work is - “I’m a designer/lawyer/babysitter, but what I’m really excited about is...”

Finally, we can move beyond the “what” of our work to the “why.” Why do you do what you do? What contribution do you want to make? And if your current job isn’t the best vehicle through which to make that contribution, where else could you make it?

Talking about work doesn’t have to be meaningless small talk. It can be the basis of some of the most meaningful and exciting conversations we have.