Women offer advice on making it in a man's world



Shaking up the world of sushi: NIKI NAKAYAMA

"I realized at some point that I don't need to think like a man in order to produce things that men produce. I just need to go my own way and stay focused."

At first glance, it may seem as if Niki Nakayama was born to be a sushi chef. Her parents own a fish-distribution company in California, and she grew up surrounded by seafood of all kinds.

But it was only later, in culinary school, that something clicked: Japanese cuisine suddenly made sense to her and, she realized, fit her personality.

"Growing up, I thought to myself that I would never sell fish for a living," Niki says, "but I'm still peddling fish—just at a different level."

At her Los Angeles restaurant, n/naka, which opened in 2011, Niki focuses exclusively on kaiseki, a traditional Japanese multi-course dining experience. She says that hers is the only restaurant in L.A. fully dedicated to kaiseki—which requires a rare type of restaurant and a rare type of chef.

She has faced challenges. Sushi chefs are overwhelmingly male, and Japanese culture bolsters this man's world. At Niki's previous restaurant—a sushi bar—a Japanese businessman saw her behind the bar and promptly walked out. At n/naka, Niki decided against having an open kitchen where diners could see her cooking to avoid a repeat experience.

"It's better that the guests just focus on the food versus who's making the food," she says. "With Japanese food, it's so easy to have an idea of what your chef should look like."

But, for her, every obstacle has led to a new opportunity or a creative solution. She has learned to follow her intuition, in cooking and in life.

"When you do something for so long," she says, "instincts take over and there's a natural trust in what we're doing and in myself. That's very gratifying."

Shaking up the world of higher ed: REBECCA CHOPP

"Some of fearlessness is about trusting in your own capacity—believing that you can figure it out, knowing that you do have the ability to step forward."

Rebecca Chopp is a woman of many firsts. She was the first in her family to go to college. She was the first female provost at Emory University, the first female dean of Yale Divinity School and the first female president at both Colgate University and, since 2009, Swarthmore College.

But Rebecca's earliest years could not have predicted a lifetime of trailblazing. As a child, she suffered from a severe speech impediment and did not speak until she was in third grade. Because of her disability, she learned to read at a very young age. She consumed words and ideas voraciously. And she wanted more.

But higher education wasn't a priority in her family or something many young women did in Kansas in the 1960s. Still, she found a way. She majored in theology, served as the minister at a church at just 19 and eventually attended seminary and graduate school.

"For me, it was really about access to opportunities and about people who believed in me," she says. "Doors opened for me, and I walked through them."

After more than 30 years in education, she is most proud, she says, of being able to open doors for other young people—especially women, minority students and first-generation college students like herself.

"I have worked hard to make sure everyone has a place at the table," she says.

Rebecca has faced her share of challenges, from bishops and congregants troubled by a female minister to male students saying they couldn't learn from a woman. But, she says, the positive stories far outnumber the negative ones.

"Maybe I've just forgotten the obstacles," she says. "Maybe that's a good thing: Remember the people who've helped and be one of those for others."

Shaking up the world of Indy racing: ANNA CHATTEN

"No matter what it takes, you really, really need to have a job that you love doing. Anytime we're doing what we love doing, you're always going to be successful at it."

At age 8, when many of her friends were playing with Cabbage Patch Kids or swapping Lisa Frank stickers, Anna Chatten was picking up a wrench for the first time.

Chatten's father raced go-karts, and she wanted to do it, too. Her parents agreed, on one condition: that she maintained and repaired her own go-kart. Her father taught her how, and she's been fixing vehicles ever since.

"I can't remember a day when I didn't have tools or didn't know how to use a tool," she says.

Now 34, Anna is the only female mechanic for IndyCar. She maintains the gearbox for Panther Racing's No. 4 car and mans the air jack in the six-member "over the wall" crew on race days.

After graduating from high school, Anna, then 17, moved from her hometown of Peoria, Ill., to Sonoma, Calif., to attend a one-year auto racing–mechanics school. Anna quickly learned that not everyone was as supportive of her career choice as her parents had been.

"People didn't take me seriously, by any means," she says. But she doesn't dwell on the negative, adding, "I laugh about it now."

During her first five years on the racing circuit, she fought hard to earn respect in this man's world. Now, after 15 years in the business, she says, it's gotten much easier. She loves her job, which, she says, makes her no different from the men out on the track. And she has no intention of doing anything else for a living.

"I do it for the same reasons that they all do it," Anna says. "I just happen to be female."
