She knew she had hit the glass ceiling when she was passed over for promotion and a less able, less experienced man got the job.
She saw that she was condemned, was being made responsible not for anything she had done, but simply for being a woman.
She saw that as far as the boss was concerned, she was in the wrong merely for being the gender that she was.
She stared across the open plan offices, over the heads of the typists typing away, and she saw the janitor hovering near the glass door, waiting until it was time for him to come in and start clearing the wastebaskets.
She already understood that gender and racial differences were two strands of the same thread, but never before had she felt it so strongly.