I smiled into the camera, trying to recover from nearly choking on the name.
“Lily, thanks so much for joining me.”Ollie’s smile was warm and genuine.“Let’s start with something fun.You’re always so put-together in the paddock.What’s your secret?Do you have a pre-race beauty routine?”
Was this the question Ollie had mentioned?
I forced my smile wider, channeling every media training session Bertha had ever subjected me to.When you’re one of a handful of women in the paddock, you try to avoid answering questions that typically wouldn’t be asked of the men.Still, I’d told Ollie I’d keep an open mind.
“You know, I just try to stay hydrated and get enough sleep when I can.Racing takes a lot out of you physically, so recovery is key.”
A solid answer.
Ollie nodded enthusiastically, like I’d just revealed the secrets of the universe instead of basic athlete maintenance.
“Absolutely.”He leaned in, giving me a thumbs-up.“All right, Lil, here’s the next one.F1 is such a male-dominated sport, as we know.Tell us, how do you cope with being a woman in this environment?”
Let’s hope they’re not all like this.
My smile felt plastered on.“I try not to think about it that way.Each year, more and more women are on the grid.We’re drivers, engineers, part of leadership teams.So, you know, I’m just focused on driving the car as fast as possible, same as anyone else on the grid.”
“Of course, of course.”He leaned forward, all earnest concern.“But you must face unique challenges as a woman.”He motioned, and I could tell he was trying to get more out of me.“Like, how do you handle the physical demands?F1 cars require significant upper-body strength.Do you have to train differently than the male drivers?”
“Like all the drivers, I have a personalized training plan put out by my team.No driver’s training plan matches,” I said, keeping my voice even.“It’s all very individualized across the entire sport.I don’t think you’ll find any driver has an exact routine that matches another, so it’s less about me being a woman, and more about me being an individual.”
Something flickered across Ollie’s face—confusion, maybe, or the first hint that this wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d hoped.But I wasn’t sure what he expected me to say.Admit that as a woman I wasn’t as physically capable?Because that almost felt like what the question was implying.
“Now, tell me, how do you deal with the emotional side of racing?Women are naturally more in touch with their emotions.Does that help or hurt you in high-pressure situations?”
Women are naturally more in touch with their emotions?Ollie, to his credit, did give me a quick apologetic side-eye.Even he knew this one was purely for clickbait.
But I could do this.I’d been trained my entire life to answer sexist questions.“Everyone experiences pressure differently, regardless of gender.What matters is how you channel it.”
“And speaking of pressure,”—Ollie flipped to another page on his notes—“do you feel pressure to dress up all the time?To represent women in motorsport in a certain way?”
“I wear what the team or sponsors give me, just like everyone else.”For that one, I couldn’t smile.“Truthfully, I’m probably one of the least fashionable drivers on the grid.Luca definitely has better style than me.”
“Right, but you mustthinkabout it more, surely?I mean, you’re always so stylish—”
“Ollie, the only thing I’m focused on during race weekends is lap times.”The words came out frustrated, but I couldn’t stop the burning inside me.“Fashion isn’t really on my mind when I’m preparing for a race weekend.Getting the car set up properly, analyzing data, working with my engineers—that’s where my focus is.”
Movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention.Someone entering the studio, probably another driver waiting for their slot with whatever unfortunate segment they’d been assigned to.
Then I saw who it was.
Henri.
He stood just inside the doorway, freshly emerged from makeup but still in his Hermes team shirt, hair artfully disheveled in that way that had probably taken someone twenty minutes to perfect.His expression was carefully neutral, but his dark eyes were locked on the interview with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
Great.Just what I need, an audience for these terrible questions.
“Let’s talk about balance,” Ollie continued, mercifully unaware of Henri’s presence.“How do you balance the demands of racing with your personal life?Dating, friendships, self-care?”
“I don’t really think about it in terms of balance,” I said, aware of Henri watching this train wreck unfold.“During the season, racing is my life.Everything else has to fit around it in terms of priorities.”
“But surely you must have hobbies?Interests outside of motorsport?”Ollie’s smile was encouraging, like he was trying to coax a shy child into speaking.“What do you like to do to relax?Spa days?Shopping?”
I could see Henri’s eyebrow raise slightly.That subtle lift that I’d learned to recognize over three years of competing against him.He was absolutely judging this entire situation, and by extension, probably judging me for participating in it.
As if I have a choice.I couldn’t just walk out of a scheduled interview because the questions were patronizing and misogynistic.
