At the height of Harvard's presidential search two years ago, differences between two prevalent reporting styles became a running joke at the Crimson. One type of reporter was the "schmooze," known for long conversations with sources, skilled at cajoling information out of the less-than-willing-to-divulge.

Another was the hard-edged investigative reporter, who relishes in the thrill of the chase, in asking the tough questions, in nailing wrongdoers with incriminating evidence in the form of government documents.

Each member of the team that covered the presidential search--two men, two women--used both methods. But, according to one of those reporters, the women's main strength was in the schmoozing; the men, in general, were stronger in the hard-edged roles.

Depending on the big story at the time, depending on the editors in charge, tough-as-nails investigative reporting has been emphasized and deemphasized at The Crimson. But during my tenure here, the people who have gravitated to hard-edged reporting have been overwhelmingly male.

That's not to say that men don't often make terrific shmoozers. And it's not to say that women can't be great at combative journalism; some of the best investigative reporters in the country are women, including Nieman Fellow and Dallas Morning News reporter Olive Talley.

But if we pare away the exceptions, we might find a nugget of truth. Does our society tend to make women uncomfortable in an atmosphere that glorifies confrontation? Do cultural standards turn women away from reporting and, later, from leadership positions, which by their nature require a certain contentiousness? Do women shy away from Crimson editorial meetings--which are often heated and argumentative--for the same reason?

The problems women face at The Crimson are not unique to The Crimson. Other campus organizations confront similar cultural difficulties. Women face cultural barriers in classes and sections. In Harvard's sometimes confrontational, sometimes contentious discourse, women often struggle to make their voices heard.

But recognizing those problems doesn't bring us closer to removing them. And The Crimson has a responsibility to remove them. Before women can truly be equals in this organization--before the number of women who reach the top is proportional to the number of women who join in the first place--we need to make some cultural changes. The Crimson needs to accept and embrace more than one style of discourse in editorial meetings and in the newsroom.

It's time to read the writing on the bathroom wall.

Of the 40 Crimson executives this year, only 11 are women.