The Me Too movement cast a long shadow over Hollywood, ultimately reaching the doors of animation giant Pixar and leading to the ousting of its chief creative officer, John Lasseter. After decades of alleged abuse of power at both Pixar and Disney, Lasseter’s departure was seen as a victory. However, a critical question remains unanswered: how deeply ingrained were John Lasseter’s sexist attitudes within Pixar’s culture, and what lasting impact did they have on the women who worked there? As a former graphic designer at Pixar in her twenties, I can attest to the pervasive sexism that permeated the studio – a reality that likely continues to this day. My experience at Pixar underscored a harsh truth: being a woman was a significant barrier to professional growth, respect, and even basic security within the company. The constant stress of navigating a blatantly sexist environment was a major factor in my decision to leave the animation industry altogether.
When I first joined Pixar as an intern, it felt like a dream come true. That initial excitement, however, was quickly replaced by a sense of dread. Whispers and warnings about John Lasseter’s inappropriate behavior towards women were rampant. I was immediately told about his reputation for being overly touchy-feely and for consistently crossing professional boundaries with female employees. It was disheartening to learn, right from the outset, that as a woman, I was entering a workplace where disrespect and harassment were not only tolerated but seemingly endemic, even within a renowned company located in a progressive city. I was also cautioned to avoid a particularly chauvinistic male lead in my department. Disturbingly, much like John Lasseter himself, this individual had a long history of alleged vulgar and unprofessional conduct directed at women, yet his position and behavior remained largely unchecked.
My own uncomfortable experiences began just weeks into my internship. In a company kitchen, this department head cornered me and subjected me to sexually charged comments while openly staring at my body. Over the next five years at Pixar, I endured countless unwelcome and objectifying interactions, not only with this department head but also with John Lasseter and other men within the company. I was physically groped by a male coworker and routinely sidelined from projects due to an informal “boys’ club” casting system that favored men.
The impact of this sexist environment on my career was starkly illustrated when I began working on “Cars 2.” A superior informed me that I was being excluded from all weekly art department meetings. The reason? John Lasseter, I was told, “has a hard time controlling himself” around young women. This decision was devastating. My ability to contribute to the filmmaking process, and consequently my career advancement, was directly and negatively impacted simply because of my gender. It became painfully clear that the institution was prioritizing the protection of John Lasseter, even if it meant sacrificing the opportunities and well-being of women like myself.
John Lasseter’s inappropriate behavior wasn’t confined to private settings; it was often on public display. In casual encounters on the Pixar campus, Lasseter would subject me, and countless other women, to lecherous up-and-down glances and unwanted hugs or touches. These encounters, witnessed by the entire Pixar workforce, sent a clear message: women were viewed as sex objects. The annual Pixar Halloween bash became another stage for Lasseter’s blatant sexism. If he found a woman attractive when she took the stage, he would ask her to spin around while making suggestive remarks, turning a company-wide event into a demeaning spectacle.
Lasseter’s overt sexism established a toxic tone from the top, emboldening others to behave in ways that resembled a fraternity house rather than a professional workplace. I vividly recall a director, in front of the entire company, comparing his latest film to “a big-titted blond who was difficult to nail down,” a joke that was met with audible gasps of disapproval but no apparent repercussions for the director.
Amidst this challenging environment, I found solace and strength in the shared experiences of my female coworkers. We confided in each other and realized that many of us had been subjected to inappropriate touching, demeaning comments, and systemic marginalization by men within the company. We understood what it was like to be consistently talked over in meetings, to have our ideas dismissed, and to be passed over for important assignments, while less qualified men in our departments were often given more responsibility than they could handle. We even developed dark humor to cope, joking about the clammy and awkward interactions we had with our socially inept, “manolescent” male colleagues, often recognizable by their uniform of Hawaiian shirts and graphic tees.
We each developed our own strategies to navigate a system that seemed designed to protect powerful men at all costs – men who frequently treated us as outsiders or mere objects. Driven by our passion for animation and our desire to remain part of one of the world’s most innovative companies, many of us chose to remain silent about these disheartening experiences. We understood the high price of speaking out. We had witnessed the professional repercussions for women who dared to question male superiors – they were often labeled “difficult,” found it hard to get staffed on subsequent projects, and in some cases, were even laid off or demoted.
Management teams across Pixar were known for quietly cleaning up the messes created by powerful male leaders, regardless of their misconduct or problematic leadership styles. Conversely, the company’s few female leaders often lacked institutional backing and basic respect. Female leaders were frequently placed in impossible situations, forced to either downplay their abilities to make men feel more comfortable or to assert their authority and risk being branded as “difficult” or “unlikeable.”
The 2010 dismissal of Brenda Chapman as director of “Brave,” and her replacement by a man, was perceived by many within Pixar as further evidence of the studio’s deeply entrenched gender bias. This pattern of double standards was later mirrored in my own observations of several articulate and highly capable female leads who were unfairly vilified within the Pixar “whisper network” as “bitches” simply for being assertive and demanding respect.
In one particularly egregious example, a female lead in my department pleaded with her male superiors for adequate team support to complete a demanding production project. Her requests were repeatedly ignored until the overwhelming stress of the job led to a psychological and physical breakdown. When she was forced to take a leave of absence to recover, her male replacement was immediately provided with a team of half a dozen artists to assist him with the very same tasks she had been struggling with alone.
My own experience culminated in a perplexing performance review after my fourth production. It reinforced the feeling that I would never be truly valued by the company. The lengthy “negative” feedback section included criticisms such as “designs too many options; seems like she’s trying too hard; asks too many questions.” When I shared this baffling review with my male mentor, who openly acknowledged the pervasive sexism at Pixar, he offered a blunt assessment: “If you were a man, every one of those negatives would be in the positive column.” Physically and emotionally exhausted after years of hitting the glass ceiling at Pixar, I made the difficult decision to leave at the age of 30, hoping to find a workplace where my talents and contributions would be genuinely recognized and valued.
John Lasseter’s leadership established a shamefully low standard for the treatment of women at Pixar. This pervasive sexism also raises serious concerns about the underlying themes present in the films he directed, produced, and oversaw for years. These films, which have shaped the imaginations of millions of children and adults worldwide, have consistently failed to provide equal representation and voice to women, both on screen and behind the camera.
The decision to replace John Lasseter with Jennifer Lee at Disney and Pete Docter at Pixar offers a glimmer of hope for meaningful change. However, dismantling John Lasseter’s deeply ingrained legacy will require more than simply replacing one executive. Addressing such deeply rooted biases demands a deliberate and conscientious effort to identify, confront, and dismantle the systemic sexism that permeated Pixar under his leadership.
Disney and Pixar have a responsibility to fully recognize that women and underrepresented minorities are just as capable, talented, complex, and dimensional as the predominantly white and male fraternity that has historically dominated animation. Female narratives are not niche interests; they are vital stories worthy of world-class storytellers. Women deserve to be treated as respected equals in every creative community, and it is time for Pixar to truly embody this principle and create a genuinely inclusive and equitable environment for all its employees.
Cassandra Smolcic is a freelance graphic designer, photographer, and writer. She worked at Pixar from 2009 to 2014. This is adapted from a longer essay.
