If you manage a team, who are your teammates? If you're a staff software engineer embedded in a product team, who are your teammates? The answer to the question comes down to who your main responsibility lies with. That's not the folks you're managing and leading. Your responsibility lies with your fellow leaders, and they're your teammates. The first team mentality There's a concept in leadership called the first team mentality. If you're a leader, then you're a member of a couple of different teams at the same time. Using myself as an example, I'm a member of the company's leadership team (along with the heads of marketing, sales, product, etc.), and I'm also a member of the engineering department's leadership team (along with the engineering directors and managers and the CTO). I'm also sometimes embedded into a team for a project, and at one point I was running a 3-person platform team day-to-day. So I'm on at least two teams, but often three or more. Which of these is my "first" team, the one which I will prioritize over all the others? For my role, that's ultimately the company leadership. Each department is supposed to work toward the company goals, and so if there's an inter-department conflict you need to do what's best for the company—helping your fellow department heads—rather than what's best for your department. (Ultimately, your job is to get both of these into alignment; more on that later.) This applies across roles. If you're an engineering manager, your teammates are not the people who report to you. Your teammates are the other engineering managers and staff engineers at your level. You all are working together toward department goals, and sometimes the team has to sacrifice to make that happen. Focus on the bigger goals One of the best things about a first team mentality is that it comes with a shift in where your focus is. You have to focus on the broader goals your group is working in service of, instead of focusing on your group's individual work. I don't think you can achieve either without the other. When you zoom out from the team you lead or manage and collaborate with your fellow leaders, you gain context from them. You see what their teams are working on, and you can contextualize your work with theirs. And you also see how your work impacts theirs, both positively and negatively. That broader context gives you a reminder of the bigger, broader goals. It can also show you that those goals are unclear. And if that's the case, then the work you're doing in your individual teams doesn't matter, because no one is going in the same direction! What's more important there is to focus on figuring out what the bigger goals should be. And once those are done, then you can realign each of your groups around them. Conflicts are a lens Sometimes the first team mentality will result in a conflict. There's something your group wants or needs, which will result in a problem for another group. Ultimately, this is your work to resolve, and the conflict is a lens you can use to see misalignment and to improve the greater organization. You have to find a way to make sure that your group is healthy and able to thrive. And you also have to make sure that your group works toward collective success, which means helping all the groups achieve success. Any time you run into a conflict like this, it means that something went wrong in alignment. Either your group was doing something which worked against its own goal, or it was doing something which worked against another group's goal. If the latter, then that means that the goals themselves fundamentally conflicted! So you go and you take that conflict, and you work through it. You work with your first team—and you figure out what the mismatch is, where it came from, and most importantly, what we do to resolve it. Then you take those new goals back to your group. And you do it with humility, since you're going to have to tell them that you made a mistake. Because that alignment is ultimately your job, and you have to own your failures if you expect your team to be able to trust you and trust each other.

Code ownership is a popular concept, but it emphasizes the wrong thing. It can bring out the worst in a person or a team: defensiveness, control-seeking, power struggles. Instead, we should be focusing on stewardship. How code ownership manifests Code ownership as a concept means that a particular person or team "owns" a section of the codebase. This gives them certain rights and responsibilities: They control what goes into the code, and can approve or deny changes They are responsible for fixing bugs in that part of the code They are responsible for maintaining and improving that part of the code There are tools that help with these, like the CODEOWNERS file on GitHub. This file lets you define a group or list of individuals who own a section of the repository. Then you can require reviews/approvals from them before anything gets merged. These are all coming from a good place. We want our code to be well-maintained, and we want to make sure that someone is responsible for its direction. It really helps to know who to go to with questions or requests. Without these, changes can grind to a halt, mired in confusion and tech debt. But the concept in practice brings challenges. If you've worked on a team using code ownership before, you've probably run into: that engineer who guards the code against anyone else's changes, wanting all the credit for themselves that engineer who refuses to add anything else to their codebase, because they don't want to maintain it that engineer who tries to gain code ownership over more areas, to control more of the code and more of the company I've done certainly acted badly due to code ownership, without realizing what I was doing or or why I was doing it at the time. There are almost endless ways that code ownership can bring out the worst in people. And it all makes sense. We can do better by shifting to stewardship instead of ownership. Stewardship is about service We are all stewards of things we own or are responsible for. I have stewardship over the house I live in with my family, for example. I also have stewardship over the espresso machine I use every day: It's a big piece of machinery, and it's my responsibility to take good care of it and to ensure that as long as it's mine, it operates well and lasts a long time. That reduces expense, reduces waste, and reduces impact on the world—but it also means that the object (an espresso machine) is serving its purpose to bring joy and connection. Code is no different. By focusing on stewardship rather than ownership, we are focusing on the responsible, sustainable maintenance of the code. We focus on taking good care of that which we're entrusted with. A steward doesn't jealously guard, or struggle to gain more power. A steward watches what her responsibilities are, ensuring enough to contribute but not so many as to burn out. And she nurtures and cares for the code, to make sure that it continues to serve its purpose. Instead of an adversarial relationship, stewardship promotes partnership: It promotes working with others to figure out how to make the best use of resources, instead of hoarding them for yourself. Stewardship can solve many of the same problems that code ownership does: It gives you someone who's a main point of contact for some code It grants someone responsibility for bug fixes and maintenance of that code And in some ways, they look alike. You're going to do a lot of the same things, controlling what goes in or out. But they are very different in the focus. Owners are concerned with the value of what they own. Stewards are concerned with how well it can serve the group. And this makes all the difference in producing better outcomes.

After I wrote YARR (Yet Another Rust Resource, with requisite pirate mentions), one of my friends tried it out. He gave me some really useful insights as he went through it, letting me see what was hard about learning Rust from a newcomer's perspective. Unsurprisingly, lifetimes are a challenge—and seeing him go through it helped me understand why they're hard to learn. Here are a few of the challenges he ran into. I don't think that these are necessarily problems, but they're perhaps opportunities to improve educational materials. They don't map 100% to how long a variable is in memory My friend gave me an example he's seen a few times when people explain lifetimes. fn longest<'a>(x: &'a str, y: &'a str) -> &'a str { if x.len() > y.len() { x } else { y } } And for many newcomers, you see this and you expect it is saying that x and y both have the lifetime 'a, so they live the same amount of time. But the following is valid: fn print_longest(x: &'static str) { let y = "local"; let a = longest(x, y); println!("{a}"); drop(a); drop(y); println!("y is gone"); } In this example, x and y live for different amounts of time. y doesn't even survive to the end of the function, whereas x should be valid for the entire duration of the program. That's because lifetimes are talking about a bound on the time something can live. There's some lifetime 'a during which we can say that x and y are both certainly valid. But x and y can both live longer than 'a. Lifetimes don't change the runtime behavior Most code we write changes what the program does at runtime. Types can be different, because sometimes you're giving the compiler information about what something is. But most type information can change the runtime behavior! The simplest example is when you have an integer. You can declare one without a type. let x = 10; This has an inferred type, and if you set a different type, like u8, you'll get different behavior at run time. let x: u8 = 10; In contrast, lifetimes are only used by the compiler to ensure that borrows are all valid. The compiler can reject your program if invalid borrows are performed, but the binary output should not be affected by the lifetimes of the variables. It's a different kind of type system We're used to seeing types in our programming languages, and these type systems are usually pretty similar. Rust's lifetimes are different, though. The borrow checker uses a linear type system to do its work. These are super cool, and something that I don't understand particularly well. I'm familiar with how to use the borrow checker, but I don't know any of the theory behind them. The premise, as I understand it, is that objects can be used exactly once, allowing you to safely deallocate it after use (since it won't be used again). This prevents multiple concurrent uses (yay, data race protection!) or use-after-free (yay, segfault protection!). The coolness is why we have it, but it's still pretty tough to understand. You have to learn this whole new type system that's pretty different from everything else you've touched. And most of the resources1 out there don't even mention that it's a different kind of type system! They share syntax with generics Another challenge is that the syntax is shared with generics. Even though lifetimes are very different in behavior and type system from generics, they sit inside very similar looking syntax. This is probably unavoidable—lifetimes are related to all the other types in your code—but it certainly makes things harder to learn. When you see something like this, you expect that it's generic over a type. fn something_generic<T>(arg: T) { ... } And you're right that it is! But then you have something that looks very similar, like this. And you might expect it to also be generic over a type. fn something_generic<'a>(arg: &'a str) { ... } But it's not, in the normal sense. Instead it's generic over a lifetime. And that's a little confusing that those sit in the same spot, especially when it's not called out as a potential gotcha in learning materials. * * * Lifetimes have some inherent complexity. The borrow checker is a very valuable tool, and it's great we have it! But with that power and complexity can come challenges in learning, and teaching, the underlying concepts. I think the current difficulty in learning Rust is due to a lot of things. One aspect is certainly some inherent complexity. But another aspect is that many resources aren't really geared toward the kind of programmer coming to Rust without this background knowledge, and there is room for improvement. We can make explanations of lifetimes and the borrow checker better and less confusing. Or we can at least make them more empathetic, projecting that it's expected to be confused because there are some good reasons it's hard to understand. And that you'll get there, eventually. Thank you, Ryan, for generously sharing your thoughts as you went through learning Rust. Our conversations were instrumental in writing this post. 1 I suppose, as the author of YARR, I can fix this in at least one instance.

Last week, I finally got verified on LinkedIn. Now there's a little badge next to my name that says "yes, she's a human who is legally named Nicole." Their marketing for verification says that I should now expect 60% more profile views and 50% more comments and reactions. For a writer like me, that seems great. More people viewing my content means more people can learn from me, or be entertained by me. And all that for free? There's a problem, of course. Nicole is my legal name, so I was able to get verified as a result. But many people don't go by their legal name. Other names are common So who doesn't go by their legal name? I didn't, for years after my wife and I got married. I went by an alias—our hyphenated last name—without legally changing it. I wasn't eligible to get verified then, since that name was not on my ID. I didn't, when I came out as transgender. It takes time to change your name and update your documents. Until that was complete, I would have had to go by my deadname or lose verification. And what about women who change their name when they get married, but go by their previous name professionally? This is an alias, and it is their name even though it's not what the government knows them as. But they would lose verification for doing this. Anyone who goes by a nickname or alias is ineligible. I have many friends who go by a different name than what their ID shows. This isn't fraudulent—it just reflects who they are. Penalized for being yourself And yet, if you fall into any case where you cannot get verified, then you can't get the benefits. You can't get your extra profile views and extra comments. Or put another way: you're penalized for not being verified. You'll get about 40% fewer profile views and 33% fewer comments/reactions than people who are verified. You get marginalized, unable to reap the full benefits of the platform, if you don't conform to a very particular outlook on what a name is (the official sequence of letters on your ID). To be clear, the problem isn't the verification process itself1. That process (and its associated benefits) may be in place to deal with bot traffic. I can sympathize with this, and I do want lower bot traffic—it makes platforms much more pleasant to use. Let us use our names The problem is that you have to show your legal name to everyone. There should be a process for being verified without it being your legal name on display. This process doesn't have to be scalable if the group that would utilize it is small—since surely they'd only forget about small populations2. It can be as simple as filing a help ticket and allowing a human to approve it based on some evidence. Is your name consistent across your public profiles? And you're a human being? Cool, verified. I believe that LinkedIn can, and should, do better. This feature as implemented is harming marginalized folks who are not able to get the same visibility when they cannot get verified. It reduces the exposure that marginalized creators can get. You should keep this in mind in the products you make, too. Don't require people to display their legal names. And before you even collect that data, think about what problem you're trying to solve. Do you need to collect legal names to solve that? (Probably not.) If so, do you need to store them after processing once? (Probably not.) And if so, do you need to display them publicly? (Probably not.) Names are so much more than what the government knows us by. Let us be our true selves and verify us with our true names. 1 It's not free of problems, though: I'd like to have a way to achieve the same result ("she's a human! she's generally the internet person she claims she is!") without showing my government identity documents to a third party. 2 Though, companies have been known to marginalize large groups of people. This is a rhetorical point that they are either harming a lot of people or they could solve the problem for a low cost.