I’ve been thinking about that younger version of me, the one who didn’t have access, who was constantly figuring it out on the fly, who often felt invisible in rooms where the decisions were made.
When I walked into the venue for this panel discussion, I saw her again. Not in the mirror, but in the women filling the seats. Young founders, quiet observers, women clutching notebooks like lifelines. And I thought, you are the reason I show up.
What I didn’t post on Instagram was the mental conversation I had with myself before speaking. The reminder that while the stage looks glamorous, my job is not to “look” successful, but to tell the truth about what it costs, the nights you cry over payroll, the opportunities you lose because you refuse to compromise your values, the moments you wonder if you should just stop.
The conversation flowed, but there were also the pauses, the knowing glances between us as panelists when someone shared something raw and unfiltered. We weren’t swapping polite industry tips; we were laying down the kind of game that doesn’t make it to a conference brochure.
At one point, I caught myself thinking, this is exactly what I needed years ago, a room where people told me how to build something sustainable, not just beautiful. And in that moment, I realised I had quietly become the person I once needed. Not by chasing the title, but by surviving the process.
The photos from that day show the outfit, the confidence, the smiles. What they do not show is the resolve I walked away with, to keep turning around, reaching back, and pulling more women into the light.