I still remember the first time I spoke up in a meeting and was met with silence. Not disagreement, just indifference. I had prepared for days. And yet, my voice barely made a ripple in the room. That silence lingered long after the meeting ended, and it taught me a painful lesson: leadership, especially for women of color in tech, is often defined not by brilliance, but by who gets heard.
Every career has its defining moments, the ones where we reflect on the leaders who shaped our journey. Some of those memories bring warmth: the manager who encouraged us, the mentor who saw our potential. But too many of us carry memories of those who let us down, who didn’t listen, ignored our contributions, or made us feel invisible in spaces we fought to enter.
These experiences linger because leadership is a personal matter. When it fails, it doesn’t just mean missed promotions or harsh reviews. It means broken trust, and that leaves a mark.
For years, I held out hope. That the leaders above me would change. That they’d finally see me. But hope, I’ve learned, is not a strategy. And waiting is a luxury many of us can’t afford.
Especially in tech.
According to CIO, as of 2024, women comprise just 35 percent of STEM workers and hold roughly the same proportion of technology roles overall. Meanwhile, McKinsey’s Women in the Workplace 2024 report reveals that women now hold nearly 29 percent of C‑suite roles in corporate America—up from 17 percent in 2015. Yet amid these gains, the pipeline to leadership remains fragile, particularly for women of color.
When the leaders around us lack empathy or vision, the ripple effects are real. Gallup research shows that 70 percent of the variance in team engagement is driven by managers, and poor leadership is a significant cause of burnout and attrition.
The hard truth? Not all leaders will step up. And many were never trained to lead well to begin with.
My turning point came when I realized that instead of wishing for better leadership, I could become it. This wasn’t an overnight revelation; it took years of unlearning and letting go of the belief that I needed someone else’s permission to lead with intention.
With every decision to lead with empathy, honesty, and courage, something started to shift, not just in me, but in the people around me. Because leadership isn’t about titles, it’s about showing up with purpose, especially when no one hands you the mic.
Here’s what I’d tell my younger self, and anyone else seeking to lead meaningfully:
- Lead with empathy. See your colleagues as people with stories, listen first, and understand always.
- Be courageously honest. Trust begins with truth; transparency fosters growth.
- Stay consistent. Trust isn’t built in flashbulb moments, but in the steady rhythm of follow-through.
- Lift others. The best leaders don’t hoard space; they create it, sponsor others, and amplify the voices of those who are less heard.
I ask myself now: Have I made room for someone who sticks out? Have I given voice to someone I once wished had seen me?
If you’ve ever felt unseen, unheard, or underestimated, you don’t have to wait to become the leader you need. You can start today. From any seat. In any room. With any title or none at all.
Because leadership, at its core, is a decision.
And the world needs more of us to make it.
