Leading Without Apology

Discernment doesn’t trend. But it’s the foundation of honest leadership.

When approval becomes the reward for silence

We tell young people—especially girls—to be open. To share. To listen. To be willing to consider other points of view. On the surface, that’s not bad advice. But what happens when the call for openness becomes a performance? Or worse, a tool of manipulation?

In my work—from Girls Ignited and The Power of 100 Girls to global efforts with the UN and World Bank—I’ve seen how deeply this messaging shapes young people, especially girls. And not just in the U.S. Girls around the world are watching, often looking to the West for cues about what leadership, empowerment, and possibility look like. That’s why it matters so much that we model true strength—not the kind wrapped in constant likability, but the kind grounded in clarity, discernment, and self-trust.

I’ve watched the opposite happen online, especially among influencers, brand-builders, and those who make their living cultivating a following. There’s a certain script: radical positivity, emotional vulnerability at just the right moments, and a curated openness that rewards likability over truth. For girls and young women watching—and contorting themselves to fit that model—it can be quietly devastating.

Because here’s what doesn’t get said: not all perspectives deserve equal space. Not every disagreement is rooted in good faith. And not every boundary is a refusal to grow. Discernment is the word that holds it all—curiosity with boundaries, openness with wisdom.

But discernment doesn’t trend. And complexity doesn’t go viral.

Not sorry. And not performing.

So what spreads instead? The idea that disagreement is failure. That pushback is harshness. That true belonging means being endlessly understanding, even when it costs you your truth.

This is not empowerment. It’s erasure.

I believe we have a responsibility to the next generation—not to push them into more uncertainty or shame, but to help free them from the contradiction. The contradiction of being told they’re powerful, while being rewarded for silence. The contradiction of being told to lead, while being punished for setting limits. The contradiction of being praised for being open, when what’s really being asked is to be palatable.

We don’t need more palatable. We need more real.

And realness means sometimes saying no. Sometimes drawing a line. Sometimes refusing to perform connection when what’s needed is clarity.

That’s the kind of openness I want to model. Not the kind that makes everyone comfortable, but the kind that makes everyone honest.

This is why initiatives like Girls Ignited and The Power of 100 Girls exist. It’s why I wrote So You Want to Be a Youth Leader —not to hand young people a script, but to create space for them to lead as whole people. Not hollowed out by approval, but rooted in clarity, courage, and connection. Because real leadership doesn’t require you to shrink. It asks you to show up—with discernment, with voice, and without apology.

Accolades Fatigue: Balancing Gratitude and Staying True to Your Purpose

Accolades are an inspiring affirmation of hard work, dedication, and impact. But for some, frequent recognition can bring a sense of weight, a feeling I call “accolades fatigue.” While I’m deeply honored each time I’m recognized, there’s a complex balance between gratitude and the drive to stay true to my purpose: sparking others to step up and engage in meaningful change. I hope that sharing my journey might resonate with others who feel a similar tension.

With each accolade comes an assumption—sometimes unspoken—that being “accomplished” means consistently excelling, without the ups and downs that define any true path to success. People may assume that being recognized for achievements means there’s little room for missteps, yet it’s often through setbacks and failures that true growth happens. I’ve learned that these experiences are essential stepping stones, even if they aren’t always part of the public story.

For me, the weight of recognition isn’t about imposter syndrome, but rather about the expectations it sets and the assumptions that follow. It’s a reminder that achievements are one part of a larger, sometimes messier, journey. I’ve learned that acknowledging this truth is important—not just for myself but for others who may see themselves in my story.

Expressing gratitude without sounding insincere or overly humble is a challenge. I want to honor the recognition from those who have awarded me, and I’m genuinely thankful. At the same time, it’s important to me that accolades don’t overshadow the work itself. Sometimes, talking about “accolades fatigue” feels like walking a tightrope; I don’t want to come across as ungrateful or complaining. Yet acknowledging it helps me to remain genuine and balanced, and hopefully, it reassures others that they don’t need to measure themselves by accolades alone.

My true passion lies in seeing others take action, engage in their communities, and create their own impact. For me, this is the real reward—knowing that something I’ve done might inspire someone else to contribute in meaningful ways. Recognition can sometimes shift the focus, making it feel like the spotlight is more on me than on the causes I care about. By returning to what drives me, I keep the focus on impact, encouraging others to pursue their passions and be changemakers in their own right.

As an introvert and someone who is neurodivergent, public recognition comes with unique challenges. I often prefer to keep a low profile, though I push myself to speak out because I believe it can spark positive change. This internal tension—between wanting to stay behind the scenes and stepping forward to make a difference—is something I continually navigate. It’s not always comfortable, but I hope that by sharing this aspect, others might feel empowered to honor their own needs while still embracing their call to contribute.

Success isn’t a straight line. I’ve found that embracing the full journey—the achievements and the setbacks—brings a richness to my work that accolades alone can’t capture. By acknowledging both the highlights and the struggles, I’m able to stay grounded, focused on what truly matters, and open to learning. Each experience is a step toward deeper growth, and it’s this ongoing journey that I hope others will feel inspired to embrace as well.

For those who might feel fatigued by seeing others’ accolades, it’s often because the celebration overshadows the story behind it. Sharing the journey—failures, lessons, and purpose—brings out the humanity in these accomplishments, making them feel more relatable and less about self-promotion. I understand that constant praise can seem repetitive. My goal, however, isn’t to accumulate accolades but to spark impact. Each recognition is a step toward a greater purpose, not just a notch on the belt. These moments, though I’m often hesitant to share them, inspire my work and drive to help others. I invite you to envision the impact beyond the personal spotlight not only regarding me, but your own milestones.

Accolades are a gift, but they don’t define the purpose or passion behind the work. My hope is to balance gratitude with authenticity, keeping the focus on what truly matters: inspiring others to find and pursue their own passions, make a difference, and create positive change in their communities. For those who experience similar feelings, I encourage you to honor both the recognition and the journey. After all, it’s the quiet moments, the meaningful contributions, and the people we inspire along the way that ultimately define our impact.

On Sock Whisperers, Grace, Innovation, and Shortcuts

As a youth leader who happens to be female, I am constantly reminded that “this is our time”. Girls and women are on the cusp of creating new realities that can influence not only our lives, but that of so many others.

Not often, but sometimes I follow or read the posts of influencers to see what resonates. As with anything, I take what works and leave the rest behind. Recently, I have been watching the lives unfold of a handful of Hollywood celebrities. It is not typically where I’ve spent my time and energy because I don’t place them on pedestals as many others do. My parents have been involved in the industry in the past and given their exposure to so many leaders around the world, being starstruck was never a thing in our house.

The other day, there was a social media post, that frankly seemed to be part of a muted duel I’ve watched unfolding. It started off about socks and fault versus responsibility, then segued into how all of this can translate into where we might find ourselves if we take shortcuts. Like a rodeo clown, apparently, in the middle of a bullring wondering how we ended up there without our matching socks, and inferentially attributed to poor choices and shortcuts.

It is rare that I participate in these threads. Most of my comments are left in the posts of nonprofits, businesses, governments, NGOs, and initiatives related to youth leadership, gender equality, and science, technology, engineering, and math (STEM). Because of my focus on these issues, I am particularly interested in the subject of how to best prepare our future generations for a productive life of their choosing, and how actions taken now and, in the past, influence who we become. Also, as I get older and the prospect of a long-term romantic partnership becomes increasingly real, I continually examine myself and what I want to project into the world through my actions and via raising offspring should I have them.

The takeaway from that conversation, which compelled me to return to a blog I’d mostly neglected, was how we can extend some grace to ourselves and others by differentiating between shortcuts with negative connotations, and those that solve problems or express the value we place on time. It occurred to me that the world had built so much around how to keep matched socks, not to mention the numerous other “toilet seat up or down” type exchanges that flow from it. And how “socks” have diverted us from what we now understand as a well-intentioned but counterintuitive manifestation: unnatural biomechanics and poor posture. It also illustrated, at least for me, that innovation and shortcuts can be good or bad – not only in design but how we weaponize or even extrapolate from human and societal dynamics.

From the literal socks theme, for example, my dad wears them all the time, even with sandals. My mom, on the other hand, won’t wear them unless she’s in danger of frostbite. In some ways it’s an act of defiance for her and she will literally go sockless or wear sandals throughout the dead of winter. We joke about it with her but she stands her ground. The net effect of that quirky lifestyle is I am also almost always sockless but lean towards socklets.

We all lead busy lives and my dad mostly does the laundry. When we lose a sock to the washer or dryer monster, it’s not something we turn into a reflection about laziness, shirking responsibility, or assigning fault. In the position to buy more socks and pay the strays forward, we donate them to places that recycle the material to create new articles of clothing, or to organizations that work with the homeless or amputees. The new lessons are then poignant soul-checks and reminders about those who don’t have the privilege of creating drama or angst around sock laundry.

I don’t aspire to be a sock whisperer, especially since it involves building systems and expectations around situations that no longer serve us. Like being hard on ourselves for not successfully rallying others around a goal (take responsibility for your own socks!). Instead, I welcome the opportunity to keep things in perspective, understand there are other important issues and ways to pivot, and connect. This disposition was bred by my parents and impacts who I am, and am becoming. Whatever other lessons learned that don't work will be left behind as I take increased ownership of my life and who I choose to be.

The topics of socks and short cuts are also metaphors about life. This is what struck a chord. There are many who struggle or deal with circumstances unlike our own. Their path is theirs to walk, ultimately. If they are in our lives and we are looking to coexist and lift one another up, the question of how to empower and grow together begs another question of whether that should be accomplished by constantly trying to rearrange one another’s baggage so they'll conform to our idea of who they should be. As a teen I will presumably have a committed relationship and maybe even children someday. How do I bring my best self so we operate with compassion, love, and emotional intelligence? How do I use my wisdom and words to create synergy and understanding instead of harm, shame, or dysfunction?

This also touches on the subject of mental health, which is a societal crisis and one of the most common conditions. In my age group, one in five suffer from at least one mental health disorder. I have always been fascinated with how society has fallen short in this regard. Missing a limb or dealing with what some consider an obvious medical condition lends itself to different reactions and expectations than if I told someone I'm neurodivergent or suffered from what is often a silent or invisible illness. It’s 2023 and we still batter one another for symptoms not always in our control, even with medication. The authentic strength of empathy towards helping others to heal deep inner wounds is sometimes viewed as weakness (and please don't confuse any of this as saying one should subject themselves to abusive behavior or patterns. Healthy boundaries, enlightened self-interest, and self-love demand we sometimes opt out).

My parents are both forces of nature in different ways. My dad is ESFP, outgoing and affable. My mother is an introvert and grew up INTP, but for years is now the rarest of personality types for women, INTJ. Whenever my dad tries to broach certain subjects in public, whether online or in person, she reclaims her private space immediately and with finality. It’s kind of funny to witness, and I expect to hear from her just given what I’ve shared in this blog post. Being that Wal-Mart kid who had a public meltdown was not an option, and my first transgression became my last.

My point above relates to the dialogue I see on the internet, especially social media, where people are publicly shaming or ripping on one another with traditional thinking. This dynamic plays a role in why my generation isn’t dating as much or entering committed romantic relationships despite the tech innovation that connects us. As someone who straddles INTP/INTJ, that a future partner could take to social media to publicly engineer my compliance because they have a limited understanding of biophysiochemical issues – willfully or otherwise – is a very discouraging prospect. Despite the risks, I still strongly believe love is the answer.

Back to socks, and I’ll wrap this up. People didn’t want to keep washing their stinky feet and shoes, or they wanted to keep their feet warm. The short cut was a welcome innovation that created different problems. Now that we’re smarter and aware of new ways to create better solutions, I am reminded of the challenge we still face to raise our humanity to meet similar levels. I have hope that we'll do it.

When I wrote a brief comment in that social media thread the other day, an unknown person apparently looked me up then sent a private snark that read “Oh what do you know? You’re just a kid”. Someone else wrote to tell me they were blocking my organization's account so they couldn't see my posts anymore. None of it is my business and I didn't respond to any of it. People looking for a fight or projecting darkness in the face of good intention. One thing I’ll never pretend to be is omniscient, but what I do know is the world feels better when we exercise kindness wherever possible. Prove me wrong.