What Being the Only Woman in the Room Taught Me About Leadership

For much of my career, I have walked into meeting rooms where I was one of only a few women.

Sometimes I was the only woman.

You notice.

Early in my career, I noticed every single time.

I noticed who was sitting around the table. I noticed who spoke first. I noticed who seemed comfortable challenging an idea. I noticed who already knew one another. And I was always aware of myself.

I prepared carefully. I thought about what I wanted to say before I said it. I learned how the room worked.

There were times when I questioned whether I belonged. There were other times when I knew I belonged but wondered whether everyone else in the room believed I did.

Those are two different things.

For years, I thought succeeding in those spaces meant learning how to fit into them.

I learned when to speak. When to listen. How to disagree. How to hold my ground.

Some of those lessons came from strong leaders who trusted me and gave me opportunities. Others came from watching leadership I knew I never wanted to repeat.

Plenty came from getting things wrong myself.

Over time, something changed.

I stopped seeing my difference as something I needed to overcome.

I stopped believing my responsibility was to become more like everyone else sitting at the table.

My responsibility was to bring my experience, my perspective, my questions, and my voice into the room.

Being one of the few also taught me to pay attention differently.

I noticed who spoke and who stayed quiet.

I noticed whose ideas received attention and whose were quickly passed over.

I noticed who walked into the meeting already connected to people around the table and who seemed to be standing outside those relationships.

Because I knew what it felt like to question whether my own voice mattered, I became more aware of people who might be asking themselves the same question.

Eventually, the question I asked when I entered those rooms changed.

I spent less time asking:

Do I belong here?

And more time asking:

Who is missing?

That shift changed my leadership.

It changed who I mentor. Whose name I bring forward when an opportunity becomes available. Who I encourage to apply even when she is unsure she is ready. Who I introduce to someone. Who I invite into a conversation.

I began to understand something else too.

Having a seat at the table carries responsibility.

If you have access to a room someone else does not, do something with your access.

Pay attention to whose perspective is missing.

Bring another name into the conversation.

Make the introduction.

Extend the invitation.

Pull out the chair.

Earlier in my career, getting into the room sometimes felt like the accomplishment.

I see it differently now.

Getting into the room gives you an opportunity.

What you do once you are there says far more about your leadership.

Being one of the only women in the room taught me resilience. It taught me courage. It taught me to trust my experience and find my voice.

Over time, I learned that confidence rarely comes first. Courage does.

But perhaps the most important lesson came later.

Leadership is not always about making sure your voice is heard.

Sometimes leadership means noticing whose voice has not been heard yet.

After more than three decades, I still walk into rooms where women are underrepresented. I still notice.

But I no longer spend much time asking whether I have earned my place there.

I have.

Now I look around.

I listen.

I pay attention to who is missing.

I worked hard for my seat at the table. I am proud of that.

But earning my own seat was never the end of the work.

The responsibility now is making sure I am not the last woman who gets one.

Reflection

Think about the rooms, relationships, and opportunities you have access to because of the years you have invested in your leadership.

Whose name are you bringing into the room with you?