From the age of 20, I was a single mom, and my path seemed laid out for me: first survive, then succeed. I poured all my energy into a career, steadily climbing from analyst to manager to CEO. I built a persona around being the ‘tough chick’—the one who gets it done, no matter the cost. I leaned into what I thought were my greatest assets: an intense work ethic and a laser-sharp focus that was often perceived as abrasive and impatient. I was intelligent, and I was driven, and I believed the ends always justified the means.

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A mentor once gently told me, “Your IQ got you here, but your EQ is what will get you further. From this point on, it’s more about other people than it is about you.” The words registered, but the meaning didn't truly land.

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Not until I reached the summit. There I was, the CEO—the picture of 'success' I thought I was chasing. But with no next rung on the ladder, I was met with a profound emptiness. I had abdicated my definition of success to others, and when I finally arrived, I hit a wall. I started waking up every day feeling defeated, angry, and hollow. I didn't even recognize, or like, the person I had become.

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So I did the unthinkable. As a single mother of two, with no safety net or backup plan, I quit. I walked away from the title, the salary, and the hard-fought identity. And in that moment of pure, terrifying uncertainty, I felt the most profound peace I had ever known.

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That peace was followed by the harsh reality of hitting rock bottom. My health was failing from burnout, my relationships were strained, and I felt utterly lost without the climb. This time, there was no bounce, just a raw, vulnerable feeling of not knowing who I was anymore.

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My journey back started small, by turning inward. I focused on my health, my mindset, and my own education. Then, I took another terrifying step: I asked my circle of influence how they saw me. I was braced for criticism, but what I received was a reflection I barely recognized. They didn't just see the 'tough chick.' They saw a 'visionary,' an 'unparalleled connector,' a 'strategic thinker' who could build relationships based on trust. They saw a leader.

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This was the real turning point. I learned that my value wasn't just in my personal drive, but in how I could lift others up. That my true superpowers were in connecting people and ideas, and leading with others, not just in front of them. I learned that true leadership isn’t a title; it’s the gift you give by living as an example. For my daughters, and for myself, that is the only success—and the truest form of wealth—that truly counts.

Survival Story – Emily Woodman-Nance

 

My survival story began in a long-term care facility more than 2,000 miles away. My mother-in-law was there, and I struggled to get updates about her care. The staff were stretched thin, juggling constant phone calls and in-person requests from families, and I quickly realized my frustration wasn’t unique, it was the daily reality for families across the country. I felt helpless, but I also felt a spark: this wasn’t a problem that should be endured, it was one that could be solved.

 

Resilience for me was refusing to accept “that’s just how it is.” Families deserve peace of mind, and caregivers deserve tools that lighten their load instead of adding to it. That conviction became the fuel that carried me through the uncertainty of building something new.

Up until then, I had followed a steady career path, working with Big 4 consulting firms and Fortune 500 companies. My expertise in technology, project management, and operations had given me a safe and predictable trajectory. But as much as those roles sharpened my skills, they couldn’t satisfy my deeper purpose. I knew my next chapter had to be different.

 

Reinvention meant leaving the security of corporate life and taking the leap to build from scratch. I co-founded At Their Side, a health technology company providing a SaaS communication platform for long-term care. We bootstrapped, tested, pivoted, and built again. We partnered with facilities, listened to families, and integrated their feedback into every feature. Through real-time updates, centralized documentation, and family portals, we transformed what once felt like silence and overwhelm into transparency and trust.

 

It wasn’t always smooth. There were rejections, funding challenges, and moments when walking away might have been the easier choice. But resilience meant staying the course. Reinvention meant finding new ways forward when doors closed.

 

Today, rising means more than having a company with paying clients or industry recognition, though those are proud milestones. It means standing on stages as a speaker, sharing what I’ve learned about technology. It means serving my city as a commissioner, helping shape innovation policies that will outlast me. It means mentoring and supporting women in their leadership journeys, because I believe the path forward is not just about personal survival but about lifting others as we climb.

 

Survival, for me, is not just endurance. It’s transformation. It’s turning personal hardship into solutions that create impact beyond yourself. It’s the decision to look at a broken system and say, “I will build a bridge.”

 

My journey has taught me that resilience is the fuel, reinvention is the method, and rise is the result. That’s not just my survival story, it’s the way I choose to live and lead every day.

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Beyond Failure: Finding the Real Dream

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“How does it feel to be someone who pursued the dream and failed?”

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The cameras kept rolling. I inhaled, took a moment to steady myself, and leveled my eyes at the man who had asked the question.

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“I don’t think I’ve failed,” I answered calmly. “The job of an actor is storytelling, and I do that every day.”

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It wasn’t the question I expected. I had been elated to be hired as an on-camera expert for a PBS docuseries, and in the middle of a conversation about the flood of dreamers who come to Hollywood, that remark landed like a punch. The former beauty pageant contestant in me quickly rerouted the conversation with grace and composure, and we moved on.

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That clip never aired—but the question never left me.

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I realized the truth: trying, stumbling, pivoting, and persisting has been my real success story. By then I had already admitted to myself that acting wasn’t my deepest calling. I was in the middle of a career pivot, learning how to help women communicate their presence and resonate with wider audiences through personal style.

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Failure only wins if we accept defeat. I chose not to. I built a business from the ground up, weathered a global pandemic with a successful pivot, and have never been afraid to try again in a new direction. When something isn’t working, I ask myself what I’m truly aiming for—and then I find another way to achieve it.

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I’ve survived Hollywood for many years, long after some in my Southern family had placed bets on how quickly I’d return home. My survival formula has been simple: identify the goal, map the blueprint, and walk the path—again and again. That mindset has carried me through moving across the country, changing professions, and ultimately creating a career I love: telling stories through style.

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It’s the same survival method I use with my styling clients today. Together, we identify their true selves and design a way to express that story through clothing. Because when your style speaks for you, doors open—and that, I’ve learned, is its own kind of survival.

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Survival Story: Through Covid, the supply chain crisis, SVB crisis, venture and government funding crisis. Funding has been an issue in the space industry over the past 36 months, and prior to that we had COVID.

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How did we get through it? We kept our heads down and options open - and always had parallel strategies to pull from when the going got tough. 

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Lesson: Always have a plan B (C, D, E…!)

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Resilience, Reinvention, Rise

REINVENTION 2001 marked the beginning of my journey as a woman who made a conscience decision to live a life that placed people over profits. This was a total dichotomy from the student who never wanted to declare a major only because I didn’t want to be pigeonholed into a profession or career that limited my ability to achieve financial success. I always said that I just wanted to make a lot of money, and I did until one day I opened my paycheck and felt unfulfilled. The world wasn’t a better place because I made a lot of money. It was then that I realized that it wasn’t making money, it was making a difference that mattered most to me.

 

By 2003 I had fully transitioned from the financial and technology sector and immersed myself into nonprofit. I was leading a digital divide initiative that brought me to a place of reinvention, not because I was not already on the path, but more so because it was the defining moment that reminded me of why I must do THIS work. It was that fateful day that I arrived at a Section 8 housing development in Houston’s 4th Ward. I was filled with enthusiasm and proud that I had made the decision to award a technology grant to this community because for so long they had been socioeconomically neglected and only experienced life as second class citizens. Generational poverty existed there like a plague. But that day, things were going to change. My job was like Santa Claus. I appeared at your doorstep, raised my magic wand, and poof, the world for the for the people in that community changed with the gift of a beautiful, brand new, internet enabled technology lab, equipped with all the bells and whistles.

 

I was excited and hopeful about the opportunity that would soon be available to over 2,500 deserving residents who could now learn and leverage technology resources and programs for their benefit. In my mind, certainly this would remove the nihilistic threat that had plagued these families for generations.

 

RESILIENCE

My first meeting would be with the property management company to obtain their interest and buy in to accepting the terms of the grantor. This encounter is what forever changed my life. I walk into the Manager’s office. He appears to be in his early to mid 60s, extremely well dressed and manicured. His office is immaculate and kept, in direct contrast to the reception area, the property grounds and common areas. He welcomes me with southern charm, a polite smile, and a firm handshake. He asks me to take a seat and proceeds to place his alligator shoes on his desk, almost blocking my view. He begins the conversation by sharing the history of the development, the community, and ultimately the residents. He continued by saying, "We have three generations of families living here. We have grandmothers, mothers, and now their children. They don’t want better. They don’t want to change.”

 

The odor of his arrogance permeating the air had become unbearable. I gently interjected and said, “Are you saying that not one of the current 2,400 residents wants a better life for themselves and their children?” He sarcastically responded, “I can tell that you are new to this kind of work. I have been doing this work almost longer than you have been alive.”

 

“Yes Sir. I am.” At this point he removed his shoes from his desk, placed his feet on the floor, stood up and leaned in towards me and left me with the statement that would inspire and live with me forever. “Be careful young lady, or the people you are trying to change will change you.” Mindful of why I was in his office I responded, “I hope so. If I can break the cycle for just one child, one mother, or one family my work here will have been worthwhile.”

 

RISE

These types of encounters followed me around the country for the next 13 years as I worked with community-based organizations, HUD, and politicians to champion the cause of the digital divide establishing 26 technology labs in 16 metropolitan markets. I met some of the most amazing people in the world. They were not rich or famous. Still, they opened the doors to their homes and welcomed me as family. I am still in contact with some of the “children” who were in the program. Some of them are now parents and I am honored to now call them friends.

 

Since that time, I have been on a career path that allows me the opportunity to serve some of the amazing people in the world. I have been fortunate enough to only work with corporations and organizations that align with my values. When I see the smile that comes over the face of a man, woman, or child because they accomplished something that the world told them they couldn’t the joy that I feel is immeasurable because I feel in some small way that I may have played a tiny part in their achievement. That feeling is worth more than gold.

 

And yes. He was correct. The people that I tried to change did change me. They taught me that to earn respect, it must be granted and that all people need is to be treated with dignity to help them become the best version of themselves.

 

"Service is the rent we pay for living on this earth" Shirley Chisholm

 

Today I can say that I just want to make a difference, and I show up every day to make sure that my rent is paid.

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Jeanella Blair

At Your Service

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Darlene Crystal Survival Story 

 

My story is one of resilience, reinvention, and rising beyond every limitation placed on me.

 

After walking away from a 20-year relationship, I stood at rock bottom with two children depending on me and no clear path forward. It was terrifying — but also the moment I chose courage over comfort, faith over fear.

 

I turned to real estate not just to survive, but to transform. Every house I flipped became a symbol of my own rebirth — proof that what is broken can be rebuilt stronger, more beautiful, and more valuable than before.

 

That journey gave birth to GirlFlipper, a platform where I now empower women to rise from their own trials, reclaim their power, and create financial independence.

Link Tree - https://linktr.ee/girlflipper?fbclid=PAZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAafvWhaRRXh2zORyraaSRj6SHYmeq9jDTePLys2vTw-d8UGBAfq0wHjDF_QL_Q_aem_pS75qd9tv5TPGYuQuuPfIg

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"Adaptation and resilience are words that describe much more than just the space I like to invest in. Those who are familiar with my work as a climate tech VC know this is an area I am deeply passionate about. The Earth is warming and that means many of us are starting to feel the devastating impacts of this - us human beings as well as all other living creatures we share this beautiful pale, blue dot with.

When stressors become permanent or pressure is so high that we are forced to find another way, that is when we learn to adapt to the new, unknown, and uncomfortable until slowly but surely we emerge on the other side of it all - renewed and resilient. In my own personal life, I have faced personal and professional challenges and have had to learn to be efficient and resourceful at times when no help or guidance was provided. I have pivoted away from what many called the norm and the safe place into wild, uncharted territory - I left a successful Fortune 100 finance executive career spanning 16 years across companies such as American Airlines, PepsiCo, and Visa to start my own VC firm. Many quite literally called me crazy for doing that. My own mother and my husband couldn't really wrap their heads around it when I announced my decision.

 

I also left my home country of Peru over 20 years ago and left my family behind with just a suitcase and a couple of hundred dollars to pursue an education in America and that alone carries many more stories of adaptation and resilience - as all immigrant stories do. Throughout it all, I have learned to embrace change as it always presents the gift of opportunity - a chance to learn something new and to reinvent yourself. A chance to tell yourself: this is not all - there is much more to explore in yourself, others, and in life.

 

I know I am definitely grateful for the lessons my own survival story has taught me and continues to teach me."

https://www.linkedin.com/in/karen-sheffield

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For 60 years now, this year, the California Commission on the Status of Women and Girls has worked to eliminate inequities in state law, and practices, that impact California’s women and girls. I have had the pleasure of serving this Commission for the last seven years and currently serve as it’s Executive Director.  

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There were a lot of years, however, when I thought a life like this was well beyond my reach. I never even expected to live much past 30. When I came out as queer in the mid 90’s, it was to a violent reception, banked by extreme poverty and nothing that looked remotely like opportunity. I was housing insecure as a teenager, raised by an abusive alcoholic and a queer community that did the best it could for throwaway kids like me. 

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The life I built back then was beautiful – but living itself was hard. For every party, there was a lonely night, or a week spent on the edge of giving up. For every adventure, there was a fight for survival. For every rowdy art loft, there was a long scary walk home alone through a gauntlet of predators to an unheated apartment and a stack of unpaid bills. For every night of free drinks, there were long lines and the endless hustle to stay fed on someone else's dime. There were boxes of rejection letters for jobs that I was more than qualified to take if only I would change my hair or look less queer. There were a lot of funerals. But still, I somehow squeaked through. I went to college and graduate school, worked three jobs at a time, sleeping in shifts to take on unpaid internships at places like the Smithsonian and the Washington Post. 

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I had, along the way, built a community that cared enough to keep me safe, fed and alive when I couldn’t quite manage it on my own. Some of us got out, climbing ladders that started in holes underground before we could ever see the light or the lowest rungs others we were competing with started on. Some of us got lucky and left poverty behind and even get to complain now about our gray hair and our traitorous knees. We kept each other safe long enough to get old. 

I have seen incredible progress made in that time, for women, queer people, and the folks I still call family, but I recognize that these are unstable times, and that we have a lot of work in front of us. 

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Work that will require a new generation of powerful women leaders to help keep it on track and ensure that the rights that we fought to secure cannot be eroded.  

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When the Commission was first established in 1965, most of our Commissioners were men. Today, 6 decades later, the Commissioners are all powerhouse women leaders who represent a diverse cross section of our incredible state. 

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 That change happened because women showed up and made it happen. And we did it despite the obstacles and sometimes, in spite of ourselves.  

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My vision for the future is deeper than specific laws that need changing or economic structures I want to help revise. I want women to do for each other what queer community did for me as a kid – we must fight for each other. All the time. Even when we disagree or have different needs or backgrounds.  

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Allowing our path forward to be defined by who we exclude, rather than how we connect, means making a choice to leave some women out of our shared fight for a future for us all. In 250 years, that hasn’t worked once – and it has always caused more harm than good. It’s time for a new strategy. It’s time for a radically inclusive approach to progress.  

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I survived what life handed me and worked my way into a position where I could help to lead us in a better direction. Solidarity across difference is the only thing that has truly changed the world. Solidarity and action in support of people like me are why I will be celebrating my 20 year anniversary this year to a woman that I love, and why I can’t be fired for celebrating that fact publicly. It is why I have dedicated my career and my life to building opportunities for all women to thrive. Because I’ve seen it done. I know that big change is possible – when we do it together. https://www.linkedin.com/in/darcytotten/

What is Resilience? An Open Letter to Dreamers - By Monda Raquel Webb

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“If They Don’t Give You a Seat at the Table, Bring a Folding Chair” Shirley Chisolm

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“You dress poor,” my Korean friend told me one day at lunch without blinking. She then mused, again not blinking. “You’re so talented. I wonder how far you could go if you had money? Probably really far.” She brought me jewelry and a couple of handbags to help my “look.”

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“You’d make a fine actress if you didn’t have such a southern accent,” stated my college Theatre professor.

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“I can’t date you,” my German friend said. He had a huge crush on me. “I’d lose my inheritance.” He wrote me a poem on a piece of newspaper, read it to me and disappeared from my life.

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“It’s too bad you don’t have any models for success,” a white male co-worker told me once. “You’re so smart. I find that Black people aren’t given the tools it takes to be successful.” He also had a huge crush on me.

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“Do you have an extra bone in your ankle?” an unknowingly ignorant girl asked me during Basketball Camp in rural Pennsylvania. “Can I see your tail?”

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You would think with all the well-intended, or not so well-intended observations that I’d crawl into a ball, potato-bug style, and stay there. I will say, these comments/observations caused me to think about what they said. The words from my college professor impacted me so much I didn’t have the courage to make films for 20 years. For the white boys – I’m a Black female, it’s what it is. I can’t undo it, and I refused to be a victim based on their perceived notions of money, society and success. They confused their learning with their yearning, but that was their problem. As young as I was, I recognized that and refused to placate whatever churned on the inside. But I digress. I’ve always held fast to the belief that if you put your mind to something and worked hard for it, it was only a matter of time before it happened; that other peoples’ success occurred because it’s their path. Their imprint. Their divine purpose. Ultimately, what I do, where I end up, to the angels that help me along the way, is my divine purpose.

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“Those who say it can’t be done are usually interrupted by those doing it”. James Baldwin

For my Korean friend. There is something to be said about being poor in finances but rich in spirit. Undoubtedly, I was spirit-led to tell a story about the last known human zoo. I crowd-funded for a trip to a Costa Rican writing retreat to learn how to write a screenplay. I stopped paying my mortgage to save enough to fund the film. I figured somehow this little film that could, would take me around the world. The money path was untraditional, but on some level, walking away from my home and walking into my dream worked; for me. Ten years later, “Zoo (Volkerschau)” is still playing the film festival circuit. I traveled to Marbella, Spain and Bali, Indonesia, where “ Zoo” won “Best Script”, and “Best International Short Film” respectively. “Zoo” by the numbers: 32 festival acceptances, 7 awards, 3 nominees, 3 semi-finalists and 2 finalist awards.

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For my college Theatre professor. Since she made me feel as if I didn’t have a place behind the camera, I figured the impact I could make behind it. I decided I wanted to be a Director, a hard choice, since there are only 2% of Black women Directors in Hollywood to this day. However, as an independent filmmaker, the journey is arduous, but the autonomy is delicious.

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For the almost boyfriend who chose his inheritance over me; it’s ok. Hopefully he found happiness in life. I know I have, and that’s by dancing to the beat of my own drum.

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For the colleague who was so sad that I didn’t have models – what model? Good friends, Angels, those who care deeply, have helped me on a trajectory impossible to reach alone.

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For the girls at Basketball camp, I’m sorry they weren’t exposed to other races and culture growing up. But, from that weekend, I was recruited as a blue-chip athlete and provided a full athletic scholarship to the University of Rhode Island. That said, no student loans. Hopefully they had a chance to broaden their perspective by travel, any travel, outside of the state.

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“You have to go the way your blood beats. If you don’t live the only life you have, you won’t live some other life, you won’t live any life at all.” James Baldwin

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Dave Chapelle said, one of the most valuable lessons he’d learned was “In your life, in any given moment, the strongest dream in that moment, wins that moment.” Like Dave, I too, am a strong dreamer. I’m still dreaming. I won’t stop. I’ve grabbed them by the horns and won’t let go.

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How Do I Define Resilience?

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Resilience is the precursor to my dreams

Resilience is resisting the status quo

Resilience is practiced patience

Resilience is an impenetrable armor

Resilience is staying focused on the end game, eyes on the prize, feet crossing the finish line

Resilience is the cumulative gift from the Ancestors, whose sole purpose is to remind you who you are, whose you are, and where you came from

Resilience is the confidence to fail and fail again, because you realize that each fail propels you to a lasting victory

Resilience is having a pure sense of self that is soul ingrained.

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With love,

Monda

https://www.linkedin.com/in/mondamedia/

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