The Quiet Girl They Made Head Girl Promised Herself She'd Never Lead Again. She Lied.
Published: February 13, 2026 • 7 min read
Have you ever met a traumatized leader?
Well, this girl right here is one. Let me tell you a story.
The Quiet Girl They Noticed
Back in high school, I was the quiet, shy girl. I kept to myself most of the time. I never really talked much. And given that I attended an all-girls Catholic boarding school, this played really well for me. I was loved because I basically never spoke.
Eventually, not speaking much started to bother my English teachers. They wanted me to talk more. So they made me give a speech.
And when they saw that quiet girl stand on a stage and speak, they saw something. When they saw her give debates, they saw a persuasive leader. An influencer. Someone who could move a room.
So they made her the Head Girl.
In that process, they traumatized her.
What "Head Girl" Actually Meant
Do you know what it's like to be the Head Girl of a school where the rules make no sense? Where you have to enforce rules that you don't understand? And when you ask "Why do these rules exist?", you're told that obedience is better than sacrifice. You obey without asking.
Try telling that to a group of teenage girls.
I tried. I tried to be an example. And honestly, it was easy for me. I was naturally the quiet, conformist, rule-following type. Submissive. I genuinely followed the rules without much resistance.
But there were different personalities around me. There were situations where the rules needed to be broken. And in my school, breaking the rules for any reason was seen as horrible. No exceptions.
So I carried it all. Every time someone broke a rule, every time people didn't do the things the rules required them to do, I felt the weight of it. That pressure is what traumatized me.
I wasn't leading. I was policing rules I didn't believe in, under an organization that didn't give me the freedom to lead with empathy.
The Promise
After graduating, I made myself a promise. I would never put myself in a position like that again.
This meant avoiding leadership positions in clubs. Actually, it meant avoiding clubs as a whole. I genuinely do not say this to brag, but there are certain characteristics you just possess, characteristics that once people notice them in you, you naturally end up in the leadership position. I knew what those characteristics were.
And I hid them.
I avoided places where they would be visible. I played it small. On purpose.
The Rowing Team That Never Was
I remember Orientation Week at university like it was yesterday. There was a day where new students could visit different clubs as groups formed for registration. I ended up attempting to join the rowing team but didn't pass the physical fitness test.
After that, I had the opportunity to try out for other clubs. But I remember standing there, looking around at all the booths, and reminding myself: Be careful. Don't end up in a leadership position.
So I convinced myself that I wouldn't have time. I was already running my hair braiding business at the time, so it wasn't a hard story to sell to myself. Between classes and clients, where would I find the time for clubs?
But deep down? I know the real reason I walked away from those booths. I was protecting myself from being seen again.
Six Years of Playing Small
And so it went. For six years, from university through graduation through job experiences, I played small.
Then it came time to apply for jobs. I sent over 100 applications and got no response. Well, I got one video interview. It went nowhere. Sending applications had become a full-time job in itself, and it felt like a complete waste of time. I watched my friends, really smart people, doing the exact same thing and remaining unemployed. So why did I think it was going to be different for me? I wasn't special. The job market was bad for everyone.
So surely, I had to do something different.
So I took a break to build public proof of work. To refine my skills. I did this through writing. Through working on personal projects. Through creating this portfolio. Through my SDR Era.
And after doing all of that, I realized something: I had built a skill stack that does not correspond to any job description.
So I started a business.
Very risky move. I am very aware.
The Trap Door of Self-Sabotage
Here's the part I haven't told anyone.
I have had to resist the urge to self-sabotage. When I see things going well, when things start to play out, I catch myself wanting to ruin everything. Because somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice whispers: if this works out, you'll be back there. In a leadership position. In a similar position to the one that traumatized you.
When I see the momentum building, when people start to respond, when the vision starts to take shape, there's a version of me that wants to pull the plug before it gets too real. Before I end up visible again.
I have had to fight that version of me every single step.
The Reframe That Changed Everything
But now, now I remind myself of something important.
The leadership that traumatized me was leadership under someone else's rules. I was enforcing someone else's system. I had no say in whether the rules made sense. I had no power to lead with my own values.
This time is different.
I don't have to enforce rules from another person. I don't have to lead under another organization. I can lead under my own name. I can make the rules. And I can make it easy for people to follow them because the rules will actually make sense.
That realization didn't come overnight. It came slowly, through writing about my fears, through building in silence, through watching myself show up over and over even when I was terrified.
Two Versions of the People Who Know Me
The people who knew me from high school? When they see the videos, when they see me standing on stages, they recognize me. They recognize this girl. They've seen her before.
But the people who have known me for the past six years? This is completely new. This is a stranger they're seeing. They didn't know this version existed because she never let herself be visible. She was protecting herself. She was traumatized.
Full Circle at McGill
A few days ago, I stood on a stage at McGill Toastmasters and delivered a prepared speech about Audacism. Six minutes. From memory. No notes.
And something hit me while I was up there.
This was the same girl. The same girl they put on stages in high school because they saw something in her. The same girl who debated. The same girl they made Head Girl.
Except this time, she chose to be there. Nobody made her. Nobody forced her into a position she didn't want. She walked onto that stage because she wanted to share something she genuinely believes in.
That moment, standing there, delivering a speech about the philosophy I built from my own pain and my own growth, that was the full circle I didn't know I needed.
The Thing That Traumatized Me Might Just Save Me
Now, once again, I am standing on stages. I am building something. I am leading.
But for the first time, I'm doing it on my terms. Under my own name. With rules that I created. For a mission that I believe in.
The one thing that traumatized me, the one thing that led me to those positions where I carried weight I was never meant to carry alone, might just be the only thing that saves me.
The characteristics I hid for six years? They're the same characteristics that make me effective at winning speeches. At building an AI team. At envisioning the future. At teaching people what I've learned.
I didn't stop being a leader for six years. I just stopped letting anyone see it.
Well, you can see it now.
You're forgiven for not recognizing me sooner.
As always, thanks for reading!