When you think of the word "authority," what is the first thought that comes up for you? 

For many high-performing women leaders I coach, "authority" is a loaded word. 

Here’s why that makes sense. We’ve spent years navigating structures where authority was questionable or its misuse eroded our trust. Conditioned to be self-effacing and humble, we often view traditional authority as brash or bombastic. 

What we call “executive presence” isn’t about how you matched your Hermès scarf to your burgundy blazer, how impressive you sound, or the impressive count of grams of protein you ingested in the morning. Executive presence is also about the frequency your body emits—one that other people feel in subtle but very real ways.

This is the real secret to stopping difficult people from hijacking your day: you regulate your field so you’re no longer unconsciously absorbing theirs.

Compassion isn’t about being “nice” — it’s about being real, present, and grounded in truth. In this post, I redefine compassion as a source of inner strength and leadership clarity, not passive agreeableness.

You’ll learn how fierce compassion helps you set boundaries without guilt, speak hard truths with care, and lead from integrity instead of burnout. Rooted in feminist coaching and neuroscience, this piece explores how self-compassion activates the body’s natural calm and creativity — transforming how you show up for yourself, your team, and your mission.

Do you ever feel "desensitized" to your accomplishments?

Like everyone who matters probably already knows, since they're CC'd on your Monday updates or sit in on your monthly strategy sessions.

So it feels redundant, maybe even cocky, to restate the boringly obvious magnitude and impact of your contributions (which, in your mind, substantiate why you should've been promoted last review cycle, and you feel frustrated that the promotion went to Disappointing Steve instead of you).

[Jamie]’d have me notice spaces on my body, and when I came out of it, she’d say, “What do you know?” And I’d just know. Every time. It’s like she bypasses the amygdala—my fight-or-flight center—and helps the rest of my brain take over. I slow down, find the solution, and then we talk strategy.

It’s not the kind of session people expect. It’s not “What should I do?” and the coach gives a plan. It’s more like, “Let’s get quiet so you can hear your own knowing.”

The result? The year’s not even over, and she already has the backing of her performance coach (the internal one at her company), her new boss, and her boss’s boss.

If getting promoted is like baking a cake, hers is already baked, iced, and ready to serve.

So what’s left? The cherry on top: a five-slide promotion deck that makes her promotion a done deal.

Yes, progress feels fragile right now. But fragile doesn’t mean doomed. Fragility can be strengthened with intention — and even transformed into what Nassim Taleb calls antifragility.

Leaders who are willing to choose courage, who can combine accountability with compassion, will be remembered as the ones who helped their organizations become more resilient, more human, and more sustainable in uncertain times.

You want to expand your career, maybe even pivot into something different and bigger — but the thought of networking events, office politics, or chasing superficial connections makes your skin crawl.

This playbook is for you: the ambitious but introverted professional who has valuable knowledge to share, wants to keep growing, and refuses to play the schmoozy, transactional game.

In the best of worlds, she could create abundance even without the billionaire. She could found a company, grow it, and guide it to a successful exit event that generates significant returns for herself and her shareholders.

So together, we crafted a negotiation script that anchored her starting salary above the stated range. We aimed for 4X her current pay.

Let’s be honest—coaching isn’t magic. But sometimes, the space to stop go-go-going and start listening to the wisdom of your deeper mind can unlock some seriously unexpected momentum.

That’s what happened with my client SJ.

You don’t need to play a zero-sum game in your career journey. 

You don’t need to hustle for external validation or tie your self-worth to a job title.

But you can choose to grow — to negotiate for better pay, to rise into leadership — not because you’re trying to prove your worth…

Women are gaslit in the boardroom the same way we're gaslit in the doctor's office. In both medicine and management, male norms — including male bodies, male behaviors, and male baselines — form the default standard. So what can you do?

A client recently transitioned into a custom-made-for-her leadership role—with executive sponsorship and the team support of her dreams. And now? 🥶 She's frozen. In her words -- "overwhelmed by everything [she] could be doing."

The day I found out I was underpaid from reading an industry newsletter with salary benchmarks, it dawned on me like a gut punch: 

I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO ADVOCATE FOR MYSELF.

If, as you go to engage the room, anxiety and doubt rise in your chest... It’s easy to mistake your uniqueness as something to be fixed or tucked away—like a stained shirt sleeve you’re embarrassed to be wearing.

When your mind floods with doubt, and you wonder if you’re too much—or not enough—here’s the truth you’ve temporarily lost sight of:

You’re allowed to feel both proud and petrified. Brave and unsure.

You don’t have to resolve that tension. You get to be real inside it. That’s one of the most honest, human things you can do.

My mom — a South Korean immigrant with ironclad grit who wishes nothing less than abundance and success for her children — would probably get mad at me for saying this: I delight in making less money, by design.

It’s not a failure of strategy or a lack of hard work. Choosing to leave money on the proverbial table is a deliberate, values-based choice.

My client, Kasvi, came into our session feeling frustrated, angry, and rejected.

Her boss had shut down a well-intentioned suggestion for improving team output—something Kasvi offered in good faith to support the team’s performance.

But instead of openness, she hit a wall: “That’s my problem to fix,” said the boss tersely. (Translation: “Stay off my turf.”)

I teach a concept called Itty Bitty Sh*tty Committee (not a new idea 💡 — I first heard it from Kara Snyder when she coached me about a decade ago, and I’ve run with it ever since).

Itty Bitty Sh*tty Committee, or IBSC, for short, is the voice of our inner critic.

On a cold February night in 2008, I ran away from the South Slope apartment I'd been sharing with my husband like my life depended on it. In a full-blown panic, I ran down 4th Avenue shrieking, "JUST GO AWAY!" to the man I'd shared a life with for the last three years.