My dad never spoke about what he did. We only heard the stories after he was gone — from people in our town who had been on the other side of his quiet kindness. I'm posting this because the 13 of this month was his third heavenly birthday. He was a teacher. A child welfare man. A family man. In his last years a ward councillor. He never built a business, never built a brand, never put his name on anything. And he built one of the clearest legacies I have ever watched. His life is the reason I teach what I teach. Legacy is not a business. For some women it is, and that's beautiful. For others it's a family, a community, a career held with purpose — or simply becoming the woman she was meant to be. All of it counts. So here's what I'd love from you today, in the comments: what did someone in your life build that nobody ever applauded? A parent, a grandmother, a neighbour. Tell the community about them. I know I would really like to read it. 🤍 #AWomanInProgress #BuildingALegacy

Ladies, I shared these three this morning and wanted to leave them here too, because this room is where they actually get lived out. You cannot pour from an empty cup. I learned that one the hard way. I put my business down for five years because I had run empty — and I was standing in front of women offering them something I didn't have myself. We pick up where we left off. You don't start over. You refine and build on what you've already built. Nothing you've done so far is wasted. Start intentionally. Not perfectly. It takes off so much pressure to perform and to meet everyone else's standards. And being intentional even in the tough moments is what pulls you through. That one's been tested this month more than I'd have chosen. 🤍 Which of the three is the one you needed today? Drop one word below — I'd love to know. (And tonight is the workshop — 18:30 to 20:00. Your seat is free in here.)

Ladies, this is tomorrow — Thursday 1 October, 18:30 to 20:00. Ninety minutes on the question nobody asked you on Heritage Day: what were you handed about being a woman? You leave with 25 words, in your own handwriting, that say who you are. Because you're in here, it's free. Fill in the form and tap "I'm an AWIP Member." 👉 https://heritageday-whereyoucomefrom.netlify.app Bring a pen and paper. That's the bit people forget. 🤍

Ladies, On Thursday 1 October, 18:30–20:00, I'm running a ninety-minute workshop called Where You Come From. Evening, so it's after work. It was meant to be Heritage Day, but something came up in my family and we had to move it. New date, same workshop. Here's the question we're sitting with: What were you handed about being a woman? What you were taught to be proud of. What you were taught not to talk about. What was carried in your house and never called by its name. Maybe it came from your mother. Your grandmother. An aunt who stepped in. A father raising you on his own. Or the silence where someone should have been — because that gets handed down too. You'll write three moments that made you, find the thread running through them, and leave with twenty-five words that say who you are. In your own handwriting. Because you're in here, it's free. Fill in the form, then tap "I'm an AWIP Member." Nothing to pay — I check the member list myself. 👉 https://heritageday-whereyoucomefrom.netlify.app Bring a pen and paper. That's the bit people forget. Start intentionally. Not perfectly. 🤍

He was talking with Brené Brown about being able to disagree with people you genuinely like and trust — without the relationship suddenly feeling unsafe. Here's why it hit me. When you start doing this work — when you get clear on who you are and where you're actually going — the people closest to you feel it first. And often, they push back. Not because they don't love you. Because you changed the shape of something they had gotten comfortable with. And this is where most of us go quiet. We soften it. We stop mentioning the course. We stop talking about the plan. We keep the peace by making ourselves smaller — and we tell ourselves that's being kind. It isn't kind. It's just quiet. A relationship that can't hold your growth was never being protected by your silence. The strong ones can take it. Let them. 👇 Who was the first person to push back when you started changing — and how did you handle it?