I’ve been sitting with this one for a while. Turning it over. Trying to decide if writing it would be seen as “too emotional” or “too much.” But the truth is, staying silent when something matters deeply is not who I am. And what I’m about to say isn’t just about me, it’s about a pattern that women in leadership know all too well.
When men are not allies, the fallout isn’t just personal – it’s systemic.
I’ve spent my career in boardrooms and community halls, on sports fields and radio studios, across disability, politics, and business. I have worked with some of the most incredible male allies, men who stand shoulder to shoulder with women, who listen and lead with integrity, who challenge bias not just in policy but in practice. I appreciate them.
But that’s not what this piece is about. This is about when ego takes the wheel. When the fear of strong women becomes louder than the vision we are meant to create together. When leadership becomes a performance instead of a purpose.
It starts subtly. A lie here. A twisted narrative there. An email taken out of context. A conversation reshaped to suit an agenda. Kindness, a leadership value I hold close, becomes weaponised. Manipulated to make me appear weak or naïve, rather than strong and strategic. Decisions get blocked, not because they are wrong, but because they didn’t originate from the right person’s mouth.
Suddenly, you’re not debating ideas. You’re defending your right to be in the room.
And the most frustrating part? These games don’t just harm women leaders. They harm the communities and organisations we are trying to serve. Progress stalls. Culture sours. People lose trust, in the system, in the process, in each other.
I know this happens to men, too. I know good male leaders who have been taken down by ego-driven toxicity. But I can only speak from the body I live in. From the stories that are whispered to me behind closed doors. From the questions I get late from family who say, “How are you putting up with that?”
Here’s how.
I remember why I started. I think about every young girl who is watching. I ground myself in vision, not vindication. I lead anyway. I amplify others. I stay kind, but I stay sharp. I take breaks when I need to. And I keep building systems that make it harder for manipulation to thrive and easier for truth to hold weight.
Allyship isn’t a hashtag or a lanyard or a seat at a diversity breakfast. It’s action. It’s discomfort. It’s stepping in when a woman is being undermined, not after she’s burnt out and broken.
To the men who do this well, thank you. We need you. And to those who don’t yet see the cost of your silence or ego, I hope this invites reflection. Not for my sake, but for the sake of the organisations, communities, and futures we are meant to be shaping together. Because when women lead, we don’t just bring skills to the table, we bring a vision for what’s possible. But vision needs support. It needs safety. It needs truth.
And I believe we can do better. Together!
