In my 40+ years, I’ve rarely questioned whether I could do a thing. If there’s a challenge, I meet it. If there’s a gap, I step into it. My life has been shaped by that instinct—to show up, to do the work, to keep moving forward.
And yet, I’ve often found myself quietly asking: When will I be the first choice?
It’s not about capability. I know I have the capacity—emotionally, intellectually, spiritually, and practically—to take on more, to lead, to innovate, to create impact. It’s not about desire either. My drive is there. My want is there. What weighs on me most is not doubt, but the persistent presence of limitations imposed by others—what we know as gatekeeping.
Gatekeeping doesn’t always come with a slammed door or a hard no. Sometimes, it’s a quiet withholding. A missed email. An opportunity that never gets extended. A seat at the table that always seems reserved for someone else. It’s being told to “wait your turn” by those who’ve already taken up too much space, for too long.
Even when I’ve forged my own paths—created my own roles, started my own ventures, spoken my truth into rooms not designed for me—there’s still this subtle, persistent barrier. Because at some point, someone else still holds the keys. Someone else still has to say “yes.”
The challenging thing is that, from the outside looking in, people might assume I’ve already had my turn–I’ve been the first choice. And in some ways, I can understand why. I’ve held roles that mattered, stepped into rooms that once felt far away, led organizations, sat at tables. But what many don’t see is the backstory—how often I’ve been the second choice.
More than once, I’ve interviewed for roles, not been selected, and then received the call when the first candidate didn’t work out. I’ve accepted those second chances with grace, with readiness, with a fire to prove I belonged—and I’ve done well. But real-talk, sometimes, it stings. Not because I wasn’t ultimately given the opportunity, but because I wasn’t the first thought. I wasn’t the first “yes.”
And at this point in my career, with all I’ve built, all I’ve led, and all I’ve overcome, I can’t help but wonder: What more do I need to do to be the first choice?
I’ve come to understand that this experience is not mine alone. It echoes in the lives of so many who live at the margins—Black folks, queer folks, immigrants, women, people who carry multiple identities that the world has long overlooked or underestimated. We are often told to be patient, to wait for change, to wait for our moment. But our moments are not gifts to be handed down. They are already ours. We just need space to claim them.
I want to live in a world where talent isn’t gatekept, where passion isn’t policed, and where leadership isn’t limited to the familiar. I want to be part of building spaces where people don’t have to ask for permission to show up as their full selves.
I’ve never lacked the capacity. I’ve never lacked the desire. And, I refuse to believe the lie that someone else’s validation is the only path forward.
So if you’re like me—capable, ready, driven—but waiting for someone to say now it’s your turn—let this be your reminder: you’re not waiting alone. And maybe, just maybe, we don’t have to wait at all.
We just have to keep showing up and pushing open the doors—together.
And through it all, no matter who chooses you, always—always—keep choosing yourself. It’s the most important choice you’ll ever make.
