Women to Women: What I Thought I Knew — and What I Found Instead

I arrived in New Orleans with a quiet fear I didn’t want to admit out loud. I didn’t think I knew a single woman attending. And if I’m honest, I carried the same hesitation many women do — the belief that women can be our own worst critics. We judge quickly. We compete silently. We talk ourselves out of introducing ourselves because we assume she won’t be approachable. I expected some version of that.

What I discovered at the NKBA Women to Women Conference could not have been farther from that misconception.

Before the conference even began, I had a moment that set the tone for everything that followed. Amongst a sea of faces I’d never seen before, I recognized someone. I was overwhelmed with excitement when I realized a woman I met at Lightovation in Dallas — someone from San Diego I connected with months ago — was attending as well. In a room full of strangers, that familiar face felt grounding. It reminded me that this industry is often smaller, kinder, and more interconnected than we think.

From the moment I walked into the first gathering, while waiting for the tour‑of‑home buses to arrive, I was pulled into a flurry of 100 women from across the U.S. and Canada — each one kind, welcoming, open‑hearted, and generous with their stories. It wasn’t the typical “work conference” I expected. It was something deeper, something rare, something I’m not sure I’ll ever experience again.

During the home tours and the cocktail reception that followed, the conversations shifted quickly from surface‑level introductions to the real challenges we face as women in this industry. We talked openly about difficult projects, how to navigate demanding clients, and the importance — and difficulty — of setting personal boundaries in a profession that often asks for more than we have to give.

Day two was where everything changed.

Most of us expected the usual seminars: how to be more organized, how to grow your team, how to be a magnetic leader. Instead, we were given something infinitely more meaningful.

The brilliance began with the panel introductions. Not one woman was introduced by her job title or credentials. Instead, they were introduced by who they are — a wife, a mother, a sister, a runner, someone of faith. Hearing them framed that way immediately shifted the energy in the room. Leadership wasn’t being presented as a résumé. It was being presented as humanity.

These women — wildly successful, deeply respected — spoke openly about struggles I thought were mine alone. The tension between work and home. The guilt of choosing career over family. The exhaustion of being the only woman in a room full of men. The emotional toll of trying to be everything to everyone.

For almost 30 years, I thought I lived on an island. Suddenly, that island expanded. It was as if all of our isolated deserts were being linked together into one shared landscape.

We weren’t colleagues in that room. We were each other’s pillars — of strength, of encouragement, of truth.

All these years I felt ashamed of how I brought my own children to the office because they were sick or school was closed and I had no other choice. I laughed to myself as I thought about them now, all grown up, and how they recently told me they appreciate everything I did for them growing up — and they seriously hope they never have to sort cabinet samples again.

The assigned seating at the main session and dinner was brilliant. It forced us to meet women we didn’t know — women we might never have approached on our own. And in those conversations, something beautiful happened: we believed in each other. Completely. Wholeheartedly. After less than 48 hours.

This conference wasn’t about professional development. It was about human development.

It was about community, mentorship, and collaboration — not as buzzwords, but as lived experience.

It was about women showing up for women.

And I will carry that with me for the rest of my career.