Claim Your Voice

Woman in nature with outstretched arms

Last year, I participated in a three-day women’s event. A friend had attended earlier in the year and encouraged me to do the same. To sweeten the deal, she gifted me a complimentary pass. What would it hurt? If I didn’t like it, the only investment would be my time.

Generally, women’s events are not my cup of tea, though I value their purpose and impact. As an introvert, being in a room filled with high energy and a large group of women makes me uneasy. There is a lot to unpack in that statement, which I’ll explain as I go.

As expected, there were many women in attendance. There was laughter, movement, energy everywhere. Almost immediately, I felt overwhelmed. Not knowing anyone, my introvert tendencies surfaced quickly. I tried to find a quiet place, sitting by myself or near people who were also reserved.

One woman, however, walked right up and introduced herself. A self-proclaimed extrovert, she shared that she’s drawn to quieter people because they ground her. Over those three days, she became my safety net and I’m grateful to say we are still friends.

The purpose of the event was to learn how to build a spiritually led business. By the afternoon of day one, the room had shifted. The extroverts had softened; the introverts had settled in. The energy began to balance.

That day’s focus was on communicating in a way that allows you to be seen, heard, and respected. The facilitator invited volunteers to introduce themselves on stage, then coached them live on how to communicate more impactfully.

The first woman spoke with confidence and needed little feedback. Then the facilitator asked for another volunteer and without thinking, I raised my hand.

I walked on stage and delivered my well-rehearsed introduction. Candidly, I needed more coaching. I was told I was shrinking, that my body language closed me off. I was instructed to stand tall, raise and outstretch my arms, and look directly at the audience. It felt incredibly vulnerable. As I stood there, exposed and open, something inside me broke and I began to cry.

The facilitator asked the audience to mirror my posture and send me love. In an instant, 150 women stood before me with outstretched arms and warm smiles. The love in that room was palpable. I could only withstand the attention for a minute or so before turning my back.

Then I was asked to introduce myself again. To say I did better would be an understatement. In that moment, I wasn’t just practicing public speaking. I was learning how to take up space. I was reclaiming my voice.

Throughout those three days, I realized that my discomfort around groups of women wasn’t about them. I had long believed there was competition and judgment in those spaces. But what I discovered was that those were my interpretations, my beliefs, my internal noise. I had been shrinking out of fear of judgment. When I stood up and claimed my voice, I found something unexpected: women who genuinely wanted me to succeed. In my fear and vulnerability, they saw themselves.

March is Women’s History Month. Because of the women who stood up before, who took up space despite danger, judgment, and ridicule so many other women have the opportunity to stand strong today.

Claiming your voice does not require shouting from the rooftops. Sometimes it is quieter than that. Sometimes it is simply choosing not to shrink. Choosing to stand firm in your truth. Choosing to extend compassion to yourself. Choosing to remain open even when it feels vulnerable.

And sometimes, it is as simple and as powerful as raising your arms, looking the world in the eye, and allowing yourself to be seen.