I remember the moment clearly, not because anything extraordinary was said, but because of what wasn’t. I looked around the table during a leadership meeting that would shape a critical business decision, and it struck me: there was only one woman in the room. No announcement marked it. No one paused. The conversation moved on, comfortably unaware of the quiet reality sitting in plain sight.
She wasn’t quiet. She wasn’t hesitant. She was prepared, articulate, and decisive. Yet the weight she carried was different. Every point she made seemed to work harder. Every disagreement landed heavier. She wasn’t just representing her expertise, she was unconsciously representing possibility. I, on the other hand, had the privilege of being just another voice.
That moment stayed with me because it revealed something I had never been required to think about before: the pressure of visibility. For many women in leadership, being “the only” means excellence is expected, mistakes are magnified, and silence is rarely an option. It is leadership under a spotlight few choose, but many inherit.
On this International Women’s Day, that memory feels especially relevant. Not because it is rare, but because it is still far too common. Progress cannot be measured by a single seat at the table; it must be judged by how many chairs are added, how many voices are welcomed, and how intentionally leaders, especially men, use their influence to ensure no one carries the burden of representation alone.
The Climb: Understanding a Ladder Not Built for Everyone
Leadership is often described as meritocratic: work hard, deliver results, earn your place. It’s a reassuring narrative, particularly if the system was built with you in mind. I believed in that story for a long time, until I started paying closer attention to the women I worked alongside.
What I saw was not a lack of ambition or ability, but a different set of expectations. Competent women were expected to be confident, but not forceful. Collaborative, but never confrontational. Visible, but not “too tough.” Alongside performance, they constantly adjusted tone, timing, and perception as they climbed. There was a ladder, but its rungs were not evenly spaced.
What struck me most was the extra energy required simply to be taken seriously. While many of us could focus almost exclusively on outcomes, women often had to establish legitimacy first. That invisible labor rarely appears in performance reviews, yet it shapes careers in lasting ways.
Recognizing this didn’t diminish my own journey, but it did reframe my responsibility. If leadership is about fairness, then acknowledging that not everyone starts from the same place is not an admission of guilt; it is a call to lead differently. That realization marked a shift, from participating in the system to questioning the system itself.
The Shift: From Awareness to Responsibility
Recognizing imbalance without acting on it changes very little. For me, the real shift came as I moved into more senior leadership roles, when proximity to power became unavoidable, and so did the responsibility that came with it. Leadership stopped being about earning my seat at the table and started being about who else was, or wasn’t, being invited to sit there.
I began to notice patterns I had previously overlooked. Whose ideas were acknowledged and built upon. Whose voices were interrupted or deferred. Who was consistently offered stretch opportunities, and who quietly wasn’t. None of these moments were dramatic on their own, but together, they revealed a system that rewarded familiarity more than potential.
I also had to confront an uncomfortable truth: my silence, at times, had helped reinforce the status quo. Choosing not to intervene, not to question, not to advocate, was still a choice. And too often, it was a choice that worked against women. Awareness without action felt increasingly inadequate once I understood the weight of influence that came with my role.
On International Women’s Day, this reflection matters not as a symbolic pause, but as a reminder of responsibility. Progress does not come from good intentions alone. It requires leaders, particularly men, to move beyond passive support and into active allyship. Not as saviors or spokespeople, but as partners willing to challenge systems they may not have struggled against, yet undeniably benefit from.
Ultimately, this shift redefined how I measure leadership. Influence is no longer about title or authority. It is about what, and who, you help elevate, especially when it would be easier to stay silent.
Pulling Others Up: Learning from Leaders Who Changed the Room
Over time, I began to recognize that the leaders who leave a lasting mark are not just those who rise, but those who reach back as they do. History, and the present moment, offers powerful examples of what intentional leadership can look like.
When Indra Nooyi spoke about leadership, she emphasized empathy and longterm responsibility, not as soft traits, but as strategic strengths. Her success was measured not only by growth, but by how she expanded the definition of leadership at the top.
Similarly, Jacinda Ardern demonstrated that authority and compassion are not opposites. By leading with clarity, inclusion, and decisiveness, she normalized a leadership style that allowed others, especially women, to imagine themselves in positions of power without shedding their humanity.
These leaders didn’t just occupy rooms; they changed them. And they did so by understanding a simple truth: access only matters when it is shared.
That realization forced me to ask different questions of myself. Who gets visibility when success is discussed? Who is trusted with highstakes decisions? Who is spoken about rather than spoken with?
Pulling others up is rarely about grand gestures. It shows up in consistent, deliberate actions:
This is where allyship becomes tangible. Not in statements or celebrations, but in everyday decisions, often made when no one is watching, that determine who gets to climb next.
Breaking the Cycle of the “Only”
At some point, awareness and advocacy are no longer enough. The real challenge is breaking the cycle that keeps producing “onlys” in the first place. One woman in the room is often treated as progress, but representation without continuity is not transformation.
The cycle persists because it is subtle. It hides behind familiar explanations: limited pipelines, timing, readiness, culture fit. But when you look closely, the pattern is clear. The same profiles are promoted. The same leadership styles are rewarded. And women continue to enter rooms where they are visible, yet still isolated.
Breaking that cycle requires more than inviting women in, it requires redesigning the space itself. It means questioning how leadership potential is assessed, how confidence is interpreted, and why certain behaviors are rewarded while others are scrutinized. It means accepting that systems must change, rather than expecting individuals to adapt endlessly to them.
I now measure progress differently. Not by whether a woman is present at the table, but by whether she is one of several. Not through symbolic appointments, but through consistent pathways. Not by intention, but by outcomes.
Conclusion: Leaving the Ladder Down
Leadership is not defined by how high you climb, but by what you change once you get there. Titles come and go. Influence does not. And the most enduring measure of success is whether your presence made the path easier for those who followed.
Leaving the ladder down is not a symbolic act; it is a deliberate one. It shows up as 'who you sponsor,' not just 'mentor.' In whom you trust with visibility and risk. In whose voices you amplify when they are not in the room. These decisions rarely attract applause, but they quietly reshape futures.
International Women’s Day is not just a moment for reflection; it is a reminder of responsibility. Progress will not be sustained by a single day, a single appointment, or a single story. It will be sustained when leaders, especially men, commit to making inclusion part of how power is exercised, not how it is celebrated.
The goal is not to be remembered as someone who supported women in leadership, but as someone who helped make being “the only” obsolete. When more women rise, lead, and bring others with them, the room changes. And when the room changes, so does what leadership looks like.
That is the legacy worth building.
About the Author
Venkatesh boasts over 25 years of extensive experience working with leading global corporations such as Hexaware, Covansys, Wipro, Birla Soft, GE, Daimler, and Virtusa. He defines IT strategy, drives process transformations in service operations and delivery, and executes project and program management using Waterfall and Agile methodologies. Venkatesh has successfully led IT transformation journeys, focusing on analysis, optimization, and streamlining of IT operating models, with a proven track record of managing and implementing digital solutions across the US, UK, Germany, and Singapore. His dynamic leadership style enables him to establish strong relationships with internal and external stakeholders, consistently delivering impactful results. On a personal note, Venkatesh is married to Sujatha, who is pursuing her PhD in Psychology. They have two children: a daughter and a son. He enjoys playing badminton and listening to music in his free time, maintaining a well-rounded work-life balance.