Unconscious bias can mean a lot of things. For me, it means being constantly reminded that I do not belong, reminded by people I know and strangers who feel entitled to try to fix me, solve me, explain the world to me or do whatever else they feel they have the right to do, often under the guise of kindness.

The sound of my grandchildren laughing fills my heart with love. It’s pure, carefree, and full of life; a melody of joy that I cherish deeply. Their giggles echo through my home, a reminder of the innocence and happiness every child deserves. But as I celebrate their laughter, I can’t ignore a painful reality: for many children around the world, laughter is not a given

You’re in a powerful yet tricky phase. Your expertise is solid, you’re succeeding as a coach, but you don’t feel like you’re fully showing up the way you want to. You want to command space again, feel seen, and break out of the rut that’s making you feel invisible.

A compass provides clarity when the way forward isn’t obvious. In careers and workplaces, people often feel lost—not because they lack talent but because systemic barriers make the journey unclear.

For individuals, success is not just about moving forward but doing so with intention. For organizations, diversity efforts should go beyond ticking boxes; they should strategically harness diverse perspectives to drive growth.

A compass doesn’t dictate a single route—it helps you adjust course when necessary. It ensures you don’t ride a dead horse but recognize when it’s time for change.

When I grew up in rural South Africa, young parents—both men and women—were noticeably absent. I was fortunate; my parents were teachers, so I had them at home. But for many children, it was their grandmothers who raised them, filling the void left by apartheid’s cruel policies.

Sometimes, freedom comes in unexpected forms. For me, it was two wobbly wheels, a lot of determination, and the refusal to stay in one place.

When people ask me why I became a Diversity and Inclusion (D&I) Executive Coach, I tell them this isn’t just a career—it’s personal.