There’s a quiet strength in leading as a woman, especially when no one expects you to lead. I learned that early in life, growing up in Albania during a time when women’s voices were meant to be soft, agreeable, and above all, silent in leadership spaces. But my mother, a schoolteacher with the kind of dignity that doesn’t demand attention but commands respect, showed me what leadership looked like: integrity, resilience, and grace in action.

When I immigrated to the United States in 2000 with two suitcases and a head full of dreams, I didn’t yet know how those early lessons would become the backbone of my career. I didn’t know that years later, I would be navigating boardrooms, budget proposals, and policy decisions—not just as a woman, but as a single mother, an immigrant, and a leader in local government.

And let me tell you, leading while female is a full-body, full-heart experience.

There was a moment early in my public sector career—one I’ll never forget—when I walked into a high-level budget meeting. I was the only woman. The only immigrant. The only single mother. I had stayed up the night before reviewing line items with a baby monitor in one hand and a calculator in the other. I wore a crisp blazer, but inside, I carried the weight of being “the only” in so many ways.

At that table, I was questioned more than once about my credentials, my decisions, even my tone. But what they didn’t realize was that I had come prepared with more than numbers. I came with lived experience—of navigating complex systems, of translating between languages and cultures, of making something out of nothing for the sake of my child and my community.

What I’ve learned is this: our leadership doesn’t have to look like theirs to be powerful.

As women in local government, we lead with intuition, empathy, and a deep understanding of how policy lands in real life. We know what it means to stretch a dollar. We know how to show up even when we’re tired, even when we’re overlooked. We know how to build bridges—not because it’s trendy, but because we’ve lived on both sides of them.

Being a mother, especially a single mother, didn’t make me less of a professional. It made me more intentional. My time became sacred, my purpose more focused. I stopped chasing titles and started building impact. I didn’t just want a seat at the table; I wanted to reshape the table entirely.

To every woman reading this who’s ever felt unseen, underestimated, or unheard: you belong here. You don’t need to ask for permission to lead. Your story is your strategy. Your challenges are your training ground. And your presence—fully, boldly, unapologetically female—is your power.

Today, as I mentor young women and speak in rooms that I once only dreamed of entering, I carry with me the voices of those who paved the way, as well as the responsibility to widen the path for those who follow. Because leadership isn’t about being the loudest voice in the room. It’s about being the most authentic one.

And when we lead from that place of truth, resilience, and heart, we don’t just lead while female. We lead while whole.

DR. ELDA SINANI, PhD, is the director of the office of policy and budget management for Stamford, Connecticut, USA. She also teaches graduate courses at Trinity College in budget management, leadership development, and public policy.