There are managers. There are leaders. And then—there are mentors.
I have been lucky to know all three. But the mentors? They shaped me. They saw parts of me I was still learning to understand. They held the flashlight when I could not see the path. They became mirrors, sounding boards, quiet cheerleaders, and sometimes, necessary disruptors of my comfort zones.
In a world that often asks us to specialize, to stay in our lanes, I was encouraged to roam. From engineering to marketing, to sales, to business development, to foresight and innovation, my career has been a journey of curiosity and courage. And every pivot, every transformation, carried the imprint of a mentor who said, “Try it. You can.”
One mentor took a chance on me early on—handed me the keys to marketing and trusted me to lead. But what moved me most was not just their faith in my abilities. It was their willingness to tell me, years later, that if I ever outgrew the role or the company, I should leave. Even if it meant losing someone they valued.
That was a lesson in leadership I will never forget. Real mentorship is not about possession. It is not about loyalty to a brand or to a boss. It is about radical care. It is about believing in someone's growth even when it means letting them go. That kind of selflessness is rare—and unforgettable.
Over time, I came to understand that mentors are not always the ones above you. Sometimes, they sit beside you. Sometimes, they are your managers, and sometimes they are not. But they all share one thing in common: they help you find your ikigai—your reason for being.
Equally important, though less talked about, are sponsors. These are the leaders—often within your organization—who speak your name in rooms you have not yet entered. Who advocate for you when visibility matters most. And yes, I learned the hard way that when a sponsor leaves, the impact can feel like a sudden silence. The best response? Build those relationships early. Genuinely. Not just for career advancement, but from a place of curiosity, shared values, and authenticity.
As an immigrant woman navigating corporate spaces that were not built with people like me in mind, mentorship has been more than a professional strategy. It has been a lifeline. The cultural nuances, the unspoken rules, the times I was told I was “too quiet” or “too bold”—mentors helped me decode it all. They gave me language, tools, and most importantly, permission to take up space.
Some became like family—gentle yet firm. Others like close friends—non-judgmental and grounding. Through their guidance, I learned to lead others with the same generosity. And yes, even when it meant letting go of a high-performing team member who was ready to grow beyond my team, I remembered what was once gifted to me: selfless belief.
That is mentorship at its core. A bridge. A release. A steady hand that reminds you, “You are allowed to evolve.”
Today, I urge everyone—especially women, immigrants, and those navigating systems not built for them—to create their own personal board of mentors. Not just one. A circle. A constellation of voices who see your wholeness, not just your performance.
Because with the right mentors, your journey is not just onward and upward—it is deeply yours.
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