When My Voice Makes Them Uncomfortable: Being a Young Woman Leader

I have learned that being a young woman in leadership spaces does not simply mean taking a seat at the table. It means bringing a voice that many would rather silence.

From the moment I began to participate in youth representation, I noticed a very clear difference: when a young man speaks, his words are received as valid, sometimes even celebrated. When I speak, as a young woman, what I first encounter is doubt. Doubt about whether I know enough, whether I have the necessary experience, whether my words carry any real weight. That doubt becomes an invisible barrier that I must cross every single time I raise my voice.

It is not only about speaking louder—it is about speaking better, with more evidence, with more passion, with more proof that “I deserve to be here.” Because for us, young women, it often takes twice the effort just to be heard half as much. We must push harder to get even the smallest bit of support, to have someone open a door for us, to gain visibility for our work.

I have experienced situations where young men repeated the exact same point I had just made, and suddenly everyone nodded in agreement. It is no secret—this is living, breathing sexism, embedded in power dynamics and disguised as “normal.” And the hardest part is realizing that this pattern repeats itself everywhere: in politics, in schools, in grassroots organizations, in community spaces.

Leading in these contexts has been one of my greatest challenges. When I’ve had to lead groups made up mostly of men, I have faced mistrustful looks, resistance, and comments designed to minimize me. I have been questioned in ways that they are never questioned—from my age to my ability to “hold the group together.” Sometimes the rejection is direct, and other times it comes in the form of a heavy silence filled with indifference.

But every obstacle has made me stronger. I have learned that I don’t need permission to exist or to lead. I have learned that my voice makes some people uncomfortable because it breaks with centuries of exclusion, because it does not fit the mold they expect, because it brings truths they would rather not hear. And I have come to understand that making people uncomfortable can also be a form of transformation.

Today, I lead with the certainty that opening doors for other young women is far more important than any personal recognition. Because if one of us manages to keep her voice firm in spaces where we are meant to be invisible, then many more will follow.

It has not been easy, but I wouldn’t trade this struggle. Being a young woman leader means fighting not only for the causes we represent, but also for the very right to be heard. And I do not intend to stop be

ing uncomfortable.