Why more women will lead—if they see what they’re missing

We keep having the same conversation. Panels about representation. Dinners about diversity. Internal initiatives that sound good in theory but land like a pat on the head. Everyone says they want more women in leadership. Fewer actually ask what women want out of leadership. Because here’s the truth no one wants to say out loud: a lot of high-potential women look at what leadership is currently offering and think—“That doesn’t look like a win.”

They’re not afraid. They’re unconvinced. That’s the problem. And it’s fixable—but not with another mentoring program or inspirational keynote. The fix starts with a completely different frame.

I’ve worked with hundreds of women founders, builders, and senior operators in Southeast Asia and Saudi Arabia. Many of them are more qualified, more adaptable, and more quietly competent than the men who outrank them. But they don’t push forward—not because they don’t believe they can, but because the value proposition hasn’t been made clear.

We don’t need more role models. We need better framing.

Most corporate initiatives aimed at advancing women assume a confidence gap. That women need to be convinced they’re capable, reminded they’re worthy, reassured they’re not alone. But confidence isn’t the blocker. Most women already lead—projects, teams, families, ecosystems. What they’re skeptical about is whether formal leadership roles are worth it.

Because when leadership is presented as sacrifice (“You’ll work twice as hard and face twice the scrutiny”), or moral duty (“You need to pave the way for others”), it feels more like a burden than a breakthrough. The incentives are off.

We’ve accidentally framed leadership as a lonely uphill climb—one where you’re expected to tolerate bias, be a token, and prove your value every step of the way. It’s no wonder ambitious women look at that and think, “I’ll grow on my own terms instead.” That’s not a confidence problem. That’s a strategy problem. And I’ve made this mistake myself.

A few years ago, I helped run a leadership accelerator for female founders in the Gulf. We had the best intentions. We offered funding prep, visibility support, coaching, the works. But the pitch was all wrong. We positioned the program around being “needed”—how women were underrepresented, how their voices mattered, how they should step up for the community. Every session opened with some variation of “the world needs more women like you.”

And while that’s true, it didn’t convert. We struggled with signups. The women we wanted most—those already running promising teams or sitting on investable IP—weren’t applying. But they were watching. Quietly. Closely.

One of them, a brilliant second-time founder with a background in logistics tech, messaged me after we’d closed applications. She said, “I didn’t apply because it felt like a spotlight, not leverage. I don’t want to be a story. I want to win.” That line broke me open.

We’d made leadership sound like a moral cause, not a competitive advantage. And the women we were trying to attract weren’t looking for a pep talk. They were looking for an edge. Something to multiply their power—not just justify their presence. So we changed the pitch.

The next cohort, we led with what they’d miss out on: insider funding deals, cross-border partnership intros, market expansion pathways. We framed leadership as access, not advocacy. Suddenly, the pipeline changed. High-performing women didn’t need to be told they were qualified. They needed to be shown what was already happening—behind closed doors, in rooms they weren’t in yet. Rooms where the real leverage lives. This insight didn’t just change our program. It changed how I mentor.

Because when I speak to female operators today, especially in markets like Singapore, Jakarta, Riyadh, or Dubai, I don’t tell them they’re underrepresented. I tell them the table is being set without them. I tell them the advisory boards are being formed, the future equity splits are being drawn, and the strategic hires are being tapped. And if they’re not in those rooms, they’re not in the equation.

Not because they aren’t smart enough. But because visibility and voice are still structurally brokered. The winning play isn’t asking for permission. It’s recognizing when the price of silence is higher than the cost of stepping up. This is what actually moves women to lead.

Too many leadership programs still sell the idea of “giving back.” But let’s be honest—most male leaders didn’t step up to be role models. They stepped up because there was something to gain.

Title. Equity. Access. Influence.

We shouldn’t be ashamed to pitch women on the same terms.

Tell them: leadership puts you in the loop where strategy gets shaped. It gives you a say in where capital flows. It lets you pull up others on your own terms—not wait for some committee to bless it.

Tell them: if you stay on the sidelines, the system stays the same. But if you step in with leverage, you don’t just change the system. You get to benefit from it.

That’s not selfish. That’s structural fluency.

In Malaysia and Saudi Arabia, where I now mentor women founders through accelerator-backed programs, I’ve seen firsthand what happens when the pitch shifts from “you’re needed” to “you’re missing out.” The energy changes.

Women who were hesitating now raise their hands. They’re not just participating—they’re negotiating. They want board seats. They want profit shares. They want ownership of the roadmap, not just implementation.

And that’s the point. Framing leadership as a favor you do for others will always attract a smaller, often exhausted, pool of women. Framing it as a seat of power you’re entitled to claim? That opens the floodgates. Because many of us aren’t waiting to be empowered. We’re waiting for the game to be revealed.

Let’s be blunt about something else. Women know the game is rigged. We’re not naïve. We’ve seen what happens when we speak too directly or show too much ambition. We’ve felt the double bind of being labeled too aggressive or too soft.

So we weigh the trade-offs more carefully than men do. Not because we’re slower—but because we’ve been trained to expect backlash, not benefit. If we want more women in leadership, we need to stop asking them to ignore that risk—and start showing them why the rewards outweigh it.

You don’t fight hesitation with encouragement. You fight it with clarity. Show them what being in power protects. Show them how to bring others in without burning out. Show them the real math behind leadership—not just the slogans. And watch what changes.

When people ask me now what I’d do differently in the early stages of my own career, I say this:

I would’ve stopped waiting for someone to say I was ready. I would’ve looked harder at the rooms I wasn’t in—and asked what was happening there without me. Because the biggest lesson I’ve learned is this: opportunity doesn’t always knock. Sometimes it whispers—through exclusions, through backchannels, through inside jokes. And if you don’t move, you miss it.

That’s the frame I use with every woman I mentor now. Don’t wait to be told you’re capable. Don’t wait to be chosen. Ask what you’re losing by playing small. Because you might think you’re being humble. But the game reads it as absent.

Leadership, at its best, is not charity. It’s not about fixing the system by sacrificing yourself to it. It’s about designing a new seat—and claiming it with clarity. And that starts with a better pitch. So the next time you want to get more women into leadership, don’t tell them they’re needed. Tell them they’re missing the real meeting. Tell them the rules are being written—and if they don’t show up, they don’t get a vote.

Tell them that staying out isn’t noble. It’s expensive. And then watch who walks in.