Lift As You Climb: Making Space for the Women Who Come Next

Long before I ever sat at a leadership table in a school, I stood under very different lights.

As a young professional musical theatre performer working in Australia and London, I spent years walking into audition rooms where, within seconds, you learned exactly what people saw when they looked at you. Your height. Your waist size. Your hair colour. Your “type.” Sometimes you barely even reached the end of the room before the assessment had already been made.

To be fair, casting is visual storytelling. As someone who directs productions myself, I understand the importance of creating the right image on stage. The right combination of performers helps tell the story. There is logic behind those decisions. But understanding that logic doesn’t make the experience of being reduced to a set of physical measurements any less hollow.

When, day after day and year after year, you feel as though what you offer as a thinker, collaborator, or creative mind is secondary to things you have little control over, it begins to chip away at something deeper. You realise how quickly people can be categorised, overlooked, or underestimated based on what they appear to be rather than what they might contribute.

Looking back now, I realise those years taught me something profound about perception, belonging, and value. Lessons that, somewhat unexpectedly, followed me into leadership. Although the stage and the staffroom look very different, the question beneath them can be remarkably similar: Who gets seen for their potential, and who gets quietly overlooked?

On International Women’s Day, we often talk about lifting women up. About opening doors, pulling out chairs at tables that were once closed, and making sure the ladder isn’t quietly pulled up behind us. It’s a beautiful sentiment. But if I’ve learned anything from my own journey in educational leadership, it’s that lifting woman in leadership isn’t just about grand speeches or hashtags. Mostly, I find, it’s about a quiet conversation in a staffroom, a cup of tea between classes, or someone simply saying, “You can do this.”

When I stepped into my very first leadership role, I was what you might generously call enthusiastic. What you might have more accurately called me was very green. I had the title, the responsibility, and absolutely no idea what I was doing most days. I was determined, hardworking, and deeply passionate, but I was also, if I’m honest, a bit of a lone wolf trying to figure it all out.

And then there was our Head of English. Kerry.

She didn’t have to take me under her wing. She wasn’t assigned as my mentor. There was no program, no formal structure, no checkbox that required her to invest in me. But she did anyway. She went out of her way to support me, not just as a colleague, but as a leader and a human being trying to find her footing. I know she also did it as a woman helping another young woman.

She shared wisdom freely. She asked thoughtful questions when I was wrestling with decisions. She gently reassured me when I felt like I was making it all up as I went along (which, for the record, most new leaders absolutely are). More than that, she treated me as if I belonged in leadership before I had quite convinced myself that I did. That kind of generosity leaves a mark.

Her mentorship and friendship became such an important part of my life that, years later, she stood beside my partner and me as the celebrant at our wedding. That’s the funny thing about the people who lift you up early in your career. Sometimes they end up standing beside you in the most important moments of your life as well.

As my career progressed and I stepped into larger and more complex leadership roles, the landscape changed. The responsibilities grew, the stakes grew, and at many times the loneliness of leadership grew too. In the majority of those spaces, I found myself to be one of very few female leaders in the room. And so I did what many women in leadership do: I went looking for connection.

I reached out to a female leader at another school, hoping to build a professional relationship. Someone to share ideas with, to bounce challenges off, to learn from. Initially, the emails were warm and encouraging. There was every sign that a mentorship might grow. In fact, she had agreed to mentor me. But somewhere along the way, life, as it often does, got busy. Emails slowed. Conversations stalled. And the connection never quite moved beyond those early exchanges. It was disappointing, yes. But it also reminded me of something important: the work of lifting one another up requires intentionality. Good intentions alone aren’t always enough.

Interestingly, when I look back across my career, many of the leaders who have most actively supported and championed me have in fact been men. They advocated for me, trusted me with responsibility, encouraged my growth, and opened doors I might not have taken considerably longer to open on my own. For that, I am deeply grateful. Support in leadership does not belong to one gender. Good leadership, the kind that sees potential, invests in people, and builds others up, transcends it.

And this brings me to something that still saddens me a little when I hear it, particularly from some of our young people, and occasionally from adults as well. There is sometimes a misconception that International Women’s Day is about men taking a back seat so women can take the lead. But that isn’t what this day is about at all.

It isn’t about one gender stepping aside in order for another to shine. It isn’t about replacing one form of imbalance with another. It is about equity. It is about recognising that when everyone is given the opportunity to contribute, lead, and thrive, we all benefit. One gender does not need to dim their light for another to shine brighter. Leadership is not a limited resource. There is room for all of us.

Because of my own journey, the moments of loneliness, the search for mentorship, and the profound impact of those who invested in me, I now try to be intentional about what I wished I had more of. When young women are around me now, whether they are stepping into leadership or simply finding their voice in a staffroom, I make the effort to be present. I try to listen. I try to make myself available. I try to help, even if it’s with the smallest things. Sometimes it is the smallest gestures that make someone feel seen.

I remember what it felt like to desperately want female mentorship in leadership. And so I try, in my own small way, to be that person when I can. Encouraging our young women to lean forward, to trust their instincts, to speak up, and to step into spaces where their voices matter is not about pushing anyone else aside.

It is about widening the circle so more people can stand within it… and perhaps the place where this matters most to me now is at home.

As the mother of young daughters, I think often about the world they will grow up into. Of course I will champion them. That is part of the job description of being their mum. I will cheer the loudest at their milestones, remind them of their strength when they doubt it, and encourage them to chase the things that light them up. However, I don’t want their journey to rely on me alone.

I hope they grow up in a world where others who have gone before them take the time to champion them too. Where teachers, mentors, leaders, and colleagues notice their potential and help guide them forward. Where women lift them, men support them, and leadership is something they step into knowing they belong.

I know firsthand the difference that just one person can make. I know the power of that circle because someone once widened it for me. So, perhaps the call for all of us this International Women’s Day is simple.

If you’re early in your leadership journey, be brave enough to reach out.
If you’re further along, be generous enough to reach back. Send the email. Make the time for the coffee. Ask the question. Share the lesson you learned the hard way.

Leadership can feel lonely. But it doesn’t have to be.

And somewhere, right now, there is a very green, very enthusiastic new leader standing at the edge of the room, wondering if they belong there at all. Sometimes all it takes is one person who sees beyond the surface and says the words that change everything: “You belong here.”

Happy International Women’s Day.