Project 180 — I Built a Place Where Women Belong

Project 180 — I Built a Place Where Women Belong

On leadership, unexpected resistance, and the quiet power of protecting what matters

Some of the most important lessons in leadership arrive on the days when we least feel like a leader.

Today, I came home from a meeting carrying a feeling I didn't quite know what to do with.

It was supposed to be an ordinary meeting of the Ladies of Saugeen Shores Women’s Institute. We were there to discuss fundraising, Rose events, speakers, and the possibilities ahead of us as a new branch.

I was excited. We had ideas. We had plans. We had women who wanted to participate, contribute, and help build something meaningful in our community.

And then the atmosphere changed.

I felt criticized. My ideas were met with objections. Even our invited speaker became a point of contention. I had hoped for guidance from someone representing the district, particularly because we are a new branch and still learning the organization’s processes.

Instead, I left feeling exhausted, hurt, and protective of the women who had been sitting around that table with me.

What hurt wasn't simply that someone disagreed with me.

It was the feeling that the enthusiasm we had brought into the room had somehow become something we needed to defend.

And I began to wonder why.

The thing I didn't see at first

Our branch has been growing.

We have attracted women who want to participate, women who bring ideas, women who are looking for friendship, community, learning, and a place where they can feel that they matter.

We have been creating activities, exploring speakers, planning events, and finding ways to bring people together. Women have been responding to that energy. They feel welcomed. They feel heard. They feel that they belong.

For a new branch, that is something to celebrate.

We are not simply filling chairs. We are creating an experience.

I think sometimes organizations become so accustomed to their structures and routines that they forget what it feels like to encounter something new. A new branch arrives with fresh ideas, fresh enthusiasm, and a different kind of momentum.

I don't know what today's experience meant from the other person's perspective. I cannot know her intentions, and I don't need to invent an explanation.

But I did begin to recognize something about my own work.

I have been building the kind of place I would want a woman to walk into.

A place where she doesn't feel she has to prove that she belongs.

A place where her ideas can be heard before they are evaluated.

A place where she can disagree without being diminished.

A place where participation feels joyful rather than obligatory.

Perhaps that is why today's meeting affected me so deeply. The atmosphere I experienced felt so different from the atmosphere I have been trying to create.

I am learning the difference between guidance and discouragement

I am new to this particular role. I do not know everything about the Women’s Institute, and I don't need to pretend that I do.

I welcome guidance. I want to understand the policies. I want to do things properly. If an idea needs to be revised, I am willing to revise it. If there are rules we need to follow, I want to know them.

But I am also learning that being teachable does not mean surrendering my judgment.

I can ask questions.

I can verify a policy.

I can request clarification.

I can listen to someone else's perspective without automatically accepting every criticism as truth.

And I can expect conversations to be respectful.

There is a difference between someone helping me understand how to do something correctly and someone leaving me feeling that the very act of trying is a problem.

I don't need to turn every disagreement into a personal battle. But I don't need to ignore how an interaction affects me, either.

Both discernment and compassion have a place in leadership.

The women around the table

One of the things that stayed with me was knowing that the experience had affected other members, too.

They shared their own discomfort afterward. Some wondered whether the representative might be going through a difficult time.

Perhaps she is.

Life is complicated. People carry things we cannot see. I can leave room for that possibility without pretending to know what is happening in someone else's life.

And I can have compassion without making myself responsible for someone else's emotions.

That distinction is becoming increasingly important to me.

For years, I have been learning what it means to care without carrying, to help without rescuing, and to remain open without abandoning myself.

I do not have to determine why someone behaved a certain way before deciding what kind of behaviour I will accept in my own working relationships.

I can wish someone well and still establish boundaries.

I can understand that a person might be struggling and still expect a respectful conversation.

I can be kind without making myself endlessly available to situations that leave me depleted.

Compassion does not require self-abandonment.

I will not make a permanent decision from a temporary feeling

For a moment, I felt that I could no longer work with these people.

I wanted distance. I wanted to protect my members. I wanted to make sense of what had happened and understand why something that should have been productive had felt so painful.

But then I recognized something.

I don't have to decide anything today.

I don't have to resign.

I don't have to confront anyone tonight.

I don't have to write an explanation, defend every idea, or figure out what another person was thinking.

I can let the experience breathe.

I can give myself a day or two. I can return to my ordinary life. I can allow the emotional charge to settle before deciding whether anything needs to be done.

This, too, is leadership.

Not every uncomfortable experience requires an immediate response. Sometimes the wisest decision is to wait until I can distinguish what needs my attention from what simply needs time to pass.

I am allowed to pause without feeling powerless.

I am allowed to move forward without having every answer.

I will be more intentional about who I invite in

I want my branch to remain welcoming. I do not want one difficult interaction to turn me into a suspicious or guarded person.

But welcoming everyone does not mean giving everyone the same access to my time, trust, or leadership.

I can observe how people treat others.

I can notice whether they contribute constructively, respect different perspectives, and help create an environment in which people feel comfortable participating.

I can be thoughtful about whom I invite to speak, collaborate, advise, and help shape our activities.

And I can remain open to being surprised by people, because one difficult day does not tell me everything about a person.

This is not about building walls.

It is about becoming more discerning about the gates.

I have used this image before in my life: I am the gatekeeper, not the wall.

I can open the gate to new friendships, new ideas, and meaningful opportunities. I can also decide when to pause, when to ask questions, and when a boundary is necessary.

The gate is not there to keep the world away.

It is there to allow me to choose how I engage with it.

What I really want to build

I am proud that women are coming to our branch. I am proud that they are bringing their ideas, sharing their enthusiasm, and finding connection.

But I don't want membership numbers to become a competition. I don't want our identity to depend on being bigger than another branch or proving that our approach is better.

I want something more meaningful.

I want a woman to come to a meeting and feel that she can contribute.

I want her to discover that her voice matters.

I want her to meet someone who becomes a friend.

I want her to leave with something valuable: a new idea, a good conversation, a moment of laughter, a sense of purpose, or simply the feeling that she spent time somewhere she was welcome.

I want us to create opportunities for women to participate in community life with joy.

That is the culture I want to protect.

And I am beginning to understand that protecting it does not mean preventing every uncomfortable moment. It means deciding how we respond when those moments happen, what standards we maintain, and what kind of environment we continue to cultivate.

I can learn the rules without losing my creativity.

I can respect leadership without giving up my own judgment.

I can receive criticism without allowing it to define me.

I can lead without carrying everyone.

The quiet shift

Tonight, I am choosing not to turn this experience into a battle.

I am choosing to let it breathe.

I will continue with my life. I will care for my family, return to my creative work, and make room for the things that bring me joy. I will let myself rest without feeling that I must resolve every difficult interaction before I can move on.

In a day or two, I can look at the situation again.

If something needs clarification, I will clarify it. If a conversation is necessary, I will have it when I am ready. If a boundary needs to be established, I will establish it thoughtfully.

But I will not abandon something meaningful because one meeting was painful.

And I will not abandon myself in the effort to keep everything running smoothly.

This is the part of my life where I am learning that peace is not the absence of difficult people or difficult experiences.

Peace is the ability to encounter them without allowing them to take over the whole of my life.

I can be disappointed and still be grateful.

I can be hurt and still be kind.

I can be a leader and still be a woman who needs a quiet evening, a deep breath, and permission to stop thinking about work.

I can move forward without deciding everything today.

And I can trust that the woman who returns to this situation in a few days will see it with a little more distance, a little more clarity, and perhaps a little more tenderness toward herself.

I am not here to prove that I belong at the table. I am here to help create a table where women know they belong.

That is the work.

That is the vision.

And I am allowed to protect it without losing myself in the process.

Project 180 reflection

What I am releasing: The need to resolve every uncomfortable situation immediately, to understand everyone's motives, or to prove that my intentions are good.

What I am keeping: My enthusiasm, my creativity, my commitment to community, and my belief that women deserve spaces where they feel heard and valued.

What I am practicing: Compassion without carrying. Leadership without over-responsibility. Openness with discernment. Boundaries without bitterness.

My reminder: I am the gatekeeper, not the wall.

I can let this breathe.

I can return to myself.

I can continue building something beautiful.