The Model Was Never Made for Me

Why standard for leadership was built for someone who’s nothing like me

I was rejected from Georgia Southern University. Not waitlisted. Rejected. I can’t even articulate the reasoning.

But I didn’t settle with that decision. I appealed. And, they said yes. That acceptance didn’t just open a door to college — it set the foundation for everything I would have to fight for after it.

Including the right to remain myself.

When I arrived at Georgia Southern as a cadet, I ran into something I didn’t expect. Leadership around me had a very clear picture of what an officer was supposed to look and sound like. And they made it their business to move me in that direction.

Tone it down.

Soften your presence.

Fall in line with the model.

I listened. I never followed.

Because I understood something they didn’t — I had not fought my way into that program to immediately disappear. The appeal that got me through that door was an act of insisting I belonged. Changing who I was the moment I arrived would have made all of it meaningless.

The model they kept pointing me toward wasn’t built for someone like me. It wasn’t built for a young Black woman who leads with presence, who shows up at training because she wants to see her planning executed, who believes her soldiers should be able to walk into her office and say, “Hey, ma’am, you got a minute?”

Their model was never made for me. And I stopped apologizing for that a long time ago.

The Leadership Insight

Here’s what I’ve learned: assimilation is often disguised as professionalism. People will frame who you are as a liability — your voice too loud, your presence too commanding, your accessibility too informal — without ever pointing to a regulation that says so.

What they’re really saying is: you don’t fit the image.

But the image was never the standard. It was just what people got used to seeing.

Your character, your work ethic, your way of connecting — those don’t have to change when your title does. What changes is where your feet are placed. What changes is where your hands go in any given mission. The core of who you are? That’s not up for revision.

Soldiers need to see me. They need to see a Black woman who is also a mother, also a leader, also human — and still fully in command. Because if they don’t see it, they’ll believe it isn’t possible. And that belief will keep them exactly where they are.

Action To Take Now

Think about one space in your life — professional, personal, or both — where you’ve been quietly shrinking to fit a model that was never designed with you in mind.

Name it. Write it down. Then ask yourself: What would it look like to lead from who I actually am instead?

That’s where your legacy begins.

Closing Reflection

That rejection didn’t break me. The appeal that followed was one of the first bricks that built my true foundation. And both of them were preparation for the moment I’d have to choose between the model and myself.

I chose myself. Every time.

If you’re ready to stop fitting into someone else’s framework and start leading from your own, the Her LEGACY Strategy Session was built for that exact moment. Let’s build yours together.