**Visibility, Empowerment, and Authenticity: A Journey Beyond the Expected**
There’s a moment in life—often unexpected—when the need to be seen transcends ambition. For me, the drive to claim visibility as a woman wasn’t about attention; it was about survival, reclamation, and, ultimately, purpose. “Mr Les, I want to speak because I know what it’s like not to have a voice,” I told Les Brown, my mentor, and in that instant, my work came into focus. Visibility isn’t just exposure. It’s the bedrock from which empowerment and authenticity spring. And every time I have these conversations, I find new ways my story interlaces with those searching for their own unapologetic voice.
That’s why sitting with Joanne Lockwood—host of Inclusion Bites—felt not just natural but necessary. Joanne’s ability to hold bold, challenging conversations is unmatched; she’s the founder of SEE Change Happen, an advocate for nuanced inclusion, and someone who champions belonging from every angle, especially those least expected. She asks questions that insist on vulnerability and brings a relentless drive to disrupt the norms that keep us silent.
More than [INSERT_VIEW_COUNT] people have already watched our interview on YouTube, with many more joining in via Spotify and Apple Podcasts.
If this conversation sparks something for you—questions, pushback, or agreement—I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below. I read every one.
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**The Cost—and Power—of Losing Your Voice**
I’m not from Western Europe; Lithuania is where my story begins, in a world in rapid transition, straddling Soviet echoes and the promise of independence. Growing up, strong women led my family. I watched them be fearless yet, at times, suppressed. “Suppressed by domestic violence, by expectation that men have the authority, they are in control,” I reflected with Joanne, recognising how these lessons seeped beneath my skin.
But my journey took me elsewhere—across borders, into the UK as a thirteen-year-old immigrant who spoke no English, then onto Spain. Starting again in each country made me acutely aware of how it feels to be othered. In the UK, diversity confronted me head-on: a melting pot where I naturally gravitated towards fellow outsiders and misfits. In that chaos, the seeds of my own rebellion sprouted—against conformity, against expectations, and ultimately against silence.
Yet even that didn’t prepare me for the visceral reality of losing my voice—literally and metaphorically—after surviving a toxic relationship. Trauma is a thief, stealing not just words but identity and confidence. I hid behind a mask, functioned as best I could, but for two years, I could barely speak. “Seeing myself in the mirror, I couldn’t see who I was anymore,” I remember—fear, shame, and depression gnawing at every trace of self-worth. The only way forward was reconstruction—first of my own voice, then for other women like me.
Joanne recognised the pattern. “If you’re not speaking and being heard, then others are speaking for you and over the top of you…having that voice is so important, isn’t it?” she asked. I nodded inwardly. It’s more than important; it’s fundamental. Without your own voice, you’re not in the conversation—you’re the subject of it.
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**Authenticity: Peeling Away the Mask**
Authenticity isn’t a marketing slogan. It’s hard-earned, often through pain. For years, I did what so many women do—played roles, wore the clothes, pursued the beauty standards that supposedly signalled success and belonging. My early foray into modelling was uncovering; I enjoyed looking good, but the surface-level validation felt hollow.
Joanne pressed, as she does. “Society puts a burden on women to present, look in certain ways…striving to fit in with societal expectations, generally designed by the patriarchy. How can women be authentic and create their own value without having to subscribe?”
It’s a challenge. Real self-acceptance means letting go of external layers that do not define us. It’s not about rejecting beauty or femininity, but about choosing what serves you rather than what serves others. When I decided to change my hair—a grade zero, shaved right off—it was less an act of rebellion than liberation. “That hair does not define me anymore,” I remember thinking as I held my bare head and cried with relief. The masks—be they hair, makeup, status, or even past trauma—had no more hold.
The immediate aftermath was revealing: strangers responded differently; men’s attention waned or shifted; some assumed I must be battling illness. But to the people who matter, especially my partner, it made no difference. “You’re going to look amazing,” he said. That, to me, proved love and acceptance aren’t wrapped up in appearances. With shorter hair, I found the world responded to me—if anything—with more nervousness, more apprehension. It was a clear signal that authenticity, when fully realised, unsettles those invested in the old rules. You can choose to be a comfort to others or a catalyst for yourself. I chose the latter.
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**Intersectionality, Social Conditioning, and the Rebellion Within**
The struggle for empowerment isn’t one-dimensional. Historically, women—and women of colour, immigrant women, and queer women—have been asked to disappear into the margins. Lithuania taught me a version of this in the way men held the purse strings, in the subtler, insidious expectations about love, race, and belonging. My mother once asked me why I didn’t date Lithuanian men. I replied, “He can be blue, green, black, yellow—I don’t care as long as he treats me right,” disrupting her bias with the honesty of lived experience.
But some conditioning runs deeper. Joanne recounted how, in Kyiv, men would simply walk straight through women in public spaces—no deference, no accommodation—reminding me how normalised power imbalances are across many cultures. I’ve seen it, too: violence and domination masquerading as masculinity. “Eastern European men are more, in their own self-view, macho men…they try to exercise violence or overpowerment of women to assert their masculinity and their power,” I observed. To rebel against this is not just to reject individuals but entire cultural narratives that bind women to silence.
When I first arrived in the UK, my experience as an immigrant made me sensitive to intersectionality: not just gender, but race, class, and language. The feeling of being “other” is universal; the solution is solidarity, rebellion, and a refusal to conform. “We have to fight for ourselves, we have to stand up for ourselves,” was the mantra I built my life around, and it’s the foundation of everything I do at Women Thrive.
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**Global Challenges: The Shadow of Societal Rollback**
Empowerment cannot exist without vigilance. As Joanne and I discussed rising far-right politics—from America to France, Germany, and the echoes of war in Eastern Europe—we shared a fear for women and other minorities. “There’s a lot of worry, and I think women feel things more global compassionately,” I said. The rollback of diversity and inclusion, reproductive rights, protections for LGBTQ+ communities, and basic civil liberties isn’t a series of isolated incidents; it’s a rapidly escalating pattern. What happens in one country bleeds into another, especially when those pushing for disempowerment feel emboldened.
But now, more than ever, the lines have been drawn. “Up until now, the enemy was hiding in plain sight. Now they come out of the woodworks and we know exactly what we’re up against,” I told Joanne. There is no grey area. You support equity and inclusion—or you don’t. This clarity is painful, but it’s also galvanising. When our backs are against the wall, resistance flourishes. Today, advocacy is not a luxury; it is survival.
What makes this moment especially dangerous is the illusion that these changes are “someone else’s problem”—that they only affect people in Afghanistan, Ukraine, or the United States. They do not. The frog is boiling, I reminded the audience, and we must act before we become accustomed to having rights and dignity torn away. Empowerment is no longer personal; it is deeply political, and passivity equals complicity.
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**Reclaiming Our Space: The Existential Act of Speaking Out**
One theme cut through my conversation with Joanne: the existential need not only to use one’s voice, but to champion others in reclaiming theirs. In my work with Women Thrive Media—a platform, a publishing company, a movement—I strive to create safe spaces for women globally. The urgency of the moment has never been greater: more books are being pulled from libraries, more voices are being silenced, more insidious attempts are being made to eradicate difference. If we leave social media, stop speaking up, or hide in comfort, we become complicit in our own erasure.
Joanne shared a phrase that resonated deeply: “My existence is resistance.” Just by refusing to step out of uncomfortable spaces, just by showing up, we hold the line against the forces that want to erase us. “By being that grain of salt in the mollusk—let’s make some pearls,” she said. Resistance isn’t always about activism in the streets; sometimes, it’s about refusing to disappear. The world will have its conversation—with or without our presence. The choice is whether to be the subject or the speaker.
To anyone wrestling with fear, shame, or the pressure to conform, my advice is simple: Find communities that value free expression and difference. Host conversations, start podcasts, begin movements, speak up even—and especially—when it’s uncomfortable. “We're still very, very disempowered to speak our truth. Too afraid of judgement, too afraid to stick out,” I said on air. Let’s be the sore thumbs pointing at what’s wrong with today’s society. Inaction is complicity; resistance is our legacy.
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**Personal Empowerment Yields Collective Liberation**
The journey I’ve walked—through countries, cultures, trauma, recovery, and into global advocacy—has taught me one immutable lesson: empowerment is both personal and collective. Every layer of shame shed is a potential chain broken for another woman watching quietly from the sidelines. When I shaved my head, when I spoke my story, when I published thousands of voices through Women Thrive, I did so not for validation, but for liberation—mine, and yours.
What matters now is momentum. Each of us has a responsibility to ensure our voices puncture the silence. As a woman, as an advocate, as someone who survived the loss of voice and found it again, I know that authenticity is rarely convenient—but it’s always necessary.
As I close, I return to the insight that began this story: visibility is not a luxury, but a necessity. Empowerment is not the domain of those already holding the power, but of those willing to claim it for themselves and amplify it for others. Each unapologetic act—from refusing a beauty standard to challenging global injustice—ripples outward. Together, we can create safe spaces, communities, and platforms where every voice is both heard and celebrated.
There is always more that unites us than separates us.
If anything in my journey, my conversation with Joanne, or my work resonates, I invite you to join the movement—write, speak, connect, and never underestimate the power of your own unapologetic voice.
Let us be heard, together.