A deep, quiet spark for women in finance to question the discomfort and self-doubt this industry runs on, and to take back their career, and their life, on their own terms. It begins with a conversation.
Houyam Boudiaf · Founder
You're often the only woman at the table, and you read the temperature of it before a word is said.
Too bossy, too soft, too technical, too formal. The bar seems to move the moment you reach it.
You over-prepare, out-deliver, and still watch the credit drift toward someone louder.
You won't put your name forward until you meet every line of the description. He applied at thirty percent.
You've been so grateful for the chance that you forgot to account for your own talent.
And quietly, in the honest hours, you weigh whether the cost of staying is worth what it's taking.
None of this is a flaw in you. It's the room. And a room can be led.
The spark is rarely loud. It's a handful of convictions that, once they catch, quietly change how you move.
You've been scoring yourself against men who never ran the same race. The first thing we set down is that scorecard.
Who you report to will shape your career more than any role on paper. We learn to read that before you say yes.
Real sponsorship isn't handed out at a panel. It's built, deliberately, in the relationships that actually move things.
Mentoring the women behind you isn't a favour. It's how you grow, and how the room finally changes.
You can be grateful and still insist on what your work is worth. Both are allowed.
Some seasons are worth weathering; some rooms you should leave. We get honest about which is which, and plan for both.
Over eighteen years in global markets, much of it at Citi, I made deliberate and often unconventional choices. I took the role with the most to learn over the one with the most prestige, and I made every seat bigger than I found it, creating desks, launching products, opening new markets. Comfort was never the point. Growth was.
I was promoted less quickly than some. But I was promoted as myself. What I'd change isn't the pace. It's the times I made myself smaller so the room, men and women alike, would feel less threatened; the times I advocated for everyone but myself; the years I trusted my work to speak for me on pay and promotion. It doesn't.
RebeLead is the guidance I wish I'd had then, so you can build an authentic career without paying for the lessons twice. Steady, candid, and entirely yours. I keep the practice small on purpose.
I'm not finished either. Even now, I catch myself measuring my worth by how much I got done in a day. We are all a work in progress, and I would rather walk that beside you than pretend I'm past it.
There's no campaign, no funnel, no feed. Women arrive because another woman thought of them and made the introduction: a colleague two desks over, a mentor, a friend who simply understood. That's the only door, and it's the right one.
An unhurried, private conversation, off the record, to understand where you are, what's weighing on you, and whether working together is right. Nothing to apply for. No obligation. Just the first conversation, where the spark catches.
Your note has reached me, and only me. I read each one personally and reply within a few days. Speak soon.
