From being a young district officer in Nepal to taking on community leadership in the United States, my journey has taught me something I did not fully understand when I began my career: women do not lack the ability to lead. Too often, we are simply asked to prove it.
When I look back, I realise I never consciously set out to prove that a woman could lead.
I simply wanted to do my work well.
Yet at different points in my career, I found myself having to demonstrate that I could handle responsibility, make decisions, lead people and have a voice at the table.
It started when I was very young.
During the final year of my bachelor’s degree, I began working as a District Program Officer with ECARDS-Nepal under the Multi-Stakeholder Forestry Program. I was young and suddenly responsible for working with communities and managing a team of almost 20 people across field and office settings.
It was a lot of responsibility for someone just beginning her career.
And I knew people were watching.
Would this young woman really be able to manage the work? Would the community listen to her? Could she make the right decisions?
I understood the hesitation, so I did not try to force anyone to accept me as a leader.
I worked.
I listened to the community. I learned from the people around me. I made mistakes and learned from them. When things did not go as planned, I took responsibility.
Slowly, people began to trust me.
That experience taught me one of the most important lessons of my career: trust takes time, particularly when people are not accustomed to seeing someone like you in a particular role.
I remain grateful for those early years. They taught me how to work with people, manage a team, solve problems and, perhaps most importantly, understand what leadership looks like on the ground.
Choosing public service
After working with NGOs and development projects, I began thinking about what I wanted from the next stage of my career.
I wanted stability, but that was not the only reason I considered government service. I wanted to contribute through public institutions and understand how decisions and policies were made.
So I applied for the civil service. I was fortunate to pass and was posted as an officer in the Ministry of Forests and Environment.
It was another important chapter of my life.
It also made me more aware of something I had experienced before but had not fully understood — the way gender can influence how people perceive authority.
I remember situations where a man in a lower position would be addressed as Sir, while I would be called sister.
To be clear, being called sister never offended me. It is a normal and often affectionate way of addressing someone in our culture.
What stayed with me was the difference in how people sometimes responded to us.
People would enter a room and instinctively approach the male officer first. There were occasions when I had to review files, make decisions and sign documents, only for people to look surprised when they realised I was the person responsible.
It was never one dramatic incident. It was a series of small moments.
And sometimes those small moments tell you a great deal.
They made me realise that people can see age and gender before they see the person, the position or the qualifications.
I could have spent my energy being frustrated by that. Instead, I decided to keep doing my work.
Starting again in America
Eventually, my life took me to the United States. Like many immigrants, I had to begin a new chapter.
I continued my education, completed my higher studies and began working as a Business Analyst and Data Analyst. It was a very different environment from the one I had known in Nepal.
I continued learning, building my career and finding my place professionally.
But after some time, I felt that something was missing.
I wanted to contribute to my community. I wanted to do something beyond my professional work. I wanted to remain connected to Nepal, to Nepali people and to the community around me.
So I began getting involved.
Eventually, I was elected Secretary of the NRNA NCC Colorado Chapter.
That experience gave me a completely different kind of education.
Community work is not the same as a regular job. People volunteer their time. Everyone brings different expectations, personalities and opinions. There are no simple job descriptions, and sometimes there is no clear line between personal relationships and organisational responsibilities.
But I enjoyed it.
I learned a great deal, met wonderful people, worked with committed teams and developed in ways that a corporate job alone could not have offered.
Today, I serve as Secretary of NRNA NCC USA.
And once again, I encountered something familiar.
Under the NRNA NCC USA bylaws, my position is designated Secretary (Women) for election and representation purposes. The designation exists to ensure women’s representation in the election process. It does not create a hierarchy between the Secretary (Women) and Secretary (Open) positions. The two positions have equal rights and responsibilities.
Yet I have still encountered people who interpret the word Women as though it means the position comes second.
That raises a question worth asking.
Why should a designation intended to ensure representation be interpreted as a reason to diminish authority?
Women’s representation should not become women’s marginalisation.
If an organisation believes women should have a place in leadership, that place must come with equal respect, responsibility and recognition. Otherwise, representation risks becoming symbolic rather than meaningful.
We also need to look at ourselves
There is another part of this conversation that we do not discuss enough.
Women need to support women.
I have seen women-led organisations and events where male guests are introduced with their professional titles and recognised prominently, while women who organised, contributed to and led the programme receive much less acknowledgement.
That should make us pause.
If we want young women to believe that leadership is possible, we have to demonstrate that belief through our own actions.
Recognise her work.
Give her credit.
Introduce her with the same respect.
Recommend her for an opportunity.
Listen when she speaks.
And when another woman succeeds, we should not see her success as taking something away from us.
Her success does not make our success smaller.
Her seat does not take away our seat.
Her voice does not silence ours.
A personal reflection
This is my experience, and I know that things have changed and continue to change.
I have met many men and women who genuinely support women in leadership. I am grateful for the people who have encouraged me, trusted me and supported me throughout my journey.
But some old attitudes remain in our communities — in how women are recognised, whose voices are heard and whose contributions receive acknowledgement.
Sometimes supporting another woman is as simple as saying, I see your work. Keep going.
Those words can mean more than we realise.
What I want to leave behind
When I look back at my journey — from a young district officer in Nepal, to a government officer, to an immigrant professional in the United States and now an elected community leader — I can see how each chapter prepared me for the next.
My years in NGOs and development projects taught me how to build trust.
Government service taught me institutional responsibility.
My professional career taught me adaptability and continuous learning.
Community leadership taught me service.
And being a woman in leadership taught me resilience.
But perhaps the most important lesson is this:
Leadership is not simply about earning a seat at the table. It is about making sure the table has room for others.
I want young women to enter leadership without first asking whether people will accept them.
I want them to be judged by their work.
I want them to be able to disagree without being labelled difficult.
I want them to be ambitious without being questioned for it.
I want women to recognise and support the contributions of other women.
And I want men to understand that supporting women in leadership does not diminish men’s leadership.
It strengthens the organisations and communities we all belong to.
Ultimately, leadership should not be measured by who speaks the loudest or who occupies the most visible position. It should be measured by service, accountability, competence and contribution.
That is the kind of leadership I have tried to practise.
And it is the kind of leadership I hope to make easier for the women who come after me.
