There’s Something You Don’t Know About me…

There’s something you don’t know about me.

I’m a closeted filmmaker. Period.

Most people know me through tech. They know me as the person who helps companies scale, build revenue engines, sharpen their go to market strategy, fix what is broken, and find new paths to growth. They know me as someone who has spent decades in sales, marketing, revenue leadership, and consulting.

But there has always been another part of me. A creative part.

I love to write. I love to create. I love stories. I love the messy, human, emotional process of taking something private and turning it into something that can make another person feel seen.

And recently, I was reminded that our day jobs do not have to define the full shape of who we are.

Some years ago, during my time at a deep tech company, where I was leading their go to market efforts and helping expand the team in the U.S., we hired a remarkably talented sales lead. From the beginning, Alex and I had a natural synergy between us. I liked his diligence, his fresh approach to the market, and the way he committed to the role.

Because I was driving marketing to support our sales efforts, Alex and I naturally began working closely together on strategy, pipeline generation and building a more structured sales motion.

Deep tech is unique because it's a longer sales cycle that almost always requires education. Adoption is not as immediate as traditional SaaS, and the lockstep between sales and marketing matters.You are not going to close these types of deals on the first phone call, and you are not going to fast track adoption with traditional email sequences alone. You build momentum by creating trust, and often that means getting in front of people.

So Alex and I hit the road to attend an industry event that would put us front and center with our prospect community.

Like any event, there was downtime between sessions, dinners, and space to get to know each other beyond the work. During which Alex and I began getting to know each other a bit more, and more specifically talking about our tech journeys, mine of over 3 decades and his that was just burgeoning into meaningful responsibilities. 

That is when Alex shared that he was a filmmaker. I was shocked.

Not because I doubted his ability. Quite the opposite. I was shocked because I thought, what is this talented filmmaker doing in tech? 

His answer was simple. Tech paid the bills. Filmmaking was his passion.

Alex was not just someone dabbling in film, but an award-winning filmmaker, producer, and director who had already been recognized by his peers and built a meaningful body of work. This was not a side hobby. He understood story, structure, and the discipline it takes to bring a film to life.

At the same time, my daughter was studying at The New School in New York City. She was writing and exploring filmmaking herself, and she had just written a screenplay that absolutely blew me away. I always knew she was talented, but this was different. It was one of those moments as a parent where you see your child not only as your child, but as an artist. 

I shared her screenplay with Alex.

His feedback was generous, thoughtful, and validating. He told me she was beyond gifted, talented, and an astute writer. His feedback meant a lot. Not because I needed someone else to tell me what I already knew, but because I trusted his opinion. This was his field afterall and I always saw leading with what you're passionate about as a “high risk”, unstable. In many ways, Alex planted a seed of validation within me. That you do not have to be defined by just one thing and that there is a tremendous gift in exploring creative outlets.

Our conversations about film and art continued. Eventually, Alex told me about a film his girlfriend was working on. Kiah is an actor, producer, director, and filmmaker with a long list of accomplishments. But this particular short film was deeply personal to her.

It follows Kaleigh, a young woman dealing with the physical and emotional toll of endometriosis and HPV, as she searches for empathy and is pushed toward desperate measures.

When Alex said that, something clicked.

Suddenly, all these seemingly separate conversations started to align. Film. Writing. Women’s health. Silence. Pain. Storytelling. The parts of ourselves we bring to work and the parts we hide.

Because what very few people knew, outside of my immediate family, was that I had struggled with endometriosis for most of my young and adult life.

I had so many surgical procedures in my early years that I was told I would likely never have children.

Anyone who knows me knows that once you challenge me with something, I tend to topple it. So yes, I went on to have children. But it did not happen easily, and not without pain. It also did not happen without fear or without years of trying to function while my body was fighting me.

Endometriosis was a huge source of physical pain, emotional exhaustion, and depression. For most of my teen and young adult years, there were days I had to show up for work when I barely could stand on my own. Days when I had to grin and bear it, going from one to three jobs in a day to make ends meet, while preparing for the next procedure. Days when I was recovering from what doctors casually called a clean out, worried about the impact it would have on my job. 

And the crazy thing is, that almost no one knew.

That is the thing about chronic pain, especially the kind women are often expected to carry quietly. You learn to perform normal. You learn to smile through it. To show up. You learn to put on the uniform, that eventually became a blazer. To take the meeting, hit the number, board the flight, all while pretending that your body is not screaming at you.

Eventually, in my case, things shifted. Having children changed my body in ways that helped ease the symptoms. It did not erase the years that came before it, but it gave me relief I was not sure I would ever have.

So when I learned that Kiah had written a short film connected to endometriosis, I could not wait to talk with her, I could not wait to read it.

And when Kiah and I eventually connected, she gave me the opportunity to participate in the film as a producer.

I am immensely proud of that.

I thought long and hard about whether I should talk about this venture that in many ways has surfaced as therapy I never knew I needed, publicly, especially because of the title of this film, Her Pretty Vagina. Funny enough in a recent publicity tour for the film Kaih was asked herself if she had concerns over the title and if it would diminish the real story behind it. She stood her ground and explained why the title was exactly what needed saying.  

Now here I was pondering whether I share this with my community. Do I post this to LinkedIn?

As techies, LinkedIn is where we have been taught to present the polished version of ourselves. The credible version. The accomplishments, big deals, wins the many accolades. For most it is where you source your next role, partner, the hireable version. Not the personal version. The one connected to pain, to women’s issues, or the private battles we are taught to hide. It is not exactly where people expect to see the words Her Pretty Vagina. And yes, the title is a play on HPV. 

And just maybe that is exactly why it belongs there.

Do I put writer, executive producer, wannabe film maker on LinkedIn? 

Do I let people in my network see that title attached to my name? I am from the old tech brigade, after all. The place where we keep it PC, respectable, and buttoned up. Where we do not show our growing baby bump, our ink, our scars - especially when the topic is women’s bodies, women’s pain, or women’s health.

Would tech executives, investors, recruiters, founders, or a fellow board member look at it and think, unhirable?

A few years ago, I might have cared. Shit, if I am honest, a few weeks ago I would have cared.

Today? Not anymore.

I have worked hard enough, long enough, and successfully enough to decide what to share, what to celebrate, and what to make room for next. I am not walking away from tech. It is part of my makeup. I am and always will be a builder. I love the work of helping companies scale. I love assisting them on translating complexity, building momentum, and creating paths to revenue. That will always be part of who I am. But it is not the only part of who I am.

That work will continue.

My day job is still consulting. I will still roll up my sleeves with the best of them. I will still mentor C-levels and founders, help leadership teams build marketing plans, sales plans, customer journeys, revenue infrastructure, and partner motions. I will still assist companies that have plateaued find new ways to access growth, funding, and market relevance.

But I also want you to know that I can add writer, executive producer and film maker to the list. More to come on that front.

Her Pretty Vagina (did you scrunch your face a little reading that) is a film that deeply matters to me not only because I got to participate in it, but because it gave language and visibility to something I kept hidden for most of my life. I have worked with people in tech for over 20 years, and no one knew about my quiet struggles with endometriosis in those early days of my career.

Alex became the one person I shared this with. It was scary, cathartic, it was unexpected. It was time. 

And, who knew that conversation would spark such an unexpected journey?

Who knew that sharing something painful and private would become a bridge into a creative world I had quietly longed for?

Who knew that the sales lead I admired in tech would become the person who introduced me to Kiah, to this film, and to a part of myself I had not fully allowed into the room.  Forbes recently covered HPV, calling out three women-led films that people should pay attention to. Congratulations Ms. Kiah!

Thank you, Alex, for the introduction to Kiah. Thank you for letting me explore your world. And thank you for helping me see that it might be my world too.

So why share this?  It's taken me 3 decades to state that we should not be solely limited or defined by our day jobs.

We are allowed to be and do many things.

In my case that is…Strategist. Builder, Operator. Consultant. Mother. And now Writer. Producer. Filmmaker.

I hope you get to see our little film and explore your own passions.