Stop waiting for the green light. Your validation doesn’t have to come from someone else. You can go first.
For years, I told myself the story that every success I’ve had came because someone tapped me on the shoulder. A lieutenant once told me I had leadership potential. What I thought was bossiness, he reframed as command presence. Mentors and bosses helped me see parts of myself I couldn’t yet see.
And yes, I’m grateful for them. But lately I’ve wondered: were they the reason for my success? Or were they just witnesses to something I was already building?
Here’s a reality: sometimes the tap on the shoulder never comes. And if you’re waiting for it, you risk sitting out your own life.
When No One Sees You
My friend Marcus grew up in dysfunction—violence, neglect, constant survival. By every statistic, he should have repeated the cycle. But he didn’t. Through relentless work and therapy, he built stability, kindness, and success. One day he told me, “I’m really proud of myself.” He wasn’t bragging. He was telling the truth.
Jenna’s story is similar. She put herself through law school against all odds. She had no safety net, no one to fall back on. Today, she runs her own law firm. And yet, some relatives still try to claim credit for her success. But they weren’t there. They didn’t sit in the classrooms or the courtrooms. She did. She earned every inch of it.
Their stories remind me: sometimes the only witness to your becoming is you. And that has to be enough.
Giving Myself Permission
There were plenty of moments when no one was nudging me forward. I applied for leadership roles I “wasn’t supposed” to want. I spoke up in meetings when my voice shook. I made decisions that scared me. I wasn’t always brave, but I acted anyway. And that mattered.
Years later, I applied to be Superintendent of the Chicago Police Department. By every measure, I wasn’t qualified. But I refused to keep sitting out of rooms I wanted to be in. So I applied—not because I thought I’d get the job, but because I wouldn’t wait for someone else to tell me I belonged. I didn’t get it. But I’m proud I went for it anyway. I tapped myself.
The Courage to Own It
Not long ago, actor Timothée Chalamet caused a stir with an award acceptance speech. He stood on stage and said plainly, “I’m really in pursuit of greatness. I want to be one of the greats.” He didn’t say it with arrogance, but with clarity. He talked about spending five and a half years pouring himself into a role, and then—unapologetically—thanked himself for showing up.
The internet mocked him for being “full of himself.” But what he really did was give voice to something most of us are afraid to admit: I worked hard for this. I earned this.
Here’s the danger: we think humility means shrinking. We think we’re not allowed to say, “I earned this.” But erasing our contribution to our own story isn’t humility—it’s denial.
In “The Courage to Be Disliked”, Ichiro Kishimi and Fumitake Koga argue that constantly chasing recognition keeps us living for other people’s expectations. They remind us that freedom is being disliked. Why? Because it means you’ve stopped performing for approval and started living by your own principles.
External validation feels good in the moment. But it rarely builds courage that lasts. That comes only from owning the truth: I did this. I chose this. I built this.
Stop Waiting for the Tap
Some of your most important moves will go unnoticed. Some of your boldest acts will be met with silence—or even resistance. Do them anyway.
You don’t need applause. You don’t need a standing ovation. And you sure as hell don’t need permission.
The version of me I trust most isn’t the one who waited for a mentor to see her. It’s the one who applied scared. Who spoke up shaky. Who tapped herself.
And you have that version of you too. Look back: when was the last time you chose yourself? When did you act without knowing how it would turn out? Those moments are proof. Proof you’ve been brave before—and you can be brave again.
So stop waiting for a sign. Stop waiting for a tap on the shoulder. Tap yourself. Start the conversation. Apply for the thing. Leave the situation. Burn the script that says you need permission to move.
Because you don’t.
Do it scared. That’s where the power lives.
If this resonated…Forward it to someone — Help me grow our tribe of disrupters!
🖤 Onward and upward,
Kristen
