She was smart. Stylish. Spoke in team-player tones and smiled at everyone in the room.
She read feminist books, gave designer gifts generously, posted quotes about women’s empowerment, and even cried in meetings — the vulnerable kind of cry, not the manipulative kind.
At least, not at first.

She wasn’t the obvious villain.
But she was one of the most quietly damaging female leaders I’ve worked under.

Because behind the performance of empowerment, she was playing a different game.

Her loyalty was to the men in power.
Even when they were dangerous.
Especially when they were.

She would close the door and argue for hours with one of them — a man known for emotionally abusing his team.
But she loved it.
She called it “passion.” She said, “That’s just how he is.”

Another man? He’d lost millions at his last company — cost them a steady revenue contract, got fired.
She brought him in as her new boss.
Not because he was qualified.
Because she was emotionally attached to a fantasy version of him.
A man who once broke her heart — and still held space in it.

She even stepped down from her own role to work under a narcissistic man she once managed.
A man who then started targeting others.
She didn’t stop him. She joined him.

She talked about empowering women.
But she couldn’t protect them—not even from herself.

She gave me more work.
Expected me to impress the men above her.
Wouldn’t advocate for my promotion.

And when I left?

She badmouthed me.

Not loudly, of course.
She was too polished for that.
But whispers travel. Especially in rooms led by insecurity and ego.

It took me a while to understand what I was witnessing.
And it all traced back to one relationship:

Her father.

He was the first man she ever looked up to.
A difficult man. Powerful, respected — and emotionally unreachable.

She grew up believing that to matter, she had to earn the attention of men like him.
To survive, she had to become someone they wouldn’t abandon.

So she shaped her identity around being useful to men.
Admired the cold ones. Protected the cruel ones.
And called it strength.

She wasn’t leading.
She was reenacting her childhood — on company time.

And I don’t say this to shame her.

I say it because this is how the unhealed feminine becomes a weapon —
not just against herself, but against other women.

These women aren’t rare.
They exist at every level of leadership.
And they cause a unique kind of pain:

They know your language.
They smile while they sabotage.
They preach empowerment while protecting the very systems that broke them.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

When women haven’t done their healing, they don’t lead — they seek approval.

They’ll shrink themselves to fit into toxic rooms.
And ask you to do the same.
They’ll mistake people-pleasing for diplomacy.
They’ll let abusive men stay in power…
…then ask why the rest of us are so emotional.

They are not bad people.
But they are dangerous leaders.

If you’ve been led by someone like this — I want you to know:
You are not alone.
You are not crazy.
And no, it wasn’t your job to fix them.

These wounds go deep because they came from someone who looked like safety.
But you survived it.
And now, you get to lead differently.

That’s the work I do.

I coach women who have been hurt by other women in power — not to create more blame, but to build real clarity.

We break the cycle.
We stop shrinking.
We reclaim power without turning into the very thing that harmed us.

Because feminism isn’t a look.
It’s a practice.
And it doesn’t mean much if it only shows up on a bookshelf.

✨ If this stirred something in you, you can book a call with me.
You don’t need to carry it quietly anymore.