I saw her name in a local publication, and everything I thought I knew about her shifted.
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I met her the way I meet most women: in the chair, mid-conversation, somewhere between the shampoo bowl and a blowout. She was warm but measured. Interesting but private. The kind of woman who asks more questions than she answers.
I knew I liked her energy. I found her genuinely fascinating—the way she listened, the way she carried herself, the quiet confidence that didn’t need to announce itself... But she never talked much about her work. When I asked, she’d deflect. “Oh, you know, just keeping busy.”
I respected that. As a stylist, my job was to take care of her, not interrogate her, so I didn’t push.
She’d built something remarkable. A business. A reputation. A body of work that had quietly influenced her entire industry in our small market. The article painted a picture of someone visionary, accomplished, respected by peers I didn’t even know she had.
And I had no idea.
I wish she’d told me. Not for gossip—but because I would have loved to learn from her. To ask her questions. To understand how she built what she built. Instead, I did my job and she kept her story to herself.
Now, years later and away from doing as much hair, I actually regret not pursuing her more. I was trying to be respectful. But maybe what she needed was someone to see her—really see her—and say: “Tell me everything.”
• • •
She Built Something Real
Not loud. Not trending. Not overnight.
She built it in the margins—between school pickups and client calls, between doubt and deadline. She built it by showing up when no one was watching, by solving problems that didn’t have playbooks, by trusting a hunch when everyone else wanted a strategy deck.
If you ask her how she did it? She’ll pause. Deflect. Say ‘we’ instead of ‘I.’
And now it works. Her business runs. Her clients return. Her systems hum along without her having to explain them every time. She’s done the thing so many people only talk about.
• • •
The Struggle Isn't Ability. It's Articulation.
She’s the founder who can’t quite explain her own genius. She knows what she does—but the language for it? The framework? The pitch? That’s where she goes quiet.
Not because she doesn’t understand, but because she learned it by doing, not by reading. Her instincts aren’t from a course, they’re from a decade of trying, failing, adjusting, and trying again.
“I” feels too exposed. “I” invites criticism. “I” means someone might look too closely and decide she’s not enough.
So she hides behind “we.” We built this. We figured it out. We made it work.
• • •
The Secret She Carries
Sometimes The Joanna has a partner who said he wanted her to succeed. He said it out loud, in front of friends, at dinner parties. Supportive. Proud, even.
But behind closed doors, the story was different. The small comments. The shifting goalposts. The way her success seemed to shrink the room instead of fill it.
She didn’t lose her voice. She learned to whisper it.
She learned to make herself smaller. To downplay. To share credit she didn’t owe. Not because she was weak—but because peace at home sometimes costs more than recognition in public.
• • •
The Creative Spiral
When The Joanna feels unsteady, she doesn’t crumble. She creates.
A new project. A new system. A new idea that demands her full attention. It’s not avoidance—it’s survival. If she’s building, she’s not falling apart. If she’s solving, she’s not spiraling.
But here’s what she doesn’t always see: that instinct? That’s a superpower. The ability to channel chaos into creation is rare. The problem isn’t the spiral—it’s that she never stops long enough to claim what she’s made.
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What The Joanna Needs
She doesn’t need another course. She doesn’t need permission. She doesn’t need someone to tell her she’s capable—she already knows she is, even if she won’t say it.
What she needs is language. A way to translate her instincts into frameworks others can understand. A way to say “I built this” without bracing for impact.
• • •
If You Saw Yourself In This...
Even a glimpse—you’re not alone.
The Joanna isn’t broken. She’s just been building so long she forgot to document the blueprints. The proof is there. The success is real. The only thing missing is the claim.
And maybe it starts with something small. One sentence. One moment. One time you say “I” instead of “we” and let it land.
She doesn’t need to be louder. She just needs to stop whispering.
With you in this journey ,
🤍 Quinn
Download the companion printable:
A free worksheet to translate your instincts into language you can finally own.
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T H E C U L T Introduction:
New here? Let me introduce you to the women I write for.
After 25 years behind the chair, I’ve held space for thousands of women. The Meredith, The Dana, The Joanna, and The Margot were born from them.
Find yourself in one. Or all four.
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