Letter to Younger Self: Leadership journey that began with sisterhood

Every scar has a story. “Letter to My Younger Self” invites you into the reflective hearts of people who've walked winding roads—offering gentle truths, bold lessons, and encouragement for anyone still figuring it out. These weekly letters are full of grace and grit, showing how setbacks shape wisdom and how the past still holds power to teach. From nurturing curiosity to embracing mentorship, each piece is a tribute to growth through lived experience.

Wawira Gathoni (Not her real name) pens this week’s heartfelt Letter to My Younger Self. Here is part six of her series 

Dear Younger Self

You did not know it then, but Amka Dada would become one of the most important things you ever built.

At the time, it just felt like a campus club. A simple idea. A space for young women. A leadership initiative.

But looking back now, I realise it was much more than that.

Amka Dada found you at a time when you were slowly losing yourself.

University had given you freedom, yes, but freedom without grounding can become confusion very quickly. You were still trying to figure out who you were outside academic performance, outside other people’s expectations, outside the need to belong.

And like many young women, you were carrying insecurities you did not always speak about openly.

Questions about identity. Questions about confidence.Questions about worth.Questions about what kind of woman you wanted to become.

The strange thing about early adulthood is that people assume you are grown simply because you are older. But internally, many young people are still searching desperately for themselves.

You were too. And then came Amka Dada.Even the name itself carried something powerful. Wake up, sister.

Rise, sister. Become, sister.

You poured yourself into that space completely. Organising meetings. Mobilising girls. Hosting conversations. Creating activities. Encouraging confidence. Building sisterhood. Trying to create the kind of environment where young women felt seen beyond appearance, popularity, or relationships.

And somewhere in the middle of trying to empower other girls, something unexpected happened:

You started empowering yourself too.

I do not think people speak enough about how leadership can heal people.

Not performative leadership. Not titles. Not visibility. Real leadership.

The kind that forces you to become accountable to something bigger than your own emotions.

The kind that pushes you to grow because other people are depending on you.

The kind that reveals strengths you did not know you possessed.

Amka Dada gave you that. It gave you responsibility. It gave you purpose.

It gave you direction during a season when you desperately needed grounding.

And perhaps most importantly, it reintroduced you to yourself.

The thoughtful girl from your childhood slowly returned.

The intelligent girl. The reflective girl. The girl who cared deeply about people.

The girl who wanted her life to mean something beyond social approval.

I think that is why the experience transformed you so deeply. Because for the first time, you were no longer chasing belonging through external validation. You were creating belonging for other people.

That changes a person. Especially a young woman.

There is something deeply transformative about discovering that your voice can create impact. That your ideas matter. That your presence can encourage people. That leadership is not about attention, but about responsibility.

And honestly, many women spend years waiting for permission to discover that about themselves.

Amka Dada became more than a club.

It became a safe space. A mirror. A training ground.

A community for young women trying to navigate identity, ambition, confidence, relationships, and womanhood in a society that often teaches women to shrink themselves.

Looking back now, I realise you were doing empowerment work long before you had professional language for it.

Long before strategy documents. Long before boardrooms. Long before conferences and leadership spaces.

Even then, you were already drawn to helping people grow.

You were already deeply interested in dignity, confidence, and opportunity.

You were already becoming the woman whose work would eventually centre people, systems, education, and transformation.

The seeds were already there.

And maybe that is the beautiful thing about purpose. Sometimes it introduces itself quietly long before we fully recognise it.

At the time, you thought you were simply helping girls in campus. But in reality, Amka Dada was shaping your leadership philosophy.

It was teaching you that people thrive when they feel seen.

It was teaching you that safe spaces matter. It was teaching you that confidence can be nurtured.

It was teaching you that transformation often begins in conversation.

And maybe most importantly, it taught you that healing and helping are sometimes deeply connected.

Because while you were encouraging other girls to rise, you were rising too.

Slowly. Quietly. Honestly.

That season did not make you perfect. But it made you more intentional.

More grounded. More aware of the kind of life you wanted to build.

And years later, when people look at the woman you have become — the leadership, the work, the advocacy, the self-awareness, the passion for education and people — they may think it all started much later.

But you know the truth. Part of it began in those university rooms with young women trying to find themselves.

Part of it began with Amka Dada. And honestly?

I think that club saved you as much as it saved anyone else.

Everyone has a story worth sharing. If you’ve ever wished you could talk to your younger self—with wisdom, forgiveness, or clarity—we invite you to write to us. Your real, heartfelt letter might just be the encouragement someone else needs today. You may remain anonymous if preferred, but your truth matters. We don’t pay contributors, but we believe in the power of shared experience. Join us in building a collection of life’s hard-earned lessons and gentle reminders.

Be part of this movement. Send your Letter to My Younger Self to: [email protected]