Brenda May

There are moments in life that divide everything into before and after.

For me, one of those moments came when I was just twenty-two years old. I was five months pregnant, already the mother of a one-year-old, when I suddenly lost my first husband. In an instant, the life I thought I was building changed. I was grieving, raising a child, preparing to bring another child into the world, and trying to figure out how I was going to keep moving forward.

I didn't know it then, but some of the qualities that would later define me as a woman and a leader were being developed during one of the most painful seasons of my life.

• I was learning resilience.
• I was learning responsibility.
• I was learning how to keep showing up even when life did not give me time to prepare.

Strength Doesn't Mean You Never Struggle

For many years, I thought being strong meant carrying everything and continuing to move forward. As women, we can become very good at doing that.

We take care of our families. We go to work. We handle responsibilities. We solve problems. We encourage everyone around us, sometimes while quietly dealing with our own struggles.

People see the strength, but they don't always see what it takes to maintain it.

Over time, I began to understand that real strength isn't pretending that difficult seasons don't hurt. Strength is acknowledging what you've been through and deciding that it will not have the final word over your life.

My faith became an important part of that journey. I learned that I could experience grief and still have hope. I could face uncertainty and still move forward. And I could go through circumstances I never would have chosen and still build a meaningful life.

When Your Experience Becomes Your Assignment

As I grew personally and professionally, something became increasingly clear to me: the lessons I had learned weren't meant only for me.

There are women everywhere navigating difficult chapters.

Some are rebuilding after loss. Some are struggling financially. Some are trying to find their confidence again. Others are pursuing careers, raising families, starting businesses, stepping into leadership, or simply trying to figure out what comes next.

And too many women believe they have to figure it all out alone.

That realization eventually became part of the foundation for Speak On Sis, Inc., the nonprofit organization I founded in the Hudson Valley.

Our mission is to empower women to build confidence, achieve financial stability, and step into leadership through supportive, community-based programming.

But behind the programs is something even simpler: connection.

I want women to have spaces where they can learn, grow, speak openly, build relationships, and recognize the strength that already exists within them.

Because sometimes the difference between giving up and continuing forward is knowing that someone else sees possibility in you until you can see it for yourself.

Leadership Is More Than a Title

My understanding of leadership has also changed over the years.

I serve as a Postmaster with the United States Postal Service. I am a nonprofit founder and president. I am also the author of Still Standing: A Life Written in Courage. Each of those roles has taught me something about leadership.

But I don't believe leadership begins with a title.

Leadership is how you show up.

It's how you treat people when no one is watching. It's whether you're willing to open a door for someone else after you've walked through it. It's using your experiences—not to prove how strong you are—but to help another person recognize what is possible for them.

Some of the most influential women I have known may never appear on a stage or have impressive titles beside their names. They are mothers, mentors, coworkers, friends, and community members who quietly change lives by showing up for other people.

That is influence.

Your Hardest Chapter Doesn't Have to Be Your Final Chapter

Writing my memoir, Still Standing: A Life Written in Courage, required me to revisit experiences that shaped my life. But the purpose wasn't simply to tell people what happened to me.

The message is in what happened after.

I kept going.

I continued raising my children. I built a career. I continued growing in my faith. I found new purpose. Eventually, I began using the very experiences that once caused me pain to encourage other women.

That is something I want every woman going through a difficult season to remember:

You don't have to know exactly how your story ends while you're still living through the difficult chapter.

• Give yourself permission to grow.
• Give yourself permission to ask for help.
• Give yourself permission to begin again.

And don't underestimate what your experiences may someday allow you to give to someone else.

Building Something That Lasts

Today, I am focused on growth and impact—expanding Speak On Sis throughout the Hudson Valley and beyond, strengthening partnerships, creating sustainable programming, and reaching more women through financial empowerment, leadership, and career development.

But growth isn't meaningful to me simply because an organization becomes larger.

I want to build something that lasts.

I want a woman to walk into one of our programs unsure of herself and leave believing she is capable of more.

I want women to become financially stronger, more confident, and prepared to lead.

And I want the woman reading this who may currently be in one of the hardest chapters of her life to understand something I had to learn for myself:

Where you are today is not necessarily where your story ends.

Sometimes purpose doesn't arrive in spite of what we've been through.

Sometimes it grows directly from it.

And when we have the courage to turn survival into service, our stories can become more than reminders of what we overcame.

They can become a light for someone still finding her way.