Georgette Orr

I attribute my success to support and knowing what to do with it.

I grew up in a supportive family; including my mom, my dad, aunts, and uncles. There was never a moment where anyone said “‘you can’t” or “you won’t.” That sounds simple, but it’s not. A lot of people don’t have that. That early belief became the foundation I built everything else on.

As I moved into my professional career, that support extended in a different form: mentors, coaches, sponsors; people who were willing to pour into me before I had the résumé to justify it. Some of those relationships were formal. Most weren’t. But what I learned is that being poured into only matters if you’re intentional about what you do with it.

So I’d say the combination of unconditional belief early on, and a community that continued to show up throughout. That’s what made the difference. I didn’t build alone. But I also made sure that every door that opened, I walked through it fully prepared.

The best career advice I’ve ever received wasn’t words, but actions. It came through the mentorship and example of two extraordinary women, Rosemary McCullough and Beverly Johnson, whose guidance profoundly shaped both my professional and personal journey. Miss Rosemary first took an interest in my growth through our professional connection, which later evolved into meaningful collaboration in community leadership and board service, including our work with the African American Hall of Fame Museum’s downstate Illinois chapter. Serving alongside her, particularly as co-chair of the fundraising committee, taught me the importance of service-driven leadership, community impact, and creating opportunities for future generations through scholarships and educational support. Beverly Johnson, whom I met through work and later through our shared sorority affiliation, demonstrated the power of professionalism, integrity, and lifelong commitment to volunteerism and leadership. Observing both women showed me that true success is not only measured by career accomplishments, but by the ability to uplift others, lead with purpose, and leave a meaningful impact on the communities you serve.

The advice I would give to young women entering my industry is to embrace confidence, even when it feels uncomfortable at first. While it may sound trite, the idea of “fake it till you make it” can be a powerful mindset when applied thoughtfully. I’ve learned that self-doubt can often influence how we show up and perform, sometimes more than we realize. Instead of allowing those internal uncertainties to take hold, I encourage maintaining an outward sense of confidence and capability—as though success has already been achieved. That mindset not only helps shift how others perceive you, but also reinforces your own belief in what you are capable of accomplishing, ultimately helping to propel you forward.

As someone who sits in both a corporate leadership role and a founder’s seat, I have two vantage points on this question.

On the corporate side, organizations are navigating change at a pace that their governance structures were not built for. The pressure to transform, whether that is technology, regulation, or workforce shifts, is real. But the infrastructure to manage that change with rigor and sustainability often lags behind the ambition. The opportunity is in helping organizations slow down enough to build the right systems so the change actually holds.

There is also a people dimension that does not get enough attention. Change risk is not just operational. It is human. How people receive change and move through it determines whether any transformation actually sticks. Organizations that understand that will lead. Those that treat it as a communications checkbox will keep wondering why their initiatives stall.

On the entrepreneurial side, first-generation and underrepresented professionals are more visible, more vocal, and more connected than at any point I can remember. But visibility without infrastructure does not move people forward. The real work is building the frameworks, the content, and the community that helps people navigate, not just be seen.

The common thread in both worlds is the same. Systems matter. People matter more. And the leaders who can hold both of those truths at once are the ones who will define what this next chapter looks like.

The two values I come back to in everything are faith and authenticity.

My Christian faith is the foundation. It shapes how I make decisions, how I show up in relationships, and how I navigate the hard moments. It is not something I separate from my professional life. It is woven through all of it.

Authenticity came into focus early in my career when I attended a women’s leadership seminar that introduced me to this tension between naïveté and gravitas. That framing stayed with me. What struck me most was the idea that naïveté has a quiet power to it. When you don’t fully know your limitations, you attempt things you might otherwise talk yourself out of. That freedom to just go for it, before experience teaches you to hesitate, is something I learned to protect rather than outgrow.

What I’ve also learned is that all the skills in the world, communication, strategy, executive presence, only land when they are coming from a place that is genuinely yours. Authenticity is what allows me to show up fully, both vulnerable and confident, and lead with clarity. It is not about being the loudest or the most polished. It is about being consistent, the same person at the table that I am everywhere else.