LaToya Peace

I attribute my success to being willing to learn, adapt, and take ownership of my growth—but also to how my definition of resilience has evolved.

Earlier in my career, I thought resilience meant being the person who could handle anything: work harder, push through, figure it out, and keep going. That determination has served me well, but I've learned that resilience isn't just about how much you can carry. Sometimes it's having the self-awareness to pivot, being willing to take a lateral move because you see the value in the experience, advocating for your own development, or recognizing that growth doesn't always look like moving up.

I've tried to take something with me from every role—the skills, the relationships, the lessons, and even the challenges. I haven't always known exactly where I was going, and I think that's part of the story. My career hasn't been about following a perfectly planned path; it's been about remaining open enough to recognize the value in where I am while continuing to grow toward what's next.

And at this stage of my life, success looks different to me. It's still achievement and doing work I'm proud of, but it's also impact. It's peace. It's being present for my children. It's using my voice and helping another woman recognize what's possible for her. And it's having the courage to explore gifts and passions that I'm only now fully discovering.

So when I think about what has made me successful, it isn't that I've always known exactly where I was going. It's that I've continued to grow through every version of the journey—and I've allowed my definition of success to grow with me.

The best advice I've ever received wasn't necessarily about how to build a successful career. It was about how to make decisions I could live with.

Years ago, when my mom was facing a serious health crisis, I was trying to balance being there for her with all the other responsibilities I thought I needed to maintain. Someone encouraged me to stop thinking about what I should do and ask myself a different question: When I look back on this moment, what decision will I be able to live with?

That question has stayed with me. I've learned that the "right" decision isn't always the one that looks best on paper. Sometimes it's the one that allows you to remain at peace with yourself.

That philosophy has followed me into my career as well. Over nearly two decades in HR, I've learned not to become so attached to a title, promotion, or perfectly linear career path that I miss the experience I'm being offered. I've taken lateral moves, stepped into unfamiliar spaces, and remained open to learning things that weren't necessarily part of my original plan. I've come to believe there is something I can take with me from every role—sometimes it's a new skill, sometimes it's a relationship, and sometimes it's simply greater clarity about what I want next.

I've also learned that being open doesn't mean being passive. You have to advocate for your own growth. Ask for the opportunity. Have the uncomfortable conversation. Tell people what you're interested in. Seek out the experience you need. We sometimes assume that if we work hard enough, someone will eventually notice what we're capable of and hand us the next opportunity. I've learned not to leave my development entirely in someone else's hands.

So today, when I'm faced with a decision, professionally or personally, I try to ask myself two things: What can I learn from this? And what choice can I live with? Because I've realized that growth isn't always upward, and the best decision isn't always the most impressive one. Sometimes the move that makes the least sense on paper becomes the experience that makes everything else make sense later.

I would tell young women that leadership and success are not about learning how to become less of yourself in order to fit into a room. They're about having the confidence to bring more of who you are into it.

Early in your career, there's a natural tendency to look around and study what success looks like—how leaders speak, how they show up, what seems to get rewarded—and then try to replicate it. There is value in learning from others, but don't become so focused on fitting the mold that you lose what makes you uniquely valuable.

Your voice, perspective, empathy, curiosity, creativity—even the parts of yourself you may have once considered "too much"—can become some of your greatest leadership strengths.

Learn the business. Be excellent at your craft. Ask questions. Build relationships. Find people who will challenge you and advocate for you. But also pay attention to what feels genuine to you and give yourself permission to develop your own definition of leadership.

And don't shrink yourself to fit into spaces you've earned the right to be in.

The goal isn't to become the woman you think success requires. It's to keep growing into the woman you are—and have the courage to let her lead.

It may sound a little convenient coming from someone whose last name is Peace, but peace really is one of the values that matters most to me. And funny enough, it has taken me a long time to understand what it actually means.

I'm in a season where I'm learning more about myself, discovering new parts of my purpose, and thinking more intentionally about what I want the next chapter of my life to look like. As I've grown, I've become more aware of how important it is for the values that guide me personally to also show up in the way I lead, work, and contribute professionally. It's less about separating the different parts of who I am and more about bringing the fullness of myself to all of them.

For me, that's where authenticity, integrity, growth, and impact come in. Peace looks like being able to show up genuinely without feeling like I have to perform or shrink parts of myself to be successful. It means making decisions that align with my values and that I can live with. It means staying curious and open enough to keep growing, even when growth requires me to stretch beyond what's familiar.

And increasingly, it means being intentional about impact. Whether I'm leading at work, raising my children, writing, or showing up for the people in my life, I want what I contribute to matter.

I've realized that peace isn't about having a life without challenges. For me, it's about alignment—knowing who I am, what I value, and allowing those things to shape how I live and how I lead.

That's the kind of success I'm most interested in building now—a life where what I achieve never comes at the expense of who I am.