When I walk into a room where I'm new, I remind myself that I didn't get there by accident. I might be the youngest person there or the only one who hasn't done this before, but I've learned that preparation and purpose matter more than familiarity. Confidence, for me, comes from listening first, asking thoughtful questions, and staying grounded in why I'm there. I don't try to take up the most space. I try to add value. Over time, I've realized that being underestimated can actually be a strength because it gives you room to show who you are through your actions rather than your title.

When I walk into a room where I'm new or unknown, I remind myself that I don't have to prove everything in one moment. I just have to be prepared, be present, and be willing to learn. Early on, I realized confidence doesn't come from knowing everything. It comes from knowing why you're there. I focus on the value I bring, the problem I care about solving, and the work I've put in behind the scenes. I also learned that it's okay to ask questions. It's okay to grow in public. Being new doesn't mean you don't belong. It just means you're expanding. Over time, I've found that quiet consistency builds more confidence than trying to impress anyone. When you stay grounded in your purpose and lead with humility, people feel that. Confidence, for me, isn't about being the loudest in the room. It's about being steady, prepared, and clear about who you are.

Use the skills you have while learning new ones that are applicable to the path you've chosen. Don't be afraid to take calculated risks. You'll never climb past your plateau by playing it safe.

The first time I walked into a room where I knew no one, I didn't feel influential. I felt observant. I've learned that when you're new, you have two choices: shrink to blend in, or lean in and decide you belong. Early in my real estate career, I found myself in rooms filled with seasoned brokers, developers, top producers, and industry leaders. I didn't have the biggest numbers yet. I didn't have decades of tenure. What I did have was preparation, curiosity, and the willingness to ask better questions than anyone else. Confidence didn't come from pretending I was the most experienced person in the room. It came from knowing I was the most prepared. When you're new, you have an advantage. You listen more. You observe dynamics. You notice what others overlook. Instead of trying to dominate conversations, I focused on adding value. I asked thoughtful questions. I followed up. I connected people. I positioned myself as someone who contributes, not someone who competes. I also made a conscious decision to show up polished and professional before I felt "ready." Sometimes confidence is borrowed from your discipline. I showed up on time. I followed through. I did what I said I would do. Over time, that consistency built credibility and credibility builds confidence. There were moments I felt underestimated. Instead of reacting emotionally, I let results speak. I studied contracts harder. I negotiated smarter. I invested in marketing before it was comfortable. I built relationships before I needed them. Confidence grew every time I proved to myself that I could deliver. The truth is, no one hands you confidence when you walk into a new room. You build it in layers: • By preparing when no one is watching. • By speaking up even when your voice shakes. • By offering value before asking for opportunity. • By staying in the room long enough for your presence to become expected. Now when I enter unfamiliar spaces luxury broker opens, networking events, development meetings I remind myself: I earned my seat. And if I didn't, I'll earn it by how I show up. Confidence isn't loud. It's consistent. And sometimes the most powerful thing you can do in a room where you're new… is decide you belong there.

I'm originally from Louisiana, a place where community is everything! I grew up surrounded by family, by people who knew my story before I ever had to explain it. Today, I live in a state where I don't have immediate family nearby. I built my support system from scratch. Friends became family. Mentors became anchors. And as a mother of three sons, I learned something profound: confidence isn't something you wait to feel, it's something you choose to model! That lesson followed me into every new professional space. I've walked into rooms where I was the newest voice. Sometimes I was the only woman, and sometimes the only woman of color. I remember sitting at a leadership table early in my transition into a large corporate organization. I had prepared thoroughly. I knew the data. I had the strategy. Yet as the conversation intensified, a quiet doubt surfaced: "Am I qualified enough to be here?" For a moment I considered shrinking, but instead I chose to speak. I calmly walked through the metrics, identified operational gaps, and proposed a clear path forward. The energy in the room shifted. What began as uncertainty turned into alignment. At that moment, I realized confidence isn't about eliminating doubt, it's about deciding your voice matters anyway! Since then, when I enter a new room, I do three things. First, I prepare deeply. Preparation quiets insecurity. Second, I listen strategically. Being new is an advantage because you notice what others overlook. Third, I add structure. In rooms full of ideas, clarity becomes leadership. I've learned that credibility isn't built by being the loudest voice. It's built by being the one who brings focus, insight, and forward movement. I don't focus on proving myself. I focus on serving the room because service builds credibility. Moving away from home taught me resilience. Motherhood taught me courage. Leadership taught me presence. When you carry your roots, your preparation, and your purpose with you, you never walk into a room alone. I encourage you: Do NOT wait to belong — become the reason the room rises!

Walking into a new room, especially as someone with a visible mission and invisible challenges like Multiple Sclerosis (MS), can be intimidating. I've come to understand that real confidence isn't about standing out the most or speaking the loudest. It's about arriving as your whole, authentic self, whether you walk in with a cane, roll in with a wheelchair, ride a scooter, or navigate the world in your own unique way. It's about being grounded in your experience, your truth, and your purpose. When I founded The New Face of MS®, I entered spaces where I was unknown, sometimes underestimated, and often the only person representing the MS and disabled community. I relied on preparation, authenticity, and the belief that my work mattered, not recognition or approval. Over time, showing up consistently, listening actively, and honoring my expertise built trust and credibility naturally. Confidence came from doing the work, celebrating small wins, and knowing my voice mattered. It also came from leaning on a support system that believed in me: my family, my team, and my community. By focusing on contribution rather than comparison, I learned to walk into any room with calm authority, ready to represent my mission and empower others along the way.

When I walked into the classrooms at the University of Mount Union, I was entering a completely new environment with new undergraduate students, new finance courses, and a different classroom dynamic. At the beginning, there is always a sense of discovery on both sides: students are getting to know their professor, and the professor is learning how the students think, participate, and approach economic and financial ideas. Building confidence in that room came from preparation and from creating a space where students felt comfortable asking questions and exploring complex topics such as financial markets, risk, and decision-making. Each class gradually became more interactive, and over time the room that once felt unfamiliar became a place of exchange, curiosity, and learning. My experience at the University of Akron felt different in an important way. The environment there was extremely kind and welcoming, and the graduate students created a very respectful and intellectually engaged atmosphere. Because they were graduate students, the conversations were often deeper and more analytical, with strong discussions about macroeconomic models, advanced analysis, and policy implications. Their professionalism and intellectual curiosity made the classroom feel collaborative from the very beginning. In many ways, that supportive environment helped build confidence quickly, because the students approached the material with seriousness and openness, making the teaching experience both stimulating and rewarding.

Walking into a room where you are new can be intimidating—especially when the room was never really designed for you in the first place. I stepped into a leadership role where the executive team was primarily made up of men. They even had a standing meeting they jokingly referred to as the "Boys Group." As a woman entering that environment, it definitely made me pause for a moment. You can either try to force your way into the conversation immediately, or you can take the time to truly understand the room. I chose the second approach. For the first four months of my new position, I intentionally stayed quiet. Anyone who knows me knows that being quiet doesn't come naturally to me. But in that moment, I understood that confidence doesn't always mean being the loudest voice in the room. Sometimes confidence means listening first. During that time, I observed how decisions were made, how conversations flowed, and what mattered most to the leadership team. I wanted to understand the rhythm of the business before inserting my voice into it. Eventually, the COO jokingly gave me the nickname "QT," which stood for "Quietly Tenacious." At first it made everyone laugh, but in many ways it perfectly captured my approach. I wasn't quiet because I lacked confidence. I was quiet because I was learning. And once I understood the environment, I began contributing in ways that added real value. That experience taught me an important lesson: Confidence isn't always about speaking first. Sometimes it's about listening long enough to know exactly when your voice will matter most.