When Cohort 1 of the Impact Leaders Mentorship Programme began, seven mentees arrived focused on outputs, goals and tangible outcomes. 42 sessions later, what emerged was that the most important work had happened internally. One mentee arrived with the ingredients for a strong professional identity but no single sentence to hold them together. Before lasting impact could be created, confidence had to be strengthened and professional identities more fully claimed.

As mentees progressed through the programme, they began to recognise that the challenge was not a lack of skills or experience, but the ability to communicate the value they possessed.

The mentorship programme is grounded in the Mindset-to-Output framework, a practical approach created by its Director, Ms. Margaret Akullo, and one that develops the clarity, discipline and confidence needed to turn mentees’ ideas into finished, real-world outputs. Under the Mindset-to-Output framework, building the mindset of mentees for future impact became the foundation upon which confidence, visibility, professional identity and meaningful outputs began to emerge.

Midterm reflections showed movement in both visible actions and growing self-awareness, particularly in recognising the difference between listing skills and communicating value. That shared experience among mentees created a supportive environment that reduced isolation and normalised common challenges around confidence, visibility and identity.

The cohort’s development was further supported by a positioning and branding masterclass delivered by Ms. Mengting Li, brand architect, creative director and digital strategist supporting the Impact Leaders Initiative. The masterclass helped mentees bridge the gap between having value and communicating it effectively, while strengthening their professional identity and shaping a more intentional digital footprint.

While the programme focuses on structure, accountability and feedback, its deeper impact has been a shift in mindset and perspective. The outputs mattered, but the mindset shift made them possible.

Congratulations to Cohort 1 on the completion of the Impact Leaders Mentorship Programme 2026.

• Ms. Adedolapo Akingbade, Nigeria

• Ms. Deborah Nyarko-Mensah, Ghana

• Ms. Hinano Daisy Bull, Japan-Britain

• Mr. Kingsley Kobina Koomson, Ghana

• Ms. Lujam Okello, Uganda-Britain

• Mr. Siyabonga Mazibuko, South Africa

• Dr. Vuyelwa Maweni, South Africa

Margaret is a Ugandan-born British criminologist, mentor, and leadership adviser whose work spans thirty-five years and four continents, often in places where justice was something people struggled to access, protect, and sustain in their daily lives.

Yet for all the policy discussions, international development work, and high-level engagement, the thread connecting her work has remained remarkably consistent: a belief in people and their capacity to grow, lead, and create change. She describes her work as a mentor as shaping leadership from the inside out. “When young leaders are seen, supported, and equipped,” she says, “they not only rise, but they also help transform the world around them.”

Margaret learned she had been anonymously selected to receive a PROSI Excellence Award, presented during the inaugural PROSI Exotic Festival 2026 in Vienna on 13 June. The award recognises individuals who have made a meaningful difference, in Austria, in their country of origin, and/or globally.

On receiving the award, Margaret said: “It took decades to make mentoring emerging leaders my purpose. I share this award with my mentees, past and present, in Austria and across the world. Watching them step into their own leadership is the true measure of this work.”

What stayed with her longer than the award itself was the anonymity of the nomination. Fellow members of the diaspora put her name forward, and said nothing about it. “To be of service to others leaves traces even when you cannot see them,” Margaret said. “Sometimes someone has been paying attention all along, and one day, without telling you, they decide you deserve to be seen.”

When the nominators came forward, their message was simple: “You are a true inspiration to many of us. I am happy you were chosen, as you truly deserve the excellence award for the mentorship work you do under your Impact Leaders Initiative.”

The nomination came through EmpowerHer, an initiative by Diaspora Creatives and several others from the diaspora in Austria.

Margaret extends her thanks to PROSI and the PROSI Global Charity Foundation for the recognition.

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I am a Ugandan-born British criminologist turned mentor. I have worked with institutions across the world, sat in government ministries, negotiated inside multilateral organisations, and chaired the board of a children's NGO. In nearly every one of those rooms, I was the only African woman. I learned early that the person who controls the narrative controls the room. I also learned that the narrative about an African woman in global institutions — diasporan, professional, intelligent, ambitious — is almost always written by someone else.

So, I write to take that back.

I write for many people, but there is one reader I return to again and again when I write on certain topics. She is young and somewhere between early and mid-career, navigating international spaces that are not fully built for her. She is navigating a professional world that asks her to perform fluency in a culture that is not fully hers. She code-switches before she has even decided what she thinks. She is competent in ways that go unrecognised, and she is tired in ways that are rarely acknowledged. She rarely sees her particular experience described with precision. I write for her.

But I would be dishonest if I did not also name who I am writing against. I am writing against the version of young African women that international institutions allow. The one that is resilient but not authoritative. Present but not powerful. Grateful but not demanding. The one that can be cited as supporting programmes but not trusted to lead them. I have watched that construction operate for more than three decades in policy rooms, conference halls and international leadership spaces.

I am also writing against the diaspora story that tends to flatten complex lives into stories of either achievement or adversity. My experience and those of most diasporan women I know fit neither. We are more interesting than that, and the stories that exist in between achievement and adversity matter. It is often in that space that the most valuable insights are overlooked. The experiences institutions dismiss as anecdotal frequently contain the clearest evidence of how identity, belonging and power are negotiated in everyday life. Lived experience is not anecdotal. It is data, and it reveals the gap between how institutions assume people experience the world and how they actually navigate it.

My perspective as a Ugandan diasporan woman is not incidental to my work on leadership, mentorship, identity and belonging. It is the lens that allows me to see how power moves through a room, what people carry into it, and why certain voices go unheard even when they have the most to offer. Writing is where I make that visible. The Impact Leaders Initiative is where I put many of those observations into practice - through leadership development, mentorship and community for emerging leaders who are navigating questions of identity, belonging and influence.

I write because the young African women coming after me deserve better than the simplified versions often presented in international spaces. They deserve the full picture: the ambition, the negotiation, the discipline, the uncertainty, the compromises, and the ongoing work of belonging.

I am writing for the young African woman who is educated, capable and quietly exhausted by the invisible labour of belonging. The one who has mastered adaptation but rarely sees her own experience named with precision. I am writing against the system that permits young African women to be present only when they are grateful, resilient and unthreatening. I am writing against the diaspora story that flattens complex lives into stories of either achievement or adversity.

That is why I write. I write so that young African women can move through international spaces without having to diminish themselves to belong. I write so that their experiences are recognised not as anecdotes but as knowledge. And I write to ensure that the institutions they enter can no longer claim they did not know the compromises, adaptations and acts of self-erasure that belonging too often requires.

I was born in Uganda. My formative years unfolded in Ghana, first at a Ghanaian primary school, then at an international school where a hybrid British American accent began to take shape, and later at boarding school where conversations moved effortlessly between English, pidgin English and local languages. Adaptation became an early lesson in belonging. I learnt to navigate conversations I did not always fully understand and social cues that were not entirely my own. What I did not realise then was that I was learning the foundations of code-switching long before I knew the term. Those experiences continued throughout my international career. They were not disruptions. They were an education.

Then came the United Kingdom, and everything I understood about adaptation was quietly recalibrated. I noticed it first on the telephone when I made a call to a government office in London. I heard the tone on the other end, and something shifted in my voice before I was fully aware of it. The cadence changed. The vowels flattened. The traces of Uganda and Ghana that still surface in certain conversations receded, and a more recognisable British voice came forward. It happened in seconds, but it had been happening for years, at university and then in my professional life.

That is what code-switching sounds like from the inside. It is not dramatic, and not always deliberate. It is just a quiet recalibration. Code-switching is often framed as performance, as though one is concealing something true beneath something strategic. I have never found that explanation adequate. What I do when I move between environments is the result of years spent navigating different cultures and institutions, learning when to adapt, when to translate, and when to remain firmly myself.

I have been told by some Africans that I sound British. I have been told by non-Africans that I sound British but still pronounce certain words like an African. Neither observation is wrong.

What interests me is the assumption behind them: that one identity must somehow sit above the others. Age and experience have taught me otherwise. The different versions are not competing. They are simply part of the same story.

Uganda gave me an origin. Ghana gave me adaptability and an introduction to what a layered identity is. The UK and the world gave me professional rigour, institutional literacy and an accent that surprises people when they learn where I am from. And then I ring home.

A familiar voice answers. My speech softens. Expressions I have not used for months appear effortlessly. In those moments, I know that nothing was ever lost. Some parts of identity simply wait for the right conversation to reappear. These are not competing versions of myself. They are different registers of the same instrument.

Identity is not a place you arrive at. It is an ongoing negotiation between memory, belonging and adaptation. The work is not choosing which voice is most authentic but recognising that they all are.

Does my accent tell a story? Let’s talk.

Available for keynote speaking engagements on leadership, identity, diaspora experience and navigating global institutions through lived experience. Media Kit

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We often speak about international life through its visible outcomes. Careers built. Opportunities gained. Lives remade across borders. But ageing in the diaspora reveals something less visible and far more internal. It forces you to confront what migration has gradually edited out of you and what, despite everything, has remained.

Yet even after years of adaptation as one from the diaspora, certain parts of ourselves remain intact. Cultural memory reveals itself in small things. The way respect is expressed towards elders. The difficulty of addressing older people by first name, even when the culture around you expects it. The instinct to cook in quantity, because guests may arrive unannounced and must never leave hungry. These habits remain long after other things have shifted.

Language carries another kind of memory, and its loss is also an emotional one. Certain expressions from childhood cannot survive translation into English. Humour changes. The particular texture of a mother tongue, its capacity for precision and warmth, does not fully transfer. The loss appears small from the outside. Internally, it carries weight.

Then there is the additional layer of being observed losing yourself. The gentle and sometimes less gentle remarks from others that you have become somehow less African. That the in-between place you occupy is somehow incomplete. It is meant lightly but it does not always land lightly. Over time, though, I have come to know that living between cultures is not evidence of loss alone. It is also evidence of survival, adaptation and the ability to carry more than one world within yourself. Perhaps this is why many people become more reflective with age. Earlier in life, achievement matters greatly. Titles. Institutions. Recognition. Over time, attention shifts towards what remains meaningful enough to pass on.

In the diaspora, we become custodians of memory. We become carriers, moving through time with stories, habits and fragments of cultural continuity that were never fully ours to keep, only to pass forward. Younger generations inherit those fragments differently. They may not fully speak our languages or understand the social worlds that shaped us. What remains are pieces. A surname. A traditional name. A recipe. A traditional song. A dance. A way of greeting elders. A sense of responsibility that feels inherited. Sometimes younger people return parts of ourselves back to us. Through their questions and curiosity, they bring to the surface histories and values we had stopped speaking aloud.

Ageing in the diaspora has taught me that a layered identity is never fully resolved. You do not entirely leave home behind, nor do you fully remain the person who once left it. Perhaps that is the true diaspora within. Not the distance between countries, but the quiet distance between who we were, who we became, and what still remains unchanged beneath it all. Ageing in the diaspora is not simply the story of losing parts of yourself. It is also the story of learning how to live honestly with layered identities, inherited memories and multiple forms of belonging.

Over time, you realise that the in-between place you occupy is not incomplete after all. It is simply where several worlds meet. Africa Day reminds those of us in the diaspora that we are not only carrying memory. We are also part of what the continent continues to become.

Happy Africa Day 2026.

There has always been this quiet assumption that one day, after all these years away, I would return and do something meaningful for the people and the place I was born. I have often asked myself whether giving back should just be about money, or whether it could be something else.

Many in the diaspora send remittances home regularly, keeping households afloat, economies stronger, children in school and, in many countries, surpassing foreign aid. The list is endless and it shows that money matters enormously. But could giving back also be something less tangible, something shaped by distance and sharpened by experience that cannot be wired home through a bank transfer?

Leaving Uganda and building a career across continents taught me things I could not have learned any other way. With over three decades working with criminal justice officials in more than twenty countries, I learned how power operates inside government institutions, the unwritten rules of international organisations, how decisions really get made, how leadership is expressed differently across cultures, how to navigate spaces where African women were routinely underrepresented, and how to hold your ground with confidence in rooms where you are the only African woman at the table.

I learned to translate ideas into action across languages, legal systems and political contexts. These were not lessons from a classroom. They were earned across four continents, navigating volatile political and economic environments, leading diverse teams and managing multi-million-pound budgets. Those lessons cannot be packaged and sent home. The experience lives in the body and has been tested under pressure. The question I eventually had to sit with was what to do with all of this. I could have kept the knowledge and experience to myself, and many in the diaspora do. Instead, I chose to make it useful to someone else.

Now retired from direct institutional work, that choice is at the heart of my work with emerging leaders, mostly young women from Africa and in the diaspora. What I give back is perspective forged inside systems of power, policy and governance across continents. I help young women understand how to position themselves in global spaces, how to carry authority without apology, and how to lead with both confidence and integrity. I help them read the room in contexts not designed for them, and navigate multicultural environments without losing themselves.

This is what we underestimate when we talk about giving back. The conversation gravitates almost entirely toward money, and I do not dismiss the importance of that. However, lived experience should be seen as a form of capital too. It carries insight, judgement and perspective that cannot be acquired any other way. When shared with intention, it becomes something others can use to shape their own path in leadership and public life. That is a transfer of something generational.

For me, giving back is also about building a bridge between my layered identities: from where I was born, where I have been, where I am now, and where me and others are trying to go. It is about offering a way of seeing, thinking and practising leadership that is grounded, globally aware and rooted in responsibility to shape generations.

The remittance is real and it matters. So is this.

The diaspora carries something that cannot be quantified. If we are serious about what giving back means, we must make room for both - the remittances and the capital of lived experience.

Who are you without your career?

That question became the engine of everything I now do.

Born in Uganda, raised in Ghana, I came to the United Kingdom for university education and it is where I started my early professional career. I joined the London Metropolitan Police Service, and spent 15 years working at the intersection of race, crime, and justice. Amongst many cases I worked on, I was the Criminal Intelligence Analyst for a murder inquiry, a case that exposed the London Metropolitan Police as institutionally racist. Over two decades now, that work continues to shape me in ways I am still discovering. From London, I moved into the United Nations system, working on projects across Africa, Asia, Latin America, and Europe. I led projects on human trafficking and child abuse, coordinated criminal justice training programmes, managed diverse teams in Austria, Ethiopia, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam, Thailand, and beyond.

And then I quit.

I speak about these words by Nelson Mandela - “Quitting Is Leading, Too” - as the truth that I have lived. Leadership was not about staying the longest or climbing to the most senior level. Sometimes the most courageous act of leadership is the decision to redirect, to trust yourself enough to step off the path the world laid out for you and onto the one that was always, quietly, yours.

That is the heart of what I do, write and speak about now.

Information on my online platform is grounded in over three decades of global experience. It is a conversation, warm and honest, rooted in the belief that we must do the inner work before we can do the work that matters in the world. What you will find on the platform draws from three intertwined threads:

• The Mentorship Programme, which is a flagship initiative for emerging leaders, with emotional intelligence at its core. Testimonials from past mentees bring itthe programme to life.

• My Leadership Reflections and stories of impact are a series that draw on my lived experience and cultural identity, exploring courage, collaboration, and cultural humility. African roots are woven through many of the stories.

A common thread through all of this is the question of justice, race and inclusion, because you cannot talk about leadership without talking about who has historically been excluded from it. For anyone standing at the edge of something, wondering whether to stay or leave, I have been there. Pull up a chair. Join the conversation. There is a seat at my table.

She remembered some interesting things about me - the morning energy I brought into the office in Addis Ababa; the positive way in which I spoke about the power that Africans hold to drive change across the continent; the small, deliberate insistence on paying attention to details including taking visuals seriously as tools for storytellin. She remembered being treated as an equal despite being an intern with no prior experience working for the United Nations, and how that made her feel genuinely valued.

Nardos Girma Wolde gave as much as she received. I had watched her from the beginning with quiet admiration. Her intelligence was evident, but it was her curiosity that truly stood out. She immersed herself in every task with diligence and grace, asking questions without hesitation, embracing challenges without complaint. When the team entrusted her with translating the Mandela Rules into Amharic for training and supporting major criminal justice events, she brought a professionalism that felt far beyond her years.

Reading her reflections about me and her time as an intern, I realised she had absorbed not just the lessons of her internship, but the spirit behind them. Nardos ended her message with a generous suggestion to me: that I continue inspiring young African women, share more of my leadership journey, and perhaps one day build a structured platform to support the next generation of leaders. It is a suggestion I held closely and worked on and which has now emerged as the Mindset-to-Output Mentorship Programme.

I want to say something she did not ask for, because it deserves to be said. The intern shapes the mentor just as profoundly as the mentor shapes the intern. Nardos’s willingness to grow, to show up fully, to bring her whole self into rooms that were still unfamiliar to her, reminded me why this work matters so deeply. As the African proverb goes, “However long the night, the dawn will break.” Sometimes, the dawn arrives in the form of a young woman who is quietly, courageously becoming herself, and taking you along with her.

Nardos is a lawyer from Ethiopia with a Master’s degree in Human Rights from Addis Ababa University. She is a Leadership and Advocacy for Women in Africa (LAWA) Fellow currently pursuing an LLM in Technology Law and Policy at Georgetown Law in Washington, DC.

Nardos is deeply committed to contributing to Ethiopia’s rapidly evolving technology law and policy landscape. Her passion lies in the intersection of technology and human rights, critical at this time when AI is reshaping governance, rights, and public life. Nardos aspires to play a meaningful leadership role in this space and help ensure that Ethiopia’s digital future is grounded in rights, equity, and accountability. Nardos previously worked at the National Election Board of Ethiopia and was an intern at UNODC Ethiopia.

What the midpoint check-in reveals now is a group of people who have had an aha moment and are beginning to see themselves differently. They are now reckoning, sometimes uncomfortably, with the gap between thinking and doing. This cohort is learning to close the distance and finally believing that the movement to their goal is a continuous process and theirs to make with the right guidance.

Beyond that, cohort connections are forming too, tentatively but genuinely, through virtual and in-person exchanges, shared reflections, and introductions to contacts beyond the group. The learning is therefore not only happening in the ‘mentee-mentor’ room. Halfway through, the picture emerging is one of people moving from knowing their value to showing the outputs they will have by the end of mentorship. That is the mindset to output shift of this programme. That journey is happening and I am holding the space for it.

These seven emerging leaders arrived with real capability and the programme has simply created the conditions for them to recognise it themselves and begin to act on it. That, to me, is what good mentorship shares with good leadership. Sometimes, you don’t need to build people from scratch. You just need to remove what is standing in their way.

Happy World Labour Day. 1 May 2026

From the outset, his style was intentional. He did not feel the need to manage every detail. Instead, he created space and encouraged me to step forward, take initiative, and trust my own judgement. When I made decisions, they were supported by his steady presence and insight. He was always available but never imposed himself. That autonomy, extended with genuine confidence, changed how I showed up. Leadership began to feel less like a role I was performing and more like a responsibility I was genuinely carrying.

The international context we operated in required diplomacy, cultural sensitivity, and restraint. What I observed in him went beyond professional competence. In complex, politically sensitive situations, he led with humility and deep listening. He ensured that local voices, particularly those of criminal justice officials we were there to support, remained central and not peripheral. He understood that being heard is not a courtesy. It is a condition for meaningful work. Watching him navigate those environments showed me that leadership can be both inclusive and decisive, and that empathy and rigour are not in tension.

There was also discipline in how my thinking was developed. Quick answers were rare. Instead, he asked questions that pushed me beyond surface-level responses, questions that required reflection, connection, and foresight. The discomfort was deliberate and purposeful.

It strengthened my ability to anticipate challenges, hold multiple perspectives, and engage stakeholders with greater intention and care. In meetings, my voice was consistently welcomed. Over time, that experience of being genuinely heard, rather than managed or redirected, built something durable. I became more strategic in my thinking, more considered in how I engaged others, and more attuned to the difference between occupying space and contributing to it. His example reshaped my understanding of what empathetic leadership actually looks like in practice: steady, measured, and grounded in real respect.

The most enduring lesson is this. Leadership is about service, trust, and the courage to believe in people before they fully believe in themselves. How you lead matters as much as what you deliver. When a leader demonstrates belief in your potential through the space they create rather than the control they retain, it changes not just how you perform. It changes how you see yourself and what you consider possible.

Today, I carry that forward. I extend the same trust and space to others that was once extended to me, not as a technique, but as a practice rooted in genuine regard for the people I work with. Trust, when practised intentionally, does more than empower performance. It develops leaders. It moves people from waiting for direction to taking responsibility, from self-doubt to self-trust, from following to leading. It is not simply a quality of good leadership. It is a discipline and its effects are lasting.

As Erin Meyer says, “Trust is like insurance. It is an investment you make up front before the need arises.” The best leaders I have known understood this instinctively. They did not wait for trust to be earned through time alone. They chose to extend it early, and in doing so, they built something that no structure or title ever could.

At the mindset level, Margaret modelled a form of leadership I had rarely seen. Through empathetic listening, steady encouragement, and unwavering belief, she reinforced a truth that resonated with my being: leadership does not require aggression or dominance. It can be exercised through influence, service, and clarity.

I carefully observed her lead at national, regional, and global level. I asked her why she took certain decisions and learned her strategic approaches towards broader goals and impact.

She engaged my “what if” questions, reviewed my documents and presentations, and helped me understand organizational culture. She consistently brought me back to purpose and goals. Just as importantly, she affirmed my capability after each performance, reinforcing confidence that was built through action.

As my understanding grew, she entrusted me with more visible roles, such as leading national initiatives myself. Was I really ready? Self-doubt surfaced, as it often does. Margaret did not take over. She listened to my concerns. She stayed present. She guided me and assured me that I would do well.

Over time, this created something steady within me — an inner knowing that empathetic leadership could be exercised, even within imperfect systems.

At the process level, our mentorship deepened through shared work on culturally and organizationally complex challenges. Through long, honest conversations grounded in trust, we explored cultural competence not as theory, but as lived practice. We asked questions openly, learned as outsiders without defensiveness, and stayed curious.

The outcomes of Margaret’s steadfast guidance were tangible. I became more self-aware, particularly recognising my tendency to rush relentlessly through work. By observing the impact of empathetic listening, I learned to pause and set work aside to support colleagues in need. Professionally, I developed the courage to make bold decisions, including relocating to unfamiliar environments to deepen my understanding of the organisation. Strategically, I learned to balance technical expertise with humanity — never losing sight of the people behind the systems.

The most lasting impact, however, was philosophical. I learned that leadership is not about perfection, but responsibility to the people we serve and support. Margaret reminded me that organizations may replace roles quickly, but people remember how they were treated. So, protecting one’s humanity is not optional — it is essential.

Today, I appreciatively carry these life lessons forward. I mentor others, open doors, and advocate for those with competence and potential who are often overlooked.

This is the essence of the Mindset-to-Output Mentorship Programme. It develops leaders who think clearly, act intentionally, and deliver results — without losing themselves in the process.

I was born into a generation that wrote letters by hand, sent job applications by post, and built professional relationships slowly, face to face — long before digital platforms shaped how we are seen. It was a professional world without digital infrastructure — where visibility depended on proximity, being known within institutions rather than digital profiles or public self-expression. The emerging leaders I mentor have grown up with the internet as infrastructure — and yet, paradoxically, many approach professional visibility with a level of caution and discomfort that is striking for a generation so digitally fluent.

These are generations highly fluent in digital tools and social platforms. Yet when asked to build a presence on platforms like LinkedIn, the quiet resistance is immediate and genuine. Some find it exposing, others call it “cringe”, some are uneasy about sharing their age, surname, or being publicly associated with their work. These responses are not trivial, as they reflect a shift in how identity, risk, and visibility are understood.

Gen Z and Millennials are navigating a digital environment shaped by permanence, algorithmic exposure, online harassment, and reputational risk at scale. Their caution is not reluctance without cause; it is informed behaviour.

From my experience, many young professionals experience a real disconnect between personal identity and professional identity constructed in public view. To them, the idea of presenting a curated professional self can feel performative — even inauthentic. At the same time, the labour market has evolved faster than this mindset.

Recruiters increasingly rely on digital presence as a first point of contact — with platforms like LinkedIn reporting that the majority of hiring managers use online profiles in candidate evaluation. Digital absence can therefore be interpreted — fairly or not — as a lack of readiness or engagement.

This is where the tension lies.

My role is not to override that concern. It is to reframe it. Professional visibility should not be viewed as performance, but as presence. In a digital and competitive labour market, presence is often the entry point to opportunity. It allows one’s work, thinking, and direction to be understood before you are in the room.

Platforms like Substack, LinkedIn and Instagram, when used with intention, can function as professional infrastructure. A profile, a portfolio, a piece of writing should not be viewed as acts of vanity. They are signals, and they communicate experience, clarity, capability, and trajectory.

What I encourage emerging leaders to understand is this: visibility does not require self-exposure without boundaries. It requires intentionality — and you decide what to share, how to frame it, and where to draw the line. The challenge, then, is not generational difference alone. It is alignment — between capability, identity, and visibility.

My responsibility as a Mentor is not to tell emerging leaders how things were done. It is to help them navigate how things are — without losing who they are. This is because professional visibility, on their own terms, is not a compromise of personal identity. It is a strategic extension of it. As a Gen X mentor, this has required growth on my part. It has challenged my assumptions about visibility and professionalism, and pushed me to understand a generation navigating a fundamentally different reality. Mentorship, in this context, is not one-directional — it becomes an exchange.

At its core, the Mindset-to-Output Mentorship Programme is designed to build alignment.

Moumi Awudu carries a phrase with her everywhere: “mindset to output.” She first heard it from her mentor, Margaret Akullo, and it has quietly reshaped how she moves through the world. “Whenever things feel uncertain or overwhelming, I remind myself that the mindset I bring into a situation will influence what I’m able to create from it,” she says.

The two women met at a pivotal moment. Moumi had just launched a project she had been building for six months, and doubt was beginning to creep in. “I never intended to give up completely, but I did start questioning whether it should become much smaller than I originally planned,” she recalls. What steadied her was Margaret’s ability to see the vision clearly even when Moumi could not. “She encouraged me to think bigger.” The guidance was practical — sometimes as simple as “Just reach out to this person” — but always impactful.

Beyond the project, Moumi was wrestling imposter syndrome and the guilt of asserting boundaries in leadership. Margaret’s affirmation changed that. “She is incredibly down to earth, and what stands out most is how sincerely she takes people’s ideas seriously. When she supports something, it feels real.” That has inspired Moumi to show up the same way for other women — to open doors, encourage boldly, and take their visions seriously.

Margaret Akullo has spent over three decades working across Africa, Europe, Asia, and Latin America, strengthening justice systems with global institutions including the United Nations. But her reason for mentoring is personal. “I know how powerful it is when someone recognises your potential before you fully see it yourself,” she says. “I navigated spaces where African women were routinely underrepresented — those experiences were formative.” Through her Mindset-to-Output Mentorship Programme, she has seen what becomes possible when women are given the tools to lead. “Lived experience only becomes meaningful when shared,” she says, “and that is where my purpose lives.”

For Margaret, the exchange has always been mutual. “Each mentee brings perspectives that challenge me to keep evolving — they mentor me too,” she reflects. “The gain is generational. The discipline and courage are entirely theirs — I simply helped them see what was already there.”

A surprise nomination that said everything

What Margaret did not know — until the announcement was made — was that Moumi had quietly submitted her nomination for the Leading Ladies Africa feature, which had received applications from across Africa. From a competitive pool of nominations, Margaret and Moumi were selected alongside others for the International Women’s Day 2026 feature. It was a gift given in silence — a quiet act that perfectly embodied the values their mentorship had been built upon.

“What an incredible honour to be part of this powerful feature alongside such remarkable women. To every mentor and mentee featured — your stories are a testament to the transformative power of women investing in one another. I am deeply inspired by each of you.

Moumi, I am deeply moved and truly honoured by your kind and surprise nomination. What you may not fully realise is that you have given me just as much as I have given you. Your dedication, your courage in pushing through doubt, and the boldness with which you stepped into your own leadership have been a source of inspiration for me too. Watching you grow from a moment of uncertainty into the confident, visionary leader you are today is the very ‘gain’ I speak about in my Mindset-to-Output Programme. I am so proud of you — not just for what you have built, but for who you have become. Thank you for trusting me, for showing up with openness, and for now doing the same for other women. That ripple effect is everything. Thank you, dear Moumi.” — Margaret Akullo

This story was originally featured in “What Women Gain by Giving to Women: Five Stories of Mentorship and Legacy” — a special feature by Leading Ladies Africa in commemoration of International Women’s Day 2026.

At 22, I had just completed my degree and was searching for my first role in International Relations. I knew this was the field I cared about—particularly International Relations and Human Rights—but after repeated job rejections, my confidence began to weaken. I started questioning whether I was truly competitive, whether I was articulating myself well enough, and whether I was ready.

I joined the Mindset-to-Output Mentorship Programme because I needed guidance. More specifically, I needed to strengthen my confidence in communication and learn how to navigate the challenges of job hunting in a more structured way.

Mindset

The first shift happened internally. Through the mentorship, I began to recognise my skills as strengths rather than things to minimise or overlook. Instead of focusing on what I lacked, I learned to identify the value of my academic training, my cross-cultural background, and my genuine commitment to International Relations and Human Rights.

The repeated rejections had dimmed my passion. Working through my mindset helped me reconnect with why I chose this field in the first place. I rebuilt my self-confidence and started to see myself as someone with potential—not someone falling short.

Process

From there, the work became practical. I explored how to articulate my experience more effectively, how to structure my applications with clarity, and how to present myself confidently in interviews. I learned to communicate my ideas in a way that was focused and professional, rather than apologetic or uncertain. Instead of approaching applications with anxiety, I began approaching them with strategy.

Output

The shift did not happen overnight. It happened session by session, draft by draft, until one day I realised I was no longer the same person who had first shown up uncertain and diminished by rejection. With strengthened confidence and a clear approach, I secured my first professional role. The job itself was important—but what mattered just as much was how I arrived there. I was no longer applying from a place of insecurity. I was applying with clarity, intention, and a structured plan.

The Result

I regained clarity about who I am professionally and reinforced my identity as someone committed to international affairs and human rights. I developed practical communication skills that I will carry into every future opportunity.

The Mindset-to-Output Mentorship programme empowered me to turn my insecurity into confidence and uncertainty into a tangible career milestone. It gave me a foundation—not just for my first role, but for my long-term growth. My conversations with Margaret not only boosted my confidence in my career progression but also my passion for the academic side of things. I am now clear about what Master’s degree courses I am looking into and plan to take in the near future.

Through my mentorship with Margaret, that shift became clear. Margaret challenged me to examine how I was showing up — not only in what I delivered, but in how I brought others along. She modelled a form of leadership that was both strategic and grounded, and she consistently reinforced the importance of coordination, shared ownership, and clarity of purpose.

The principle I internalised most deeply was simple: replace “I” with “We.”

In later years, this became central when I moved on to lead a team of 10 professionals across seven countries in Latin America. I was responsible for project delivery, but I also focussed equally on cohesion. Instead of positioning myself at the centre, I prioritised unity and belonging. I ensured that each team member understood not only their task, but the shared purpose behind it. The result was not only successful programme implementation, but a culture rooted in solidarity and trust.

In mentoring me, Margaret always emphasised the importance of preparation beyond logistics. Planning, she would say, is not simply about timelines or workplans. It is about building team capacity, aligning on key messages, and ensuring a unified voice grounded in human rights principles.

With that guidance, I became more deliberate with my team. I paid closer attention to how we communicated, how we engaged local contexts, and how we honoured the diversity within our team. By recognising and leveraging those differences, I ensured our projects remained ethically grounded and culturally sensitive.

The impact was tangible. We executed complex initiatives across multiple countries with clarity and coherence. More importantly, the team felt connected and purposeful. Margaret’s mentorship ensured that I became more intentional in my leadership. More strategic in planning. More empathetic in execution. More anchored in values. I learned that collaboration is a discipline and that leading with purpose requires preparation, humility, and coordination.

Margaret’s mentorship reinforced that leadership is both strategic and human — and that when “We” replaces “I,” impact becomes stronger and more sustainable.

At the start of our first cohort meeting, I asked them a simple question: in one to three words, where are you right now in your career or life? Their answers were immediate and honest.

Early stage. Season of planting. Building. Positioning. Pivoting. Developing.

In those few words, an entire room told the truth about where they were — not where they hoped to be, not where they felt they should be, but where they actually were. That honesty told me everything I needed to know about who I was working with. When I read their applications for mentorship and met each of them in our first conversations, I found the same thread running through every single one. They were all more capable than they believed themselves to be.

Across every application and every answer to the question of what they are good at and what they can offer the world, I saw people who had the evidence of their own capability but had not yet fully claimed it. I recognise this pattern because it is not unique to this cohort. It is one of the most consistent things I encounter in emerging leaders, particularly those navigating career transitions, and those who are, for the first time, trying to make themselves recognised in a world that has not always valued what they bring.

The Mindset-to-Output Mentorship Programme is not a coaching series or a personal development course. It is a structured, deliverable-focused engagement that begins with a goal and ends with something finished — a portfolio, a presentation, a proposal, a personal statement, a strategy document, a research abstract, a professional identity that is ready for the world. The internal work — the mindset, the clarity, the confidence — happens through the act of producing something real. Not through talking about it but through doing it.

What moves me most about this particular cohort is the diversity of thought and purpose they carry. One is building a research voice that advocates for victims within criminal justice systems. Another is translating a decade of humanitarian data work into a portfolio that speaks to a new market. One is committed to creating platforms and visibility for African creatives who have been systematically overlooked. There is a creative communications professional who turns complex ideas into stories that resonate and is now seeking to build a platform that reflects her talent. Another is a bank clerk with ambitions to move into international relations and human rights. One is learning how to find their footing within corporate environments while building the strategic confidence to navigate them on their own terms. And there is an undergraduate student of politics and international relations who delivered a speech on climate change at sixteen and is only now beginning to appreciate the reach of her voice.

Some are meeting for the first time but they share something that matters more than geography or field of work or career stage. They share the willingness to show up, do the work, and be intellectually honest about where they are. In my experience, that combination — willingness, work ethic, and honesty — is more valuable than almost any technical skill.

The first cohort of the Mindset-to-Output Mentorship Programme has begun. Seven people. Five countries. One thread. By the end of their mentorship, each of them will have something finished in their hands - the output. Something they built. Something that proves the gap between intention and output is not as wide as it once felt. Whether you are in an early stage, a season of planting, building, positioning, pivoting or developing — the work begins where you are, and for this cohort, it has already begun.

I am Lujam Okello, Ugandan-British. I was 16 when I was appointed Head Girl at my school of 1,000 girls. Whilst it was a major achievement, my conversation with my mentor Ms. Margaret took on a deeper meaning. She told me it was more than a school title — it was preparation for stepping into visibility and learning to use my voice.

Soon after my appointment as Head Girl, I delivered a speech on COP26 for the Rt Hon. the Lord Deben, Chairman of the UK’s independent Climate Change Committee. When Ms. Margaret told me how proud she felt seeing me, a Ugandan-British schoolgirl speak confidently on such an important issue, I began to understand the reach of my voice. Leadership was no longer about holding the Head Girl title. It became about responsibility — and about inspiring others, especially those from underrepresented communities. Through Ms. Margaret’s mentorship, I begun to gain confidence and perspective.

I am now an undergraduate student studying Politics and International Relations. This degree has given me a language for the things I have always felt deeply - global cooperation; how governments make decisions; why some communities are heard and others are not. These are not abstract concepts to me but rather, they are questions I carry personally, as someone who sits at the intersection of two cultures and has had to learn, from a young age, how to navigate spaces that were not always designed with someone like me in mind.

I will be honest. There have been moments in my journey where I have doubted whether my voice belongs in certain rooms. Moments where I have qualified my own knowledge before I have even been questioned. Where I have said “I am still developing” so many times that it became a habit rather than a truth. Ms. Margaret helped me see that pattern clearly — and helped me understand that humility and confidence are not opposites. You can be at the beginning of something and still have something worth saying.

I am building something — a career, a voice, a body of knowledge — and I know that every leader was once exactly where I am now. My ambitions are clear, even if the path is still unfolding. I want to work in policy and public service. I want to contribute to the kinds of decisions and institutions that shape how societies function and how people are protected or failed by the systems meant to serve them. Eventually, I want to pursue postgraduate study — a PhD — that allows me to contribute not just as a practitioner but as a scholar. I want to be someone who does not only respond to the world’s challenges but helps to define how we understand them.

I think about the young girls in schools right now who are watching to see whether someone who shares their background can step into these spaces with confidence and belong there. I want to be evidence that they can. Ms. Margaret’s mentorship has been part of shaping that understanding.

As an undergraduate student, I am at the beginning but I no longer experience that as a limitation. I experience it as a position of possibility. I am part of the next generation of women leaders not waiting in the wings. We are already here, finding our footing, building our voices, and learning — as I did at 16, standing in front of a school of a thousand girls. That visibility was foundational and it is something I use, purposefully, and in service of something larger than me. That is the lesson I carry. That is the leader I am becoming.

That question surfaced during a focused conversation with Margaret about career satisfaction — and the possibility of early retirement. It was not framed as an exit from work, but as a discussion about long-term ownership: of time, energy, financial independence, and sustained impact.

That conversation marked a shift in my mindset. I began to challenge assumptions I had long taken for granted: that success meant constant upward movement, that fulfilment would arrive later, and that stepping beyond conventional paths was risky. Instead, I strengthened my understanding of success as alignment, long-term intentionality, and strategic value creation — not external validation.

Rather than offering prescriptive advice, the mentorship created space for high-level reflection. I examined what genuinely mattered to me: how I wanted to lead, what kind of work energised me, and what I wanted my future to feel like — not just look like. That reframing did not reduce my ambition; it sharpened it. It reinforced that my career should deliver measurable impact while remaining sustainable and well-positioned for the long term.

The shift continued at a practical level. Reflection moved into deliberate, strategic choice. I did not abandon ambition; I refined it. Success became less about speed or title and more about sustainability, autonomy, influence, and scale. I strengthened my confidence in my own judgement, trusting that intentional decisions — made early — would shape a powerful professional trajectory.

The outcome was both practical and personal. I emerged with sharper clarity and a stronger sense of direction. I felt empowered to define success on my own terms and equipped with a strategic framework to plan accordingly. Rather than feeling confined by conventional expectations, I could see clear, viable pathways that balance professional growth, leadership impact, and long-term optionality.

Perhaps most importantly, I reinforced my role as the author of my career. What once felt like uncertainty became opportunity. I now operate with a clear decision-making framework that honours both my ambition and my values — and strengthens the impact I aim to deliver.

This is what the Mindset-to-Output Mentorship Programme made possible for me.

It supported deep reflection, intentional strategy, and values-led action. It helped me move beyond inherited definitions of success and strengthen a career that truly fits — not by reducing ambition, but by aligning it with long-term leadership, value creation, and choice.

Start with reflection. Move with intention. Build a career that serves your life — and creates impact at scale.

What Doinita needed was not advice, but clarity.

Through her mentorship with Margaret, the work began with deliberate reflection. Rather than being told what to do, Doinita was guided through thoughtful questioning that helped her reconnect with what she was genuinely good at, what energised her, and where her strengths were being underused. One of the most important realisations was confronting the fact that she had outgrown her role, and that staying without reflection was keeping her stuck in frustration.

At the mindset level, the shift was profound. Doinita learned to step back from constant urgency and exhaustion, to listen to her own voice, and to trust her internal compass. Confidence followed—not as bravado, but as grounded self-belief. She began to understand that as her skills and experience grew, her career path needed to grow with them.

At the process level, reflection translated into action. With Margaret’s guidance, Doinita reframed how she approached opportunities. She moved beyond relying solely on online applications and began engaging more intentionally through networking, in-person conversations, and direct outreach. She attended events, connected with people working in fields she was curious about, and allowed herself to explore without pressure. Importantly, she learned that progress is not always immediate—it is built through consistency, clarity, and disciplined follow-through.

The outputs were tangible. Doinita successfully negotiated a salary increase and over several months, she completed more than twenty interviews, strengthening her confidence, communication, and professional presence. Alongside this, she began testing work aligned with her natural talents—hosting events, enrolling in acting classes, and creating space for creativity while remaining grounded and intentional.

The most meaningful deliverable, however, went deeper than any single outcome.

With clarity and confidence, Doinita made the bold decision to step away from a role that no longer aligned with who she was becoming. Choosing alignment over inertia created space for purpose-driven work and renewed energy. The constant pressure of the rat race gave way to intention, self-trust, and direction.

Doinita moved from noise to clarity. From staying stuck to moving forward—deliberately.

The Mindset-to-Output Mentorship Programme supports emerging leaders to pause, reflect, and act with intention. Through structured guidance, honest reflection, and disciplined execution, mentees build clarity, confidence, and real-world outcomes that are earned—not imagined.

Video credit: Moon Ting Li

Leadership does not begin with a title. It begins with what you decide to build from your experience.

Before you understand a leader, you must understand the child.

More than fifty years ago, I was a little girl in Uganda living through conflict. Soldiers patrolled the streets. Executions were broadcast on television. Schools were closed. There was no water, no electricity, no certainty. At night, my siblings and I would hide in a dark corridor or under the bed when we heard gunfire. We were told to be quiet — not as guidance, but as protection.

In that darkness, I asked myself three questions:

Who knows we are here? Who will hear us? Who will rescue us?

Those questions shaped me more than I realised at the time.

Even then, something quiet was forming. Not strength in the heroic sense. Something steadier. A refusal to accept fear as normal. A belief that life could be better than survival.

In 1976, our family moved to Ghana. For the first time in years, I slept without listening for gunfire. Peace felt unfamiliar, but it also felt possible. I did not yet have the language of leadership, but I carried a vision. I wanted to help shape a world that was safer for children.

That vision guided me from Uganda to Ghana, then to the UK, and eventually to the global stage with the United Nations, working across four continents. I believed in the organisations I served because they spoke directly to the child who once lay awake in the dark, wondering who would hear her. Yet the hardest challenges in my professional life were not operational. They were institutional. Invisible barriers. Closed networks. Expectations of conformity.

As a woman in the diaspora, I often felt the tension of navigating systems that did not always recognise the value of lived experience.

Over time, I came to see that lived experience is not something to minimise. It is an asset. It sharpens judgement. It deepens empathy. It strengthens cultural intelligence. For women in the diaspora especially, our layered identities equip us to lead across difference with insight and credibility.

At 55, I chose early retirement from the United Nations. It was not simply a career decision; it was an identity shift. Walking away from a title and institutional authority was confronting. Without the structure of an organisation behind me, I had to ask: who am I now? In that uncertainty, I found clarity.

That decision became the foundation of my Mindset-to-Output Mentorship programme — leadership shaped from the inside out. After decades working within bureaucratic systems, I realised that sustainable leadership does not begin with position. It begins with internal alignment. Clarity of values. Emotional discipline. The courage to act with discernment.

The theme of EmpowerHer2026, ‘From Resilience to Renaissance’ that took place in Vienna, Austria, resonated deeply with me. I shared that resilience kept me alive. It helped me navigate complexity and endure pressure. But renaissance required something more. It required choice. Resilience is survival. Renaissance is creation. Renaissance is choosing what you become after the storm. It is knowing when to stay and contribute, and when to step away with integrity. It is understanding that leadership is not about endurance alone, but about impact.

Through my mentorship, I have watched young women — and some men — move from hesitation to action. I have seen doubt turn into decision. The transformation is rarely dramatic. It is built through small, deliberate choices made consistently. Leadership shaped from the inside out begins with a single question:

Who are you choosing to become?

As Carl Jung wrote, “I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become.” For me, that has meant this:

I am not what happened to me. I am what I chose to build from my lived experience.

That choice remains ours — at every stage of life.

Video credit: Moon Ting Li

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Margaret Akullo
EmpowerHer 2026, Women Powerhouse Hour
Palais Wenkheim, Webster University
Vienna, Austria
27 February 2026