For Margaret Akullo, those questions have followed her across four continents, from childhood in Uganda (East Africa) and Ghana (West Africa) to leadership roles in international criminal justice, and now into a new chapter centred on mentoring the next generation.

Readers familiar with her writing or public talks will recognise some of the stories. The little girl waving an OAU flag with pride. The African in the diaspora repeatedly asked whether she was “really” Ugandan because she did not fit people’s expectations. The African who boldly retired early from the UN. These stories have become part of her public narrative because they illustrate ideas that continue to shape her work: identity, belonging and the confidence to recognise one’s own value.

Yet the FAB L’Style magazine interview reveals something deeper than the familiar anecdotes.

Behind the polished public profile is a life marked by experiences that could not have been planned into a leadership story. As a child growing up during periods of political instability in Uganda, she remembers soldiers, fear and uncertainty. She recalls having a gun pointed at her as a young girl and taking cover in a car as armed soldiers walked nearby. These are not motivational moments. They are memories that explain why justice, safety and human dignity became lifelong commitments rather than professional interests.

Those commitments eventually led to more than three decades working across policing, criminal justice reform and international development, including twelve years with the United Nations. Her work addressed some of the world’s most difficult challenges, from human trafficking and organised crime to child protection and criminal justice reform.

But experience also brought uncomfortable questions.

The interview reflects candidly on her growing sense that large institutions often struggle to deliver the inclusive, locally driven change they aspire to create. She speaks carefully rather than critically, acknowledging the realities of donor priorities, bureaucracy and the complexity of international systems without reducing them to simple villains. It is less an attack on institutions than an explanation of why she eventually chose a different path.

Aged 55, leaving the United Nations in 2022 was not a retirement from purpose. It was a decision to work differently.

Today, through her Impact Leaders Initiative, Margaret Akullo mentors small cohorts of emerging professionals, helping them move from uncertainty to action. While she uses established leadership frameworks such as Ikigai and her own Mindset to Output approach, the real value of her work lies elsewhere. It comes from lived experience across countries and cultures, decades of leadership roles and an understanding that professional success begins with clarity about identity, hence her ethos ‘shaping leadership from the inside out’.

The interview makes one thing clear. Margaret Akullo’s greatest asset is not a framework or a methodology. It is perspective earned through years of difficult decisions, cross-cultural leadership and service in places where the stakes were often measured in people’s lives rather than organisational performance.

That perspective now shapes a quieter form of leadership. Instead of managing large international programmes, she invests deeply in a handful of people at a time. Instead of measuring impact through budgets or projects, she measures it through confidence rebuilt, careers redirected and leaders who learn to recognise the value they already possess.

It is a different definition of influence, but perhaps a more enduring one - her quiet yet impactful portfolio of influence.

To discover the full conversation, including her reflections on identity, leadership, international development and life after the United Nations, read the complete magazine interview at https://fablstyle.com/margaret-akullo-africa-future-leadership/

When I first shared my mentorship journey, I was learning to see myself as a future leader rather than simply a student preparing for one day. That shift laid the foundation. The next stage was learning to trust my own voice.

Over six more sessions in the Impact Leaders Mentorship Programme with Ms. Margaret, I realised that the biggest change was not what I produced. It was how I began presenting what I already knew.

One of the strongest outputs from this phase was a position paper examining why the role of United Nations Secretary-General has never been held by a woman, using feminist perspectives to explore the relationship between gender, power, and leadership in global institutions. Alongside that, I developed reflective diary entries from my semester abroad in Austria, refined my elevator pitch, and wrote a professional area-of-interest statement.

What emerged through the guidance of Ms. Margaret surprised me. My writing became more analytical, more personal, and more intentional. For the first time, I looked at my work and saw something that felt publishable rather than simply assessable. These were no longer practice pieces. They felt like the beginning of my professional voice.

The most significant change, however, happened in how I thought about myself. During the early sessions, I noticed a habit I had never questioned. Almost every time I spoke, I softened my ideas before expressing them. I would say, “I’m still developing,” or, “I’m not sure, but...” as though I needed permission before offering an opinion. As the mentorship progressed, I began catching myself before reaching for those disclaimers. Being early in my career is simply a stage of professional development and I finally appreciated that it is not evidence that my ideas are less valuable.

One moment shifted something permanently. While working on my elevator pitch, Ms. Margaret pointed out that I had written my results almost entirely in the conditional tense. Instead of stating what my work contributed, I wrote that it could contribute or might support broader conversations. She asked me a simple question: “What happens if you state your contribution as fact?” That single piece of feedback changed how I write. Replacing conditional language with clear, declarative statements felt like a small editorial change but it was not. It fundamentally changed how I understood my own voice.

The Ikigai framework became much more than an exercise in self-reflection. Rather than focusing on abstract purpose, it helped identify where my language, positioning, and outputs were misaligned with the work I was actually producing. Every session built on that insight, responding to real work rather than following a fixed agenda.

Looking ahead, I have a clear goal. Before the end of 2026, I want to submit my position paper on female representation in the UN Secretary-General role to at least two professional publications. More importantly, I want to develop the habit of writing with publication in mind rather than writing only for assessment. This mentorship helped me understand the difference.

A student writes to complete an assignment. A professional writes to contribute to a field. That shift has changed how I introduce myself, how I write, and how I think about what comes next.

About the author

Ms. Lujam Okello is a Politics and International Relations student in the UK, with a strong passion for leadership, gender equality, and global affairs. Her academic interests include global governance, public policy, and women’s representation in leadership. Through research, writing, and mentorship, she is building the knowledge and skills to contribute to evidence-based policymaking and drive meaningful social impact as a future leader.

When I joined the Impact Leaders Mentorship Programme, I expected to leave with every deliverable completed. That did not happen, but I left with something I had not expected: a stronger sense of direction.

Looking back, I would still describe the experience as one that exceeded my expectations because it changed something deeper than my to-do list. It changed how I think, how I adapt, and how I see what is possible.

Previous commitments had an influence on conclusions of planned outputs within the mentorship program, Honestly, I initially saw that as falling short. Over time, the mentorship taught me that not every meaningful outcome can be measured by what is finished. Some projects are inherently long-term, and mine certainly are. Rather than rushing to complete outputs for the sake of completion, I now recognise that this period gave me the opportunity to refine my thinking, strengthen my focus, and approach my ambitions with greater intention.

Perhaps the biggest change was not in what I produced but in my pace. I slowed down, and that slower pace created space for reflection. Madam Margaret believed in something I had not yet fully recognised in myself. She consistently encouraged me to embrace my gift for storytelling and challenged me to think seriously about building something of my own. At the time, I was not entirely convinced. However, her confidence in me became the catalyst for deeper questions about the life I want to build and the impact I hope to have.

One of the tools that helped unlock those conversations was Madam Margaret’s Ikigai assessment of me. It encouraged me to reflect on my personal and professional direction and gave language to thoughts I now articulate better. Rather than feeling like a series of mentoring sessions, each conversation felt genuine, thoughtful, and human.

I also appreciated the flexibility throughout the programme. My work required frequent travel, and Madam Margaret’s willingness to accommodate my changing schedule meant I could continue participating even during demanding periods.

Looking ahead, I know where I want to focus. I want to invest more intentionally in my personal and professional brand, strengthening my LinkedIn presence, and telling more stories of the impact of the work I have done throughout my professional journey. Somewhere during this journey, I realised that storytelling is not simply something I enjoy. It may well be one of my greatest gifts.

The work ahead is unfinished but continuous, and I am comfortable with that. What I am taking forward is not a completed checklist. It is the confidence to continue building, the patience to trust the process, and the courage to follow the direction I am creating.

By the end of six sessions, I realised I had been asking the wrong question. The real question was not, “What have I finished?" but "What impact will my work have long after I am no longer in the room?”. That shift changed everything.

At the start of the mentorship programme, I focused on building a portfolio that would meet industry standards. It is still a work in progress, but the process has brought clarity. It has shown me the technical skills I still need to develop while reminding me that the non-technical skills I have built over time are just as valuable. Alongside refining my portfolio, I also began strengthening my LinkedIn profile and thinking more intentionally about how I present myself professionally.

What I expected from the programme was quite different from what I received. I imagined sessions on stress management, emotional resilience and stoicism. Instead, I was challenged by Madam Margaret to focus on strategic foundations I had not considered. Looking back, those foundations proved far more relevant to where I am today and aligned more closely with my long-term ambitions.

The biggest transformation happened internally. Before the programme, I measured progress by completed tasks. I was always thinking about the next milestone to tick off. Today, I think differently. I have become more interested in the sustained impact of my work than the satisfaction of simply completing it. I now ask whether my projects continue creating value even when I am not present. That single shift has influenced how I think about my career, the choices I make, and the kind of professional I want to become.

Confidence has also been part of this journey. I entered the programme during a season of transition, unsure of what it would take to become a leader in my field. I often underestimated my achievements and compared myself with an imagined standard of excellence. Those doubts have not disappeared completely, but they no longer define me. I have begun recognising that I have already accomplished far more than I allow myself to acknowledge. Leadership no longer feels distant. It feels like something I can intentionally grow into.

One conversation with Madam Margaret stands out above the rest. We spoke about projects not simply as technical accomplishments but as stories of impact. That discussion helped me realise that doing good work is only part of the equation. Equally important is being able to communicate why it matters. It also changed how I viewed my professional narrative. My online presence, my portfolio, and my ability to communicate my value through a clear elevator pitch are not superficial exercises. They are often the bridge between good work and new opportunities.

The Ikigai framework played an important role in that reflection. It helped me connect my skills, purpose, and aspirations, even though translating those insights into a clear career direction remains a work in progress. Looking ahead, my priorities are clear. I want to strengthen my professional image, expand my network across industries, build a personal website, and develop a portfolio that reflects both my technical expertise and the impact behind my work. Most importantly, I want to tell my story with greater confidence and clarity.

This mentorship did not simply change what I was working on. It changed why I was working on it.

About the author

Mr. Kingsley Koomson is a business operations and strategy professional based in Germany with seven years’ experience across logistics, FMCG, Manufacturing, HealthTech and Energy Tech industries. He specialises in process improvement, end-to-end business development, partnerships, conflict mitigation, growth to market strategy and project management. and is completing a double master’s degree in analytics, risk management, and economics.

I joined the Impact Leaders Mentorship Programme expecting advice. Instead, I found something closer to a mirror, one that reflected patterns I had never paused to examine. I assumed that partaking in the mentorship would mean being told what to do and how to do it with limited real engagement, but it was the opposite. From the very first session, Ms. Akullo was deeply invested and offered each mentee feedback tailored to their own journey. Given how diverse we were, that level of individual attention made the experience far more valuable than I expected.

There were six sessions - my turning point came in the third. I began to recognise how some of the cultural norms I had grown up with had shaped my career path in ways I didn’t notice.

During my session with Ms. Akullo, she identified that my discomfort with highlighting my own accomplishments was perhaps shaped by the way I had been raised as a Nigerian woman, where humility is valued. She pointed out that I was inadvertently putting myself at a strategic disadvantage in the job market.

That observation explained why I felt uneasy posting achievements on social media, why drawing attention to myself online felt wrong, and why selling myself in interviews never came naturally. Once I could separate my cultural understanding of humility from the simple act of acknowledging what I had actually accomplished, something shifted. Owning my skills no longer felt like self-promotion but an honest reflection of the work I had already done. This mindset shift has changed how I now show up professionally as I understand that career advancement requires visibility, and visibility begins with a willingness to be seen. I have become more willing to take risks that I would have previously avoided, apply for opportunities that I would once have dismissed, and put myself forward with greater confidence.

A Positioning and Branding Masterclass, organised by Ms. Akullo for mentees and delivered by Brand Architect Ms. , helped me understand the difference between having value and communicating it effectively. It challenged me to think more intentionally about my professional identity and digital presence. For example, instead of avoiding LinkedIn because it felt uncomfortable, I began asking how I could use it to reflect my experience and aspirations more authentically.

Ms. Akullo’s network allowed me gain access to job platforms, volunteer opportunities and conversations that would otherwise have been difficult to reach. Having a mentor with such varied connections has broadened my sense of what is possible in my career. My approach to job searching has changed as I now apply with far more confidence and treat rejection as information about fit rather than a judgement on my ability.

I concluded the mentorship with a clearer understanding of the obstacles that had held my career back and with practical tools to address them. I wish the programme had lasted longer, but perhaps that was the point — it gave me the strategic foundation, and the execution is now mine to follow through on. Like Chinua Achebe wrote in Things Fall Apart: “The lizard that jumped from the high Iroko to the ground said he would praise himself if no one else did.” For me, it’s a reminder that even when your achievements go unnoticed by others, it is okay to acknowledge them yourself. That is the lesson I will carry with me long after this mentorship has ended.

About the author

Ms. Adedolapo Akingbade is a communications professional with four years’ experience in content creation, digital media, and programme support. She has worked across the public, private, and international sectors and currently serves as a Communications Intern in the Department of Technical Cooperation at the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) in Vienna, where she translates complex nuclear science topics into accessible narratives for diverse audiences.

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When I joined the Impact Leaders Mentorship Programme, I was navigating a professional transition from South Africa to Europe. After building a regional risk intelligence system at the United Nations Refugee Agency UNHCR (formerly Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees) in the South African region, I am now preparing to enter the German market. Like many people in a similar position, I assumed my biggest challenge would be translating my experience into language that employers would understand.

That was not the case.

The mentorship programme exceeded my expectations because it exposed a mindset I had not realised was shaping every professional decision I was making. During our sessions, I developed a comprehensive risk analytics portfolio built around the regional risk intelligence system I had created at UNHCR. Alongside that, I refined my positioning statement, updated my CV and rebuilt my LinkedIn profile.

The final outputs looked different from what I had imagined at the start of the mentorship programme. Initially, I wanted to showcase everything I had done across multiple projects.

As the mentorship work progressed, I realised that credibility is often built through depth rather than breadth. Instead of trying to prove I could do many things, I focused on demonstrating one substantial piece of work well. That shift produced a much stronger portfolio, and one far better suited to the market I will be entering.

The most significant transformation, however, had nothing to do with documents. It happened during Ms. Akullo’s analysis of my Ikigai exercise. I had described being willing to take on any task as I moved into a new market. I had always interpreted those choices as evidence of a strong work ethic. However, Ms. Akullo observed that I was lowering my own professional standing by making those choices, even before anyone else had the chance to question it.

That observation gave me pause to think.

I had entered the programme with all the ingredients for a strong professional identity but no clear way of holding them together. More critically, I had been underselling my experience, not because the evidence demanded it, but because uncertainty about the future had quietly shaped how I talked about the past.

That single insight reframed the entire programme for me. I stopped explaining myself and started demonstrating what I had already built. I now approach my own professional record the same way I once approached data at UNHCR. I ask what the evidence actually supports. That shift, from explaining myself to demonstrating myself, has altered how I think about every application, every conversation and every opportunity.

The Ikigai framework gave language to a disconnect I had sensed but never articulated: the gap between the professional I had become and how I was presenting myself to others. That clarity changed the foundation everything else was built on.

The structured self-review process reinforced the same lesson. Rather than treating my CV as a marketing document, I learned to read it as a sceptical hiring manager would. Where was the evidence? Which claims lacked proof? What questions would someone ask before believing my experience? Those questions made every revision sharper and more credible.

Ms. Akullo’s approach made those conversations productive. She was willing to name uncomfortable truths directly while remaining genuinely supportive throughout the process. That balance matters. Honest feedback only lands when it is grounded in trust, and that trust was present from the beginning.

I leave this mentorship programme with something more valuable than a finished portfolio. I leave with clarity. I now understand that confidence is about presenting the evidence clearly and allowing it to speak for itself. For me, that has been the most valuable lesson of all.

The work is not complete. My portfolio will continue to evolve, my applications still need to be tested and my next chapter is only beginning.

About the author

Mr. Siya Mazibuko is a Risk and Data Analyst specialising in enterprise risk management, data analytics, and organisational strategy. With over 11 years of international experience, he helps organisations transform complex data into actionable insights that strengthen decision-making. He is certified in Python, SQL, Power BI, Tableau, and Advanced Operational Risk Management (PRMIA).

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For years, I carried a label that felt both accurate and limiting. Emerging scholar. It implied potential, yes, but it also implied incompleteness, as though the work I had already done, the students I had taught, the research I had published, the leadership roles I had taken on, including community engagement, were all prologue to something that had not yet arrived.

I am a criminologist, researcher, and lecturer at the University of KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa. My work sits at the intersection of police culture, offender rehabilitation, victimology, criminal justice reform, and broader questions of crime and justice in the African context. On paper, I had accumulated a credible body of work and yet in practice, I was still waiting for permission to fully claim it.

That is what brought me to the Impact Leaders Mentorship Programme. I joined for six one-to-one sessions with the programme’s director, Ms. Margaret Akullo. I came in with two concrete goals: submit an abstract to the European Society of Criminology (Eurocrim 2026) conference and complete a professional positioning statement. Both were achieved. The Eurocrim abstract was accepted and the positioning statement, which I submitted as a rough draft, was refined through Ms. Margaret’s feedback into something that honestly reflects my current role and aspirations. By any measure, those were the outputs.

But the outputs were not the point.

The moment that changed something was a conversation about the Eurocrim 2026 conference. My initial assumption, stated plainly and without much reflection, was that if my abstract were accepted I would present my academic paper virtually. Online felt obvious, manageable and safe. Ms. Margaret challenged that directly and pointed out that presenting in person would do something a video call never could: it would put my African criminology research in a European room for my first time, in person, outside Africa. I sat with that observation for a long time after the session ended and eventually decided to attend the conference in person.

What I came to understand through the mentorship programme was that my professional self-perception had not kept pace with my professional reality. The Ikigai exercise that Ms. Margaret used early in our sessions made this visible in a way that was uncomfortable and necessary. It revealed that I had not fully claimed my professional identity, not because the identity was not there, but because I had not stopped long enough to acknowledge it.

The programme also revealed something I had underestimated: visibility - the deliberate, honest documentation of one’s work and presence in their field. LinkedIn came up repeatedly in our discussions, and I understood the argument intellectually.

Professionals who are active, who share their thinking and engage with others, create opportunities that people who work quietly and wait to be found do not. My plan is to fully act on this.

Beyond the sessions themselves, Ms. Margaret consistently sent information about international calls for papers, scholarships, and grants relevant to my work. That kind of active, ongoing investment in someone else’s growth is not a given, and I did not take it for granted.

There are things I want to do differently in the coming months - more visible engagement with the wider scholarly community; a deliberate pursuit of opportunities outside my immediate comfort zone; and a rebalancing of how I distribute my professional attention, by moving towards a fuller engagement with research, writing, and the broader criminology field.

But the shift that mattered most was quieter than any of those actions. I stopped thinking of myself as someone who was emerging as a criminologist. I started thinking of myself as one. The work was always there. What changed was my willingness to stand behind it. Sometimes growth is not about becoming someone new. Sometimes it is about finally recognising the professional you have already become.

About the Author

Dr. Vuyelwa Kemiso Maweni is a criminologist, researcher, and lecturer in Criminology and Forensic Studies at the University of KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa. Her research focuses on police culture, human trafficking, corrections, and gender-based violence in the African context. She has supervised Honours and Master’s students to completion, co-published with several of them, and serves as Newsletter Editor for the Criminological Society of Africa. She is currently preparing to present her research at the 26th Annual Conference of the European Society of Criminology taking place in Warsaw, Poland, in September 2026.

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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 framework. 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.