One of them embodied a version of leadership I had spent my whole life pushing against; a leadership that prized status, hierarchy, and predictability over possibility.
Even though I had earned my seat at that table, something in that dynamic pulled me inward. I became more guarded. More self-conscious. More aware of where I came from than of the strengths that brought me there.
Then they asked me a simple question, an easy one. A question I could answer any day of the week.
And my mind froze.
Completely blank.
What I now know was a dissociative freeze, an amygdala hijack, the moment when the emotional brain overwhelms the thinking brain and shuts everything down.
I offered one sentence.
Then silence.
A silence that probably lasted ten seconds, but felt like ten minutes.
I could feel the weight of the room.
I could feel old stories rising, stories that told me I didn’t belong, stories shaped by childhood trauma, scarcity, and the pressure to prove myself in rooms that weren’t built for people who grew up like me.
Part of me wanted to walk off that stage.
But I stayed.
I grounded myself.
And slowly, I returned and finished strong.
In a 90-minute panel, it was a brief moment. But I replayed it for years. And it wasn’t the content that haunted me, it was the feeling. The judgment. The misalignment. The old fear whispering, “You’re not supposed to be here.”
I’ve had moments like that since, mid-speech, mid-panel, mid-conversation, even mid-interruption. For a long time, I told myself, “I don’t like panels.”
But that wasn’t true.
It wasn’t about the panel.
It was about the pressure.
It was about the internal story that was still being healed.
If I hadn’t pushed through moments like that, they would have capped my leadership. They would have kept me in the safe zone, where comfort wins and calling loses.
That moment became a line in the sand, a reminder that leadership begins in the places where fear tries to silence you.
Freezing isn’t weakness.
It isn’t lack of preparation.
It isn’t evidence that you don’t belong.
Freezing is your body trying to protect you from a threat that may no longer exist, but still feels real.
The danger isn’t the freeze itself.
The danger is letting the freeze define your boundaries.
Reframe: That moment wasn’t failure, it was feedback. It revealed where fear still had a voice.
Reclaim: Staying on that stage, grounding myself, and returning, that was leadership.
Rename: It stopped being “the moment I froze” and became “the moment I returned.”