Strength Looks Like the Women I Grew Up With
Next year I’ll be heading to New York University. New city, new people, new ideas. I’ll study business in a place that moves fast and rewards confidence. But when I think about leadership, ambition, and strength, I don’t picture Wall Street or a lecture hall.
I picture my mom at the kitchen table with three phones open, solving problems before most people have had coffee.
I picture my sister refusing to back down from anything she sets her mind to.
I picture my grandmothers, who built lives out of very little and somehow made it look steady and graceful.
And I picture a long list of aunts who never asked for permission to succeed.
For me, women in business isn’t some new social movement. It’s normal. It’s how I grew up.
My mom is the clearest example. I’ve watched her handle pressure with a calm that doesn’t make headlines but wins long games. She balances family, work, and everything in between without announcing it to the world. She negotiates. She plans. She anticipates. She protects. She leads.
What stands out most isn’t just that she works hard. It’s that she works smart. She doesn’t waste energy on noise. She focuses on outcomes. When something goes wrong, she doesn’t panic. She adjusts. She figures it out.
That’s leadership.
As a kid, I didn’t realize how unusual that level of strength was. I just thought, “This is what moms do.” Now that I’m older, I understand how much discipline and resilience it takes to carry that much responsibility and still show up for everyone around you.
My sister represents a different kind of strength. She’s part of a generation that expects to compete and win. She doesn’t question whether she belongs in ambitious spaces. She assumes she does.
Watching her grow up has been like watching confidence take shape in real time. She’s direct. She’s sharp. She doesn’t apologize for wanting more. And she doesn’t accept limits that don’t make sense.
There’s something powerful about seeing that up close. It resets your expectations. When your sister approaches the world that way, you don’t grow up thinking leadership belongs to one gender. You grow up thinking leadership belongs to whoever earns it.
Then there are my grandmothers.
Their strength is quieter but deeper. They came from different times, different rules, fewer opportunities. They didn’t always get recognition. They didn’t always get the spotlight. But they built stability. They held families together. They made sacrifices without turning them into stories.
One of them taught me that consistency beats talent. The other taught me that dignity matters even when no one is watching.
They may not have had titles or corner offices, but they understood value. They understood discipline. They understood what it means to create something that lasts.
In many ways, they were entrepreneurs before that word was trendy. They managed households like businesses. They budgeted with precision. They made decisions with long-term consequences in mind. They built equity in ways that didn’t always show up on paper but showed up in generations.
And then there are my aunts.
Each of them carved out her own path. Some built careers. Some started businesses. Some led teams. Some managed homes with the same complexity as a company. What they all share is independence.
They didn’t wait to be told they were capable. They acted like they were.
Growing up around that many strong women changes your baseline. You don’t see ambition in women as aggressive or unusual. You see it as practical. Necessary. Normal.
That’s why the conversation about women in business sometimes feels strange to me. The idea that it’s groundbreaking still surprises me. In my world, it’s expected.
The women I’ve watched don’t frame their success as rebellion. They frame it as responsibility. They work because they want to contribute. They lead because they’re capable. They build because they see opportunity.
It feels natural.
As I head to NYU, I know I’ll meet people who talk about gender dynamics in business, glass ceilings, representation, and leadership gaps. Those conversations matter. But my perspective will always start at home.
Strength is not loud in my family. It’s steady.
It’s the discipline to wake up early and finish what you started. It’s the courage to make hard decisions. It’s the confidence to sit at any table and know you belong there. It’s the humility to keep learning.
The women in my life didn’t just influence me. They shaped how I define success.
Success isn’t dominance. It’s impact.
Success isn’t attention. It’s stability.
Success isn’t proving someone wrong. It’s building something right.
When I walk into my first business class next fall, I won’t be thinking about abstract role models. I’ll be thinking about my mom handling a crisis without blinking. My sister refusing to shrink. My grandmothers building legacies quietly. My aunts moving forward without hesitation.
That’s my blueprint.
If women in business feels like the future, it’s because in my life, it’s always been the present.
And I wouldn’t want to grow up any other way.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alex Neonakis is a high school student who loves business, history, basketball, and butter chicken. He’s passionate about entrepreneurship, exploring different cultures, and finding the best food spots with his friends.











