The Ask That Opened Doors—And Opened Me

We’ve all heard the saying it takes a village to raise a child. Over time, I have learned something equally true: it also takes a village to raise a leader. None of us becomes who we are in isolation. We grow because others choose to guide us, challenge us, and—when we need it most—see a version of us that we’re not yet brave enough to see in ourselves.

In January 2022, I took a step that felt both bold and terrifying. I reached out to a leader I deeply respected and asked if he would consider mentoring me. He said yes immediately and invited me to breakfast. I still remember sitting across from him, hopeful yet exposed—because asking for help is its own act of courage. Especially for women like me, who are often expected to carry strength without ever showing strain.

At the time, my career felt complicated and, at moments, heavy. As a Pakistani Canadian woman working as an expat in the UAE—where leadership rooms are still predominantly male—I often felt like I was navigating an unfamiliar path without a map. I needed guidance, yes. But I also needed someone who could hold up a mirror and reflect the strength, capability, and potential I hadn’t yet fully owned.

My mentor never handed me answers. Instead, he offered me something far more valuable: space.  Space to think, to question, to unravel old patterns and rewrite deeply rooted narratives.  He asked the kind of questions that didn’t just make me reflect—they made me rise.

Every three months, over a simple breakfast, I would spill the weight I was carrying. And every time, without fail, he would stretch my perspective just enough for light to get in.Challenges that once felt immovable began to shift. Problems that once consumed me suddenly revealed solutions I hadn’t been able to see. Situations that used to trigger anxiety transformed into invitations to practice calm, clarity, courage—and sometimes even grace.

I remember our conversations about team dynamics, influence, and what it truly means to lead from a place of strength and integrity. Some of his suggestions were deceptively simple, like the “two-minute drop-ins” that opened doors and built trust. Others were profound—quiet but seismic shifts in how I saw myself, my role, and the impact I could create.

He didn’t change my circumstances.He changed me.

And that changed everything.

Slowly, something shifted.Not just in my leadership—but in me.

I began showing up differently.More anchored. More intentional. More myself.

My colleagues noticed before I did.They told me I seemed calmer, more balanced, less reactive. One woman told me she admired the person I was becoming and hoped to embody that same intentionality in her own life. That moment stays with me. It reminded me that when we rise, we quietly give others permission to rise too.  When we change, we change things around us also.

That was the moment something shifted in me. I felt an undeniable pull to give back—not out of obligation, but out of gratitude. So, I reached out to a young Emirati colleague and offered to mentor him. What I didn’t expect was how rewarding it would feel. It was as if a beautiful circle had finally closed: I had been poured into, and now it was my turn to pour into someone else. In supporting him, I found parts of myself I had forgotten. I was reminded of a truth so simple yet so powerful: sometimes all a person needs is one person who sees them—really sees them—the diamond beneath the dust, the brilliance waiting for permission to shine.

For years, I boxed myself into a rigid idea of what leadership was supposed to look like. I told myself stories about how I should act, speak, showup or feel. But mentorship cracked that box open. It taught me to lead as the woman I truly am—not the version I thought the world demanded. Between our sessions, I found myself reflecting more deeply, taking braver steps: starting honest conversations with my leaders, asking for feedback even when it made everyone a little uncomfortable, and trusting the quiet signals that I was growing.

And I was.

Over the last four years, I’ve come to realize something tender and humbling: what others can see so clearly in us often takes us much longer to recognize in ourselves. We move through life with blind spots we don’t even know we’re carrying. And that’s why we all need someone who can gently hold space for our becoming—someone who listens without judgment, who guides without pushing, who lifts us with kindness and helps us ease into the best version of who we’re meant to be.

What surprised me the most was how mentorship didn’t just shape me as a leader—it reshaped me as a human being. It softened the edges I didn’t know had hardened. I became more patient, less reactive, less judgmental… more open, more curious, more compassionate. Even my children noticed. I never imagined that leadership growth would spill so beautifully into my personal life, but it did. And I still feel grateful for that unexpected grace.

For years, I thought I understood leadership. But stepping into senior management revealed a deeper truth: the higher you rise, the more essential it becomes to have a sounding board. Someone who helps you refine not only what you do, but how you show up. Someone who holds you accountable to the leader you say you want to be. Someone who reminds you of your presence, your impact, and your alignment with your own values.

If you don’t have a mentor, look around—there is someone who would be honoured to walk alongside you. All you need to do is ask. And if you are a leader, reach out to someone who may never find the courage to approach you first. Sometimes the conversations we avoid are the very ones that transform us the most.  I remain deeply grateful to my mentor, and to every leader who challenged me into my potential. And here is what I now know with absolute clarity: growth doesn’t end when you reach a milestone. That’s where it starts again. So, as I step into this new chapter, I carry humility, curiosity, and the quiet confidence that I am still becoming—still learning, still unfolding.

We never stop growing. We never stop evolving. And perhaps the greatest gift of all is realizing that who we are becoming is shaped, in part, by those who choose to walk beside us.

The Ask

“When you let someone pour into you, you learn how to pour into others.”