The Cult of Constant Improvement and the Courage to Shine Anyway

The Cult of Constant Improvement and the Courage to Shine Anyway

There’s something interesting that happens when you cross the 15K mark on LinkedIn: the inbound messages multiply overnight. Many of them are from women.

I’ve always been fascinated by the kind of parasocial relationships we form online, and now, I’m part of them. It actually feels like a serious responsibility. Because when I read through these messages, a concerning pattern keeps showing up, one that says a lot about how women are taught to see themselves.

Women reach out to me all the time. Brilliant, capable, wildly competent women.
And yet almost every message starts the same way:

“Emerald, what else can I learn?”

“Do you recommend another certification?”

“I feel like I should up-skill before I go for that role.”

It’s never “I’m ready.” It’s always “I’m not there yet.”

Across industries and roles, I keep noticing the same three patterns.

The first is what I call the improvement loop;  the sense that no matter how much women achieve, it’s never enough. There’s always another course, another certification, another rung on the ladder.

The second is more specific to my field: the generalisation trap. So many women trying to pivot into AI governance already have deep expertise, in audit, SOX, compliance, risk etc. Yet, instead of building on that foundation and adding an AI lens, they’re starting from scratch, trying to become generalists. I think it’s a well-intentioned mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.

And the third pattern is the most personal: the dulling of shine. Every time a woman starts to gain real visibility, there’s a subtle (or not-so-subtle) effort to pull her back down. I’ve experienced it myself, and it can escalate into real professional sabotage if we don’t name it. That sabotage can be both external and internal. We can control the latter and ignore the former. 

So that’s what this piece is about: the quiet forces that keep women from stepping fully into their power, and the practical ways we can push through them.

The Endless Ladder That Leads Nowhere

There’s a peculiar cultural loop many women live in: the cult of constant improvement.
We collect qualifications like safety nets, convinced that one more will finally silence the feeling of not-enough.

To be clear, I’m not judging anyone. I’ve fallen into this trap myself more than once.

A little-known story: a few years ago, I was accepted into Berkeley for an LL.M. The plan was to move to the U.S. and qualify as an attorney there. I couldn’t quite make up my mind, so I paid the $1,000 fee to hold my place, just in case.

Not long after, I was promoted and added Global Head of AI Governance to my existing privacy leadership role. It became obvious that I couldn’t build a new function from the ground up and pursue another degree. Especially when this would have been my third Master’s.

At that point I had to laugh at myself, and calm down. Naturally, I was buzzing to lead in this new space. Imposter syndrome was clashing with the reality that I had, in fact, been doing the work for a significant amount of time. 

But that feeling never really goes away, because the goalposts are rarely defined.
When “there” doesn’t exist, you can’t ever arrive.

The irony is that many of the women I speak to are already leaders in their fields. They’re not lacking knowledge: they’re lacking permission to claim completion.

At some stage, we have to decide when enough is enough. What are our metrics? What does “ready” look like? And once we’ve met those markers, we need to stop rehearsing and step fully into the new role, title, or space.

Otherwise, we’re just moving the finish line on ourselves and calling it progress.

Learning vs. Proving

There’s nothing wrong with curiosity. Growth is essential. But somewhere along the way, professional development morphed into a form of self-doubt.

Men often treat credentials as validation of what they already know. Women, on the other hand, treat them as justification for being allowed in the room.

I remember when I was promoted to my first Chief Privacy Officer role. In that moment, I felt I had to prove I deserved it.

My manager at the time said something I’ll never forget:

“The reason you have the role is because you already proved you can do it. Now it’s up to you to prove you can do your next role.”

That subtle distinction keeps so many of us on the wrong side of the table, qualified to advise, but hesitant to lead.

Governance and Glitter

When people tell me they find my content energising; that they love seeing someone talk about mascara and AI governance in the same feed, what they’re really responding to is integration.

People judge us by how we show up. So why should we ignore the pieces that get us there? There’s zero chance you’ll ever see me show up to work without concealer and mascara.

Should I pretend that I find Article 30 of the GDPR equally thrilling, just to keep up appearances? (See what I did there?)

I don’t believe in the phrase “you can’t be what you can’t see.” If that were true, none of us could ever do something entirely new. But I do believe it helps not to feel alone.

No matter what job you’re in, your work touches humans in some way. And humans are complex, multidimensional beings with interests far beyond our job titles. So let’s own our whole selves. That doesn’t mean we should bring our entire selves to work. Professionalism still matters, it’s structure, not suppression. But we don’t need to flatten everything else to fit in. The balance is where real presence lives: polished and human at the same time.

What people are really seeing when they follow me is a woman who refuses to be reduced.
I’m not trying to please an algorithm; I’m speaking to actual human beings. I’m sure it irks some people, but there’s an unfollow button for that. 

“Niche” culture tells you to simplify: to flatten your edges into something searchable.
But authority doesn’t come from shrinking yourself; it comes from coherence.

When your ideas, interests, and aesthetics are aligned, you stop sounding scattered and start sounding sovereign.

The Sparkle-Dulling Machine

Of course, the moment you integrate instead of conform, someone will try to dull your sparkle. They’ll call it arrogance, self-promotion, narcissism or distraction.

Sometimes they’ll say it kindly:

“You’re doing a lot.”

Or worse:

“Where do you find the time?”

Sure, Jan, as if my life is so empty I just stumbled into all this “frivolous” work you couldn’t possibly find time for.

There’s a word for it, actually: discipline.

And there’s often a generational layer to it. Some people genuinely don’t understand that for Millennials and Gen Z, building a personal brand isn’t vanity — it’s survival. We need something that’s ours: our own vantage point, our own voice.

The whole “Who do you think you are?” is easy to answer.

“Emerald de Leeuw-Goggin.”
For you, it’s your own name.

So no, don’t dim. Don’t apologise for being visible, ambitious, or multidimensional. Just carry on strategically, respectfully, gracefully and relentlessly.

Because the truth is, your success will attract resistance. The number of naysayers in your orbit is a metric: a sign that your visibility is working.

The goal isn’t to have everyone like you.

The goal is to have built enough momentum that the friction no longer matters, because you’re already moving too fast to stop.

The Quiet Luxury of Enough

There is a quiet luxury in deciding you’re enough,  right now, as you are. Enough to apply. Enough to speak. Enough to take up the space you already earned.

When you operate from that place, your energy changes. You’re no longer asking for permission; you’re issuing invitations.

That’s when your sparkle stops threatening people  and starts lighting the way for others.

Happy Sunday,

Emerald