I want to tell you about a moment I've thought about many times over the years.

I was ten years old, sitting in a classroom in Germany.

I was halfway through year four. The year that determined which secondary school you could apply to, a decision that would shape the next decade of your education, and in many ways, the trajectory of your life.

There were four types of schools to choose from. The Gymnasium was the best. The most academically rigorous. The one that led to the Abitur, the German equivalent of A-levels, and from there, to university.

Another girl in my class and I had identical grades. Exactly the same number of A's. The same number of B's and C's. On paper, we were equal.

Our teacher recommended she go to the Gymnasium.

I was recommended the Realschule. The second tier.

The reason my teacher gave? My parents were immigrants. She worried I might not have the support structure to thrive in the most demanding environment. She didn't want me to be overwhelmed. She didn't want me to fail.

She meant well. I believe that.

But what she was really saying was: the circumstances you were born into matter more than what you've already proven you can do.

I did go to the Realschule. And I did well. After year ten, I was the only student in my class who moved to the Gymnasium to complete my Abitur. I thrived there too.

And then I moved to London. Got my degree. Broke into Goldman Sachs.

I never stopped. That drive, the one that said there is more, and you are capable of it, never left me.

But I've thought a lot about the students who were given the same guidance I was, and didn't push back. Who followed the recommendation without questioning it. Who never moved schools. Who never made it to university.

They definitely didn’t lack the ability.

But someone with authority had quietly told them, through a report card recommendation, through a single piece of guidance, that they probably weren't quite ready for the bigger stage.

And they believed it.

I think about this often now.

Because I see it play out, with remarkable consistency, in the corporate world.

Research on the career progression of BAME professionals in the UK (professionals from Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic background; a term we don’t use anymore) has shown a persistent pattern: slower advancement, lower ceilings, and a disproportionate underrepresentation in senior leadership. This despite the fact that, as I see constantly through my work, professionals from immigrant and ethnic minority backgrounds are often among the most qualified people in the room. Multiple degrees. Additional certifications. Years of going further than the role required, because that was the only way in.

The qualifications get them through the door.

But once inside, something changes.

The sponsorship that opens the next door isn't always there. The mentor who sees your potential and puts you in front of the right people, not always available. The structured support that a select few receive, the guidance that says "I see something in you, let me help you develop it", that tends to flow to certain people, and not others.

It isn't always conscious. It isn't always malicious.

But it is real.

I keep coming back to an image that I find both painful and clarifying.

Imagine two athletes in a 100 metre race.

One has access to the best coach, the best nutritionist, the best medical team, the best equipment. Their training has been optimised. Their development has been supported at every stage.

The other is equally gifted. Equally determined. But they have had to find their own way to the starting line, often running harder just to stay in the same place.

Now tell me, who is more likely to win?

It’s not just talent.

It’s the infrastructure built around that talent.

This is what I've come to understand, both through my own journey and through the work I do with clients:

Potential is rarely the limiting factor.

What limits people is the absence of the right environment, the right guidance, and the right belief, from someone whose opinion they trust, that they are capable of more.

I was lucky.

I had parents who believed in me even when my teacher didn't. I had a drive that wouldn't let me settle. I sought out mentors and conversations and opportunities, not always because they were offered to me, but because I knew I had to go and find them.

But that shouldn't be the exception.

And it shouldn't require exceptional determination to access what should be ordinary.

This is the work I do.

Not only helping people identify what they want and build a path towards it, though that is part of it. But specifically helping those who may not have had the sponsorship, the mentorship, the early guidance, or the someone who looked at them and said: I see what you're capable of.

Because that moment, the moment when someone finally sees what you've always quietly known about yourself, is often the one that changes everything.

You don't have to wait for someone else to give you that moment.

You can start creating the conditions for it.

If you've ever felt like you've been running the race with less than you deserve, without the right support, without the right guidance, without someone in your corner who truly sees you, this is exactly the conversation I would love to have with you.

My inbox is open.

Wishing you a wonderful weekend. Stay well, stay true.

Sindy

If this resonated, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

You can connect with me on LinkedIn here, or learn more about my work here.

​
​