The Girl in the Mirror

Growing up, I avoided mirrors. Each glance was a painful reminder of how different I looked from everyone around me—my almond-shaped eyes, brown skin, and dark hair standing in stark contrast to the sea of blonde-haired, blue-eyed classmates. The mirror didn't show me who I wanted to be; it showed me the reason I was bullied, the reason I felt like an outsider, the reason I didn't belong. 

I still remember the sting of tears I held back in elementary school when classmates pulled their eyes into slants and repeated racial slurs. I remember desperately wishing I could trade my reflection for something—someone—else. Anything to stop standing out, to stop being the target, to just belong. 

Growing up adopted from Korea at age three and a half, I carried questions that had no answers. Who was I? Where did I truly belong? In Florida, where I spent most of my childhood, I was a rare Asian face - alone in my difference. 

The Night Everything Changed 

I was about nine or ten, sitting cross-legged on the carpet waiting for Murder She Wrote or The Cosby Show to begin. That's when I saw her—a woman with jet-black hair like mine, almond-shaped eyes like mine, and brown skin like mine. But unlike me, she wasn't shrinking. She wasn't hiding. She was commanding the room. 

Connie Chung sat perfectly poised, asking hard questions with unwavering confidence. I was transfixed. For the first time in my young life, I saw a reflection of myself that wasn't broken or wrong or something to fix—it was powerful. 

It was as if, in that moment, the mirrors that had tormented me were suddenly showing a different possibility. Maybe the problem wasn't my face. Maybe it was that I hadn't yet seen what that face could become. 

The questions that had always swirled in my mind suddenly had direction. Perhaps it was fitting that a child with so many questions would dream of becoming someone who asks questions professionally. Eight years later, on a small island in the Pacific, that childhood dream became reality as I started my first job in media. 

Guided by Giants 

I was fortunate that my first newsroom boss was Sabrina Salas Matanane, now a Guam Senator. She saw something in me beyond my inexperience, taking me under her wing and showing me how to "take chicken sh*t and turn it into chicken soup." Her unflinching resilience taught me that obstacles weren't roadblocks but opportunities for creativity. 

As my career progressed, I found other women who would shape my journey. Kim Anderson Young, a business leader who saw potential in me that I couldn't yet recognize. Sophia Catha, whom I fondly call my "fairy godmother," offered guidance that went beyond career advice. Then there was Marissa Eusebio Borja, a brilliant marketing professional balancing her career with raising five children showing me it was possible to have a thriving career and be a loving, present mother. 

These women—diverse in their approaches and experiences—created a constellation of guidance that lit my way forward. 

Jumping Without a Net 

Throughout my career, I've faced moments where I had to choose between safety and growth. One of the most significant came when I was offered the chance to manage a failing media company. The naysayers were quick: "You're just a journalist with some marketing experience. You've never run a company." 

They weren't wrong. I had no experience running a company. What I did have was determination and a willingness to do whatever it took. 

I treated it like a startup, pouring every ounce of energy into its revival. There wasn't a task I wouldn't take on—drafting budgets, writing news stories, selling ads, handling production inventory, staffing news, voicing radio scripts, posting stories online. 

Something deep inside me wanted to show what was possible when you put the right team in place—hardworking, talented, driven professionals who come together to inform and educate the community in a fair and balanced way. When I left, the company had grown from twenty-four to over sixty-two people, was profitable, and had become a trusted resource for news and information in the region, especially during COVID. 

Another pivotal moment came when I was hired by a Thai-based luxury resort to manage all marketing and communications. Two weeks after starting, I needed to organize a job fair to hire 450 people for the opening staff. If I had listened to the naysayers or my own self-doubt—after all, I had no experience in the hotel industry, we wouldn't have had such a successful event that brought over 1,500 people together in less than two weeks. 

Each of these experiences taught me that my value wasn't in already knowing how to do everything, but in my willingness to figure it out, to work harder than anyone expected, and to believe in possibilities others couldn't yet see. 

Finding My Roots, Finding Myself 

It took years for me to fully embrace my identity as a Korean American woman. During my time as a television news reporter, I shot a documentary series called "Finding My Roots" that later won an Edward R. Murrow award. The series followed my journey to find my biological mother and my travels to Korea to meet her. 

That trip marked the beginning of a lifelong journey toward accepting my "Korean-ness" and learning to love who I was born to be. Standing on Korean soil, looking into faces that resembled mine, I began to understand that the features that had once made me a target were my birthright -a connection to a rich heritage and resilient people. 

The Weight of Never Feeling Enough 

But success doesn't automatically heal old wounds. Throughout my career, I carried the weight of never feeling quite enough. 

There's a particular exhaustion that comes from being "the only one" in the room. Every mistake feels like confirmation of what others might secretly believe: that you don't belong there. Every success feels like it must be perfect, or you'll let down not just yourself, but everyone who looks like you. 

I pushed myself relentlessly, not just to succeed but to prove everyone wrong—the bullies, the doubters, the person who once dismissed me with "Well, I guess you have some experience." Their voices echoed in my head long after they were gone. 

The Gift of Sharing 

It took me years to learn that sharing what I know is free, invaluable, and worth doing. Early in my career, I sometimes felt that holding tight to my knowledge gave me an edge in a competitive field. Now, one of my greatest joys comes from sharing something I've learned and seeing someone's eyes light up with understanding. 

I've discovered that knowledge multiplies when shared. The woman who once felt she needed to prove herself at every turn now finds fulfillment in helping others recognize their own potential. When I see someone I've mentored succeed, I feel a pride deeper than any personal achievement could bring. 

Coming Home to Myself 

Now, at Mogul Media Consulting, I've found a community of women who inspire me daily. Here, the differences that once made me a target are celebrated as strengths. Here, I can finally say what took decades to believe: I am enough, just as I am. 

I no longer overachieve to prove others wrong. I pursue excellence because I'm capable, because I enjoy challenges, and because I find purpose in exceeding expectations—not for others, but for myself. 

That little girl who once wished away her Asian features? I wish I could tell her that those features would one day be her power. That the very things that made her different would make her strong. That she was always, always enough. 

A Hand Extended 

This month as we reflect and celebrate women's history, I find myself thinking about Connie Chung and the incredible mentors who shaped my journey. Did Connie know that a little girl in Florida was watching her, finding courage in her very existence? Did she know how much it mattered just to see someone who looked like me succeeding? 

I'll never know if Connie understood her impact, but I understand mine. Every time I step into a room where I might be "the only one," I remember that I'm creating space for others. Every time I mentor a young woman struggling with her own sense of belonging, I'm channeling Sabrina's directness, Kim's encouragement, Sophia's wisdom, and Marissa's charisma—extending the same lifeline that was once extended to me. 

For those walking a similar path, I offer what I've learned:  

• Your difference is not a deficit but your greatest strength.  

• Take the leap even when—especially when—others doubt you can fly.  

• Share freely what you learn; it only grows when given away.  

• And remember that belonging isn't about fitting in—it's about standing firmly in who you are and bringing your full self to every table you sit at. 

  
  

Reflections Beyond the Mirror 

The journey of life is never straightforward. There are always detours through doubt, wrong turns into insecurity, and stretches where the way forward seems impossible to find. Yet every day, women around the world take these difficult paths, guided by mentors and their own inner strength, moving closer to that peaceful understanding that they belong exactly where they are, exactly as they are. 

The mirror that once reflected uncertainty can become a window to possibility. This transformation isn't just personal—it's the collective journey of countless women who have turned their unique differences into their greatest assets, who have overcome challenges that seemed insurmountable, who have silenced voices telling them they weren't enough. 

To every woman facing her own reflection with doubt: know that the very features, qualities, and differences you might wish to change today could become the very source of your power tomorrow. The aspects of yourself that make you feel different or alone have the potential to help others feel seen. Your unique perspective isn't just valuable—it's essential. 

The mirrors in our lives—whether literal or metaphorical—can become friends rather than enemies, showing not just who we are, but all we've overcome to get here. And for all these journeys—difficult, beautiful, and entirely our own—may we honor them with the recognition that we are, and have always been, enough. We already possess everything we need, just as we are, to create the change we wish to see in the world. 

For this collective wisdom, for the shoulders we stand upon, and for the doors we hold open for those who will follow, we can all be profoundly grateful.