Last week, I was in New Orleans for the Mortgage Star conference for women. During one of the sessions, a personal anecdote landed in a way that’s still echoing in my head. One of the speakers shared a story from the early days of dating her now-husband. It wasn’t flashy, just a moment of quiet certainty.

As an ambitious and outspoken woman in a male-dominated industry, she often faced pressure to tone herself down — but instead, she held her ground, and over time, earned respect through her expertise and success.

The confidence she had built through her career and personal experiences had shaped a deep, steady self-assurance. She brought that energy into this new relationship, and she didn’t wait for the pressure to change to creep in.

Early on, she looked at him and said, "I’m pretty sure this is who I am, and I’m not going to change."

She essentially gave him an easy out, no hard feelings.

Unfazed by even that level of directness, he simply said, "No, I’m good."

She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t dramatic. Just honest. Clear.

The next day, after the conference wrapped up, I wandered into an antique shop and was shown a ring with a voodoo stone. A simple band with a stone that changed color depending on the light — blue, then gold, then deep violet. Mysterious. Unapologetic. A little witchy (very me).

Later, looking at it on my hand, I realized why it had pulled me in. The stone shifts constantly, but the ring itself never changes. That’s the magic. It adapts to its surroundings without losing itself. It reflects, but it never erases.

Isn’t that exactly what the woman had done in her story?

She had learned how to move through rooms that weren’t always built for her and still hold on to herself.

As women, we often adapt. We know how to read the room and shift our tone, our energy, even our armor. But that doesn’t mean we bend at the core.