I didn’t get here because someone cheered me on.
I didn’t have mentors checking in or women ahead of me saying, “You’ve got this.” I wasn’t plucked from the crowd or fast-tracked or groomed. If anything, I was mostly ignored.
Overlooked. The only woman in the room, again and again.
But I stayed.
Not because someone told me I belonged—but because I wasn’t willing to leave.
There’s a difference.
I kept going because something in me refused to sit it out. Call it stubbornness. Call it instinct. Call it whatever you want—but I had it. That quiet fire that says, You may not see me now, but I’m not going anywhere.
And looking back, I realize someone must have seen something. Maybe they didn’t say it. Maybe they didn’t know how. But the doors didn’t close. The work moved forward. I built. I led. I got to the table—and I stayed.
That’s what this post is really about.
Not the people who handed me encouragement, but the truth that I kept showing up without it.
And now? I want to be the person who does say it. Out loud. Clearly. To the next woman who’s trying to find her way in:
I see you. You belong. You don’t have to prove it a thousand times. You already have.
Because legacy isn’t just about what we build.
It’s about who we help build next.
I don’t mean polished mentorship programs or five-point plans. I mean presence. I mean listening. I mean asking the next woman, “What are you working on?” and actually caring about the answer.
I mean staying in the room long enough to make space—not just for applause or advice, but for curiosity, encouragement, and real conversation.
That’s what Mentor Capital is, to me.
Not just investing in companies—but investing in women. In confidence. In clarity. In forward motion.
So let me ask you:
Who helped you get here?
And maybe more honestly—who noticed you, even if they never said it?
And now:
Who are you helping next?
Because the next generation of women founders and investors doesn’t need our perfection.
They need our presence.
They need to hear what we wish someone had told us sooner.
That it’s okay not to know everything.
That confidence is built, not gifted.
That staying is its own kind of power.
Still at the table.
Still believing.
Still making space for the next woman in line.
—Robbie
