How did I feel when my institution’s all‑male leadership left me sitting alone on the row behind them at the conference athletic meetings? I remember wondering whether they would want their own wives to experience that same awkward moment—standing alone, excluded from the row, rather than welcomed as respected colleagues among their peers. I shrugged it off, the way I’ve done my whole life as a woman in a male‑dominated profession. But this time, something in me shifted. It was an awakening, a realization that my investment in the university was not valued in the way I had believed. I had been dismissed and diminished—yet it was only one of A Thousand Cuts.

Since discovering my God‑Given Space in sports at age fifteen, I’ve encountered challenges tied to being a woman, but I never viewed them as oppression. I saw them as opportunities to be a trailblazer in places where few women had gone. Even being the only woman in my college major didn’t intimidate me. I felt at ease among men, often traveling with male sports teams without a second thought. I wasn’t harassed—at least not beyond what was playful, family‑style teasing. Maybe that was naïve, but the only time I remember feeling truly excluded was after road trips in college, when my circle of friends—mostly male athletes—would head to their dorms to watch the playoffs while I returned to my room alone. I didn’t suggest alternatives; I simply accepted that as my reality—a girl who loved sports but couldn’t enter the male dorms.

The workplace, however, brought new layers of challenge. As a single, never‑married woman with no children who loves sports, I’ve had to push back against assumptions about who I am. For years, I didn’t feel slighted for the way God made me. Yes, I’ve Struggled With Singleness because I longed to be a wife and mother, but I trusted that God knew what was best. Still, over time, the subtle comments, the systemic biases, the moments of being talked over in meetings, the times my expertise was overlooked or uninvited—these became A Thousand Cuts. I don’t want to be labeled as liberal or a feminist. I simply want to be valued for the gifts God has given me and to mentor young women who wonder whether there is space for them in the sports world. Because the challenges are real—whether you are single or married, with children or without.

For me, this isn’t about gender politics or ideology. It’s about being treated as a valued daughter of God—with all my imperfections—recognized for the unique perspective I bring to the table alongside everyone else in the room. That is the vision I hold: a space where every person’s God‑given gifts are honored, where each one is allowed to flourish.

One would think that after thirty years, I would be numb to these moments—but instead, God keeps sharpening my vision for the kind of kingdom‑shaped leadership our world desperately needs. One where no woman has to endure A Thousand Cuts alone. Or how about a culture where no one has to endure the cuts at all?