Please, Underestimate Me
—I Dare You
When I first started dating my now-husband, the questions came fast—and they weren’t all nice (some from his friends, you know the types).
They were about what on earth I planned to do if I moved to Cyprus.
Not in curiosity, but in critique.
“What about your job?”
“But what will you do there?”
“How will you have a career on an island?”
These questions were asked again and again—not with awe, not even with doubt, but with something more dismissive. Cloaked in concern, but often tinged with condescension. And yes, some came from men. But many came from women. Women who, knowingly or not, had absorbed the same narrow script about what success is supposed to look like—and where a woman is allowed to thrive.
Even though I had just defended my PhD at the University of Toronto. Even though I was already consulting in my field.
Still, I was underestimated.
Because ambition, to many, doesn’t look like me.
It doesn’t look like Cyprus.
It doesn’t look like a new mother.
It doesn’t look like someone who doesn’t shout their credentials from the rooftops.
But here’s what they didn’t expect:
I turned my PhD into a published book.
I co-edited regional publications and led workshops on Women, Peace and Security (UNSCR 1325), funded by the Swedish Embassy and the EU.
I co-authored a White Book of best practices that later became the blueprint for Cyprus’s National Action Plan on Women, Peace and Security.
I chose to pause and raise my daughter with care and presence.
I was appointed to the Steering Committee of the Women, Peace and Security Network – Canada.
I’ve published articles, delivered talks, and built a career in a niche humanitarian field—all while living on that very same underestimated island.
I didn’t just “make it work.”
I redefined what working looks like.
Let’s be honest—women are underestimated all the time.
By strangers. By partners.
By institutions.
And yes—by other women.
We’re told to shrink our dreams, our ambition, our voice. We’re asked to justify our choices. We’re warned not to stray too far from the approved script.
But here’s the plot twist: being underestimated can be fuel.
It can sharpen your vision.
It forces you to build quietly, with integrity. And quietly and slowly over the past almost 11 years I have been building.
And when the time is right, it allows you to show—not tell—the story you’ve been writing all along.
So the next time someone asks, “But what about your job?”
Smile. Say thank you.
And let your work do the talking.
Please, underestimate me.
I dare you.