Explore women’s perspectives on their lives.
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Inspiring Voices
Amy Song
I am the oldest of three children—with a younger sister and brother. When I was young, my father ran his own business, but after the IMF crisis, our family lost everything. My mother, however, had always possessed the ambition to start her own company. At the time in Korea, it was rare for women to own businesses, yet she became one of the first. She founded Kisuk Trading LTD, which has since grown into the largest clothing trading company in Korea.
Soon, we moved into my grandparents’ home. In those days, the patriarchal mindset in Korea was deeply ingrained. My grandparents, for example, would serve fruits and snacks only to my brother, praising him for being “such a pretty boy.” During that period, my mother suggested that we study abroad. My siblings, ten cousins, my aunt, and I—fourteen of us in total—moved to Singapore. Being the only one who spoke English, I naturally took on the responsibility of caring for everyone. That time in Singapore shaped my leadership skills in a very natural way.
After high school, I attended Emory University, where I majored in economics. Upon graduating, I returned to Korea, met my future husband, and began working for my mother’s company for ten years. One day, my mother told me she believed it was time for me to become CEO. In Korea, it is still common for the son of the family to inherit the business. But my mother said:
“I’ve worked so hard as a woman to build this company and bring it to where it is today. What made you think I wouldn’t give it to you when I, myself, am a woman?”
That statement struck me deeply. Today, I lead a company valued at roughly $100 million. I have always felt that because my mother built such a strong foundation, it is my duty to do ten, or even a hundred, times better. Many assume that the process must have been stressful, but for me, it was exciting. I believe I have a strong mindset and a composed nature, qualities that extend to my life with my husband and our two daughters.
Having seen the interviews you’ve conducted with others, I wanted to offer a different perspective. Many women long to be recognized as strong, independent, and capable—to be empowered in a world that underestimates them. My experience has been the opposite. I have been seen as a leader for as long as I can remember—by my parents, friends, siblings, and even my husband. He often says, “You’re good at this,” or “You can handle this yourself; you don’t need my help.” While many women might welcome those words, I don’t. I have heard them my whole life. What I long for is someone I can lean on—someone with whom I can let down my guard and be like a child.
This, I believe, is another facet of women’s empowerment: the desire not only to be respected for strength but also to be understood in vulnerability.
Mrs. Lau
“I was never an early bird—I was always a night owl. But having kids changed that. When I first began working while raising my children, I struggled to find myself. I felt lost, unsure of how to balance my career with motherhood. After talking with my therapist, I realized I needed to be more organized—not just for my family, but for myself.
For the past two years, I’ve lived by a tightly structured schedule. I wake up at 5 a.m., go to bed around midnight, and spend my days working and caring for my children. I have two physical calendars: one for my work and family schedules, and another solely for my kids’ social events. I have no choice but to stay on top of everything—and I do.
One of the biggest challenges of motherhood is that, once you have children, people often see you only as a mom, not as the person you were before. My therapist reminded me never to lose my self-identity. At work, I protect that part of myself. There, I’m not just “someone’s mom”—I’m an individual with my own responsibilities and roles. I make an effort not to center conversations on my kids because I want to be recognized for my contributions to the company. I want my colleagues to see me as a professional who takes her work seriously.
Of course, I feel the inevitable “mom guilt.” Because I have limited time with my children during the week, I dedicate my weekends entirely to them. I don’t go anywhere without them. Those moments remind me why I work and give me the motivation I need to start fresh on Monday.
I’ve learned that you can’t be the perfect mother, have the perfect family, and maintain the perfect career all at once. You can’t do everything at the same time—and that’s okay. My advice to other women is this: don’t try to do it all. Take your time. Focus on what matters most in each season of your life, and give yourself grace in the rest.”
Do-Eun Park
“I am… I’m not quite sure what to say—or even if I have much to contribute to your work. I’m just a 64-year-old grandma who often visits the cultural center to socialize. I don’t have much to offer in terms of deep insight. But I can say this: because I spent my early years living a very busy life, I’m now able to relax, eat what I want, do what I want, and enjoy my days without needing to stay financially active. I suppose I can say I’m happy. I feel at peace.
Before I retired, I was a professor at Ewha Womans University for 30 years. And before I became a grandmother, I went through a divorce.
After my divorce, I stopped meeting people. I became inactive—not necessarily because of the divorce itself, but because, at that age and after everything I had experienced, I realized that there are some things in life you can’t force, no matter how hard you try. So I stopped trying so hard. Divorced, retired… I let everything go. That might sound like I’m living a passive or even lonely life, but the truth is, I’ve never felt this comfortable. When my former students see me now, they often tell me I look genuinely happy. In the past, even when I was smiling, they said I looked sad. I think they were right.
Even though I lived as a professor for three decades, I never truly felt like it was the right path for me. I originally wanted to go to graduate school and pursue something more creative—perhaps become a TV producer. But my parents, seeing how ambitious I was, insisted I get married first. They believed that “smart girls don’t get married,” and they didn’t want me to end up alone. So I listened to them, even though my heart was elsewhere.
If I could give one piece of advice to beautiful young women like you, it would be this: follow your dreams. No matter what your parents say, no matter what people around you think—listen to yourself. You only get one life. Live it the way you want to.”
“I’ve always seen myself as a very independent woman. Because of that, I wasn’t someone who easily asked for help. I wanted to solve problems on my own.
A turning point in my life was becoming a single parent. My children’s father passed away ten years ago, and since then, I’ve been raising two kids by myself. I wear many hats—mother, father, boss, and coworker. At home, I have to balance being both the good cop and the bad cop. These demands have shaped my life into a busy one, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. If I’m not putting the same amount of effort into parenting as I do into work, I feel like something’s missing. Some people might think that working gives me an excuse to be less present for my kids, and that’s okay. But I’d rather be exhausted from juggling both roles than live an easy life where I abandon my responsibilities. There's fulfillment in knowing my efforts help both my children and my business grow.
That said, I’ve come to realize that not being able to ask for help isn’t always a strength. I hesitate to lean on others because I don’t want to burden them. I know how it feels to be the one constantly asked for favors. And while I sometimes wish I could complain or vent about my hardships, I always end up convincing myself that it won’t help solve the problem. So instead, I take matters into my own hands and push forward.
I don’t have a big dream, but I find fulfillment in the life I’ve built. I’ve developed my career and created a lifestyle that aligns with who I am. I no longer feel the need to fit into others’ expectations. In the past, I only focused on outcomes, not the progress I was making along the way. Now, I’ve reached a place where I can appreciate both the journey and the life I share with my family. I’ve let go of worrying about how others perceive me. All I want is to pursue a life that brings me happiness.”
Ju-Yeon Song
“It might be surprising, but there are some real similarities between creating a scent and crafting a children’s book. Both involve combining different “ingredients” to create a final product—each one with its own story, message, and the power to stir nostalgic memories. I love these little details about my work; they’re what make my job genuinely enjoyable and meaningful.
As much as I love what I do, there’s nothing in my life that I prioritize more than my family. When I was your age, I used to conduct interviews too, and I once had the chance to interview my aunt—an incredible woman. Something she said has stayed with me all these years: “Success and jobs are temporary, but family is permanent.” I truly believe that. It’s a simple truth that continues to guide the way I live and work.”
Josephine Moon
“I currently work at the United Nations Secretariat in New York, where I’ve been writing internal policies since 2015. Before that, I worked at UNESCO in Paris. One value I’ve consistently prioritized throughout my international career is maintaining my Korean identity. No matter where I am or what language I speak, I take pride in representing my country. During my interview at UNESCO, I emphasized that I aim to embody and promote the strengths of Korea—our intelligence, efficiency, and work ethic—as a way to leave a positive and lasting impression. I want my colleagues from around the world to experience those traits through me, and to come away with a strong appreciation for working with Koreans.
My interest in international relations began early, during my time living in Amsterdam from grades 5 to 11. That experience exposed me to diverse cultures and ways of thinking. Later, I returned to Korea and studied at Yonsei University’s Underwood International College, majoring in international studies. Pursuing a career at the UN felt like a natural step, even though I was the first graduate from my program to do so. My background has often made me feel like an in-between, sometimes seen as non-Korean in Korea, yet distinctly Korean abroad. But over time, I’ve learned that staying grounded in who I am matters more than how others perceive me.
Now, as a new mother, I’m learning to navigate the balance between career and family. Fortunately, the UN’s flexible schedule allows me to manage both, splitting time between my work and being with family in Korea. It’s not always easy, but I see it as an evolving journey, one that continues to shape both my personal and professional life.”
Ashley Song
“Life after college has been amazing. In some ways, it actually feels easier than being a student, because at work, the only thing that matters is the effort I put in from 8 to 5. When the workday ends, so does the responsibility. Unlike college, no late-night assignments or exams are looming over me.
Living in New York, I’ve spent a lot of my free time trying new things and exploring different experiences. After I clock out on Fridays, the rest of the day—and the entire weekend—is mine. I’ve taken pottery classes, gone to Pilates with friends, had endless brunches, and just embraced all the opportunities to explore life outside of school and work. It’s truly a great time to discover new interests and enjoy personal freedom. I hope no one is afraid of becoming an adult, because it’s genuinely a rewarding experience.
One of the greatest privileges our generation has is the ability to pursue meaningful careers with countless resources at our fingertips. We live in a time when you can find almost anything online. It’s far easier to access information now than it was for previous generations, so take advantage of it. Keep pursuing your passions, make smart and efficient decisions, and you will move closer to your goals.
Whatever field you choose, what matters is the willingness to figure things out on your own. Help is everywhere—but before asking for it, try doing it yourself. Whether you succeed or not, the process is invaluable. It’s in trying that we learn the most.”
Anna Yum
“I want people to see the joy that volunteering brings. My journey of volunteering started when the woman I aspired to be like at work recommended me to start volunteering for Junior League of Bergen County. I immediately joined this community and fell in love with it. It brings me great happiness that my own efforts could put a smile on one’s face. I have now been in this community for 14 years and I don’t think about quitting- ever.”
Nicole Rutigliano
“I’m a big animal lover, and I even volunteer at the local animal shelter. I’ve rescued animals myself—it’s something most people don’t know about me. It’s not something I share publicly, because it’s something I do for myself, not for recognition or praise. It brings me peace and joy in a quiet, personal way.
Something else that might surprise people is that I used to kickbox as a hobby. A few years ago, during a particularly stressful time in my career, I needed an outlet—and kickboxing was exactly that. I loved it in the moment, even if I don’t think I could handle that kind of intense training again. It gave me a way to release the pressure I was feeling mentally and emotionally.
For anyone going through a stressful time, I want to share this: the best way to give yourself a break is to physically remove yourself from the stressful environment. Whether it’s an office, a classroom, or even your own home—step outside for a few minutes. Talk to a friend, a coworker, a sibling, or a parent. Just give your mind some space to breathe. Sometimes, even a small reset can make a big difference.”
Belinda Lopresti
Pamela Baker
“After my kids got older and I returned to the workforce, I threw myself into it with full dedication. I was flying from place to place, juggling multiple projects and meetings. I was thriving—I felt good, and for the first time in a while, life seemed to make sense again.
But my daughter was born with an underdeveloped lung, and just as I arrived at one destination, I’d get a call from my family: she was back in the hospital. I felt like a failure. When I was at home, I couldn’t focus on work. When I was at work, I felt like I wasn’t being the mother I needed to be. I was stuck in a cycle of guilt and confusion, unsure how to keep it all together.
Then one day, I saw a young woman at our company give an incredible presentation. I knew she had two kids, and I was amazed at how she seemed to handle everything so effortlessly. I couldn’t help but walk up to her afterward and ask, “How do you manage it all so perfectly?”
She smiled and said she used to be an overachiever just like me. But eventually, she realized she would never feel fully satisfied with every part of her life at once. So she created a new rule for herself: when she gave A+ effort at work, she didn’t expect the same from herself at home. And when she was an amazing mom, she allowed herself to give a little less at work the next day. She stopped chasing perfection and started seeking balance.
I thought, “What an incredible way to look at life.”
Now, I strive to do the same. To aim for above average—not perfection. To do my best without always expecting the best. To give myself grace. To simply do good and feel good.”
During my third year as an undergraduate, I made the bold decision to pivot away from my major—education in Chinese as a foreign language—and pursue something entirely different. I set my sights on the software industry and ended up working in that field for several years.
Software and technology are still overwhelmingly male-dominated, and my presence as a woman often surprised people. Male colleagues would make comments like, “Oh, are you the secretary?” or joke about how our company was hiring “pretty girls.” It was frustrating, but also revealing. I realized how deeply ingrained the stereotype was—that IT is only for men. I knew we had to challenge that idea, simply by doing the work and doing it well.
As a project manager, I led teams made up of people older than me, more experienced than me, and very different from me. But none of that mattered—it was never about gender or appearance. What mattered was the work, the leadership, and the trust I built with my team. That job taught me skills that go far beyond what can be listed on a resume. I learned how to speak up—not just for myself, but for others. I learned how to push limits, lead under pressure, prioritize competing tasks, and stay afloat in a schedule packed with demanding meetings.
After being laid off, I took time to reflect on my career path. I realized I couldn’t see myself doing that job for another five or ten years. Even though I was making good money, I felt unhappy. Deep down, I had always loved biology, scuba diving, and marine life. So I made another bold decision: to go back to school and study marine biology.
Now, as I approach graduation and prepare to step into a career in marine science, I feel more certain than ever that I’ve found the right path. My previous job gave me financial security, but this new direction offers something much more important: fulfillment.”
Silvia Gao
Genevieve Allard (Part 1)
“My life is divided into thirds: prosecutor, mother, and law teacher. I’ve always been driven and ambitious—traits shaped early on by my experience as an All-American high school swimmer. “Goal-oriented” perfectly describes how I spent the first third of my life: working as a prosecutor at the Bergen County Prosecutor’s Office.
The second phase of my life began when I became a mother. I wanted to be both a skilled prosecutor and a present, involved parent—but balancing both proved incredibly difficult. I could no longer focus solely on my career, and so I made a bold decision: I stepped away from prosecution to prioritize what mattered most—being a mother. I spent the next ten or so years at home, and it was an amazing chapter. I was blessed to be there for my kids as they grew up, and I even reconnected with my love of sports by coaching their teams.
When my son entered 8th grade and my daughter started 5th grade, my desire to return to work was reignited. I decided to try teaching and was fortunate to become a law teacher at Bergen County Technical High School. It was the perfect role—blending my legal background with my love for children and education.
Throughout my life, people have perceived me as strong—someone who sees the world in black and white, clearly knowing what is right and wrong. But the truth is, I’ve learned to live comfortably in the gray. Parenting and teaching taught me that. Students make mistakes—they lie, cheat, smoke in the bathroom—all kinds of things. When I was a prosecutor, I understood that a first-time offender wouldn’t be treated the same as someone with a long record. But in real life, especially with kids, it’s much harder to draw the line. Teaching allowed me not to be so harsh or punitive. It taught me to forgive, to show empathy, and to give grace—to let students learn and grow from their mistakes.”
Genevieve Allard (Part 2)
“When I was working as a prosecutor and became pregnant, there were very few resources to help me balance my career with motherhood. I felt like I was screaming into the wind. I kept saying, “You trained me for ten years—I went to the FBI for forensic training, took every course, handled so many trials—and yet you still aren’t paying me enough to take care of my family.” I knew I was a public servant; I didn’t go into this field for the money. Still, I made it clear I was willing to stay if they could offer me a part-time schedule or let me job-share with someone else. But it never worked out.
Funny enough, about three years ago, I ran into the very prosecutor I had resigned under—the one I had pleaded with for part-time work. We exchanged small talk, and he asked what I was doing now. I told him I was a law teacher. He looked surprised—shocked, even, that someone with my talent had left the legal field. I couldn’t hold it in. I blurted out, “It was you! I quit because of you. I wanted to stay, but you couldn’t give me a part-time job.” He looked embarrassed and didn’t say much at the moment.
But as I was walking to my car, he came running after me. He sincerely apologized. He didn’t try to defend his decision, but he admitted that at the time, society just didn’t take these issues seriously enough. He told me he now realized he should have accommodated my needs, and that his decision had been the wrong one. I genuinely appreciated that.
Later, my husband told me about a woman at his office who became pregnant. I told him, “Don’t you dare suggest she has to come back full-time. Don’t do that to her.” He listened. He turned to his employee and asked what she wanted. Together, they worked out what she needed financially, and they decided she’d work four days a week, with the option to work from home a few times a month. I was amazed this happened 15 years ago—it felt like progress.
I believe change doesn’t only come from women sharing their struggles, though that’s important. Real change happens when we have allies—our brothers, fathers, uncles, friends—people in power who stand up and say, “This isn’t right.” More people need to recognize the value of talented women in the workforce and fight for them. That’s how we move forward—together.”
“Just a few months ago, I was playing on the boys’ ice hockey team. Today, I have the honor of representing the first-ever Egyptian Women’s Ice Hockey Team. And yet, I’m still the same person I’ve always been—someone who takes school seriously, stays fiercely competitive, and strives for excellence in everything I do.
When the opportunity arose to join Egypt’s women’s team, I knew it was more than just a chance to play the sport I love—it was a chance to make history. It was a chance to prove that women can excel in any sport, just as much as men can. Being part of Egypt’s first women’s ice hockey team is both a tremendous honor and a great responsibility. We’re not just athletes—we’re breaking barriers and challenging stereotypes. We’re showing girls across Egypt and beyond that they can chase their dreams, no matter how unconventional those dreams may be.
This team represents more than competition—it represents change. I’m proud to be part of something that paves the way for future generations of female athletes. And while some may look at me and see “just a girl,” I want them to know: everything I’ve achieved—both academically and athletically—is because I am the girl I am today.”
Sara Genena
“덕업일치’ (duk-eob-il-chi) is a phrase that describes me perfectly—it means doing what you love as your job. I’ve always been passionate about culture, music, movies, and subcultures. Looking back, I think this deep interest naturally led me to major in fashion design in college. At the time, though, I was constantly worried about my future. I often wondered if this major could lead to a stable job. Now, I know I made the right choice—I chose a career that makes me genuinely happy. It’s rare to love your job, but I’m fortunate to say that I do.
Still, I have to admit: being a working woman in 2024 isn’t easy. In Korea, my generation is among the first to see highly educated women actively participating in the workforce. On the surface, it might seem like we’ve achieved equal opportunity, but that’s far from the truth. Many top positions—CEOs, COOs, CIOs—are still overwhelmingly held by men. Even in my own workplace, I find myself working with far more men than women.
To be clear, I’ve never experienced overt sexism. My male colleagues don’t treat me differently because of my gender, and I respect the sacrifices they make for their careers. But I still feel a subtle disconnect. I don’t want to spend my weekends watching soccer, hiking, or playing golf just to fit in. Some women might enjoy those things, but I don’t—and I don’t think it’s fair to assume I will.
This may seem like a small issue, but it matters. Having even a few female coworkers would make a real difference to my mental and emotional experience at work. That said, no challenge—big or small—will ever stop me from doing the job I love. This is the path I chose, and I have no regrets.”
Alicia Park
“When I first came to the U.S. to pursue my dream of becoming an artist, many people questioned why I would choose such a difficult path. Perhaps it was because I was not only a woman, but also Asian. In the American art world, it was much easier for white Americans to establish themselves and exhibit their work than it was for people of other ethnicities. I’m sure this was true in many fields, but this was 32 years ago, when I had just arrived. Things have improved since then, but I wouldn’t have given up on my dream regardless.
I’ve always believed that art would be a constant in my life. As I grew into my identity as an artist, I found that it allowed me to express my instincts and essence most authentically. I knew I had found the right path. Thankfully, people today often see it as something special when minorities—like Asian women—enter the art world with their own voice and perspective.
The most fulfilling and proud moments for me are when I get to connect with people during my exhibitions. I also feel a deep sense of pride knowing that I live as an artist each day, rooted in a routine I’ve created for myself. Being an artist means there’s no set deadline—no clear endpoint. That uncertainty makes me constantly question and reflect on my existence as an artist. And I believe that kind of questioning is not only natural but essential.”
Joohyun Kang
“The Lee Sanghee & Friends Orchestra began with just two members united by a shared passion for music and a vision for a better world. Today, I’m incredibly proud to say we’ve grown into an ensemble of 107 members—from first-grade elementary school students to the 93-year-old Chairman of Chongwoo Trading. This remarkable journey has been fueled not only by our dedication to supporting vaccine research but by a common goal: creating a world where no one suffers from infectious diseases.
Now in our 20th year in partnership with the International Vaccine Institute (IVI), I’ve found both immense joy and a profound sense of responsibility in leading this orchestra. Through this experience, I’ve come to understand the true meaning of donation—not just in financial terms, but in the gift of time, talent, effort, and passion for a greater cause. I hope our performances resonate with audiences and inspire them as deeply as this journey has inspired me. Our music is more than sound; it’s a testament to our unwavering commitment to a healthier, more compassionate world.”
Sang-Hee Lee
“When I was young, I was so shy I wished I could blend into the walls, invisible to everyone around me. I didn’t want to be seen—I just wanted to disappear into the background. But as I grew older, I realized I didn’t want others to feel the way I once did. With that goal in mind, I chose to major in secondary education. Looking back, I know it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but it felt like a step toward something bigger.
After teaching for eight years at the Academy of the Holy Angels, I found myself craving a deeper connection with my students. I wanted to do more than assign work and give tests—I wanted to support them emotionally. I realized that while teaching had its rewards, I was often contributing to their stress. I didn’t want to be another source of pressure; I wanted to be someone they felt safe with, no matter what kind of student they were.
I was an introvert stepping into a not-so-introverted career. Even now, I’m still surprised that someone as shy and anxious as me—someone who struggles with health anxiety—is doing this work. But becoming a counselor changed everything. I now make my own schedule, speak my truth, and feel more in control of who I am. More importantly, I get to connect with students in meaningful ways. If there’s ever a chance to make someone smile, I’ll take it. I have no regrets. The girl who once wanted to blend in now helps students stand out. And when they tell me they’re glad I’m someone they can talk to anytime, I know I made the right choice.”
Jennifer Trubac
“Being a student-athlete isn’t easy. There’s no room for procrastination—once you fall behind, it’s hard to catch up. But track was what truly helped me recover from the isolation of COVID. It gave me a chance to connect with people again after months of quarantine. Now, track plays a central role in my life—in the best way. It’s shaped my routine, my social life, what I eat, how I sleep, and more. I see track not as an individual pursuit, but as a team effort. I’m constantly learning from my teammates and pushing myself to become the best version of who I can be.”