We’ve all heard it. We know the stats about how difficult it is for women to raise capital for early-stage startups. It’s almost not worth repeating at this point. There’s an article every week. A panel at every conference.

And the advice is always the same: get in front of as many people as possible. Go to the events. Say yes to the dinners. Take the meetings. Get on the plane. Be everywhere.

Statistically, it makes sense. If 1 in 100 people you meet might have an interest in investing, then it’s a numbers game. Meet 1,000 people, and suddenly you have 10 potential investors. That’s how companies get funded. That’s how momentum builds.

So you show up. You put yourself in the rooms. You say yes. The most successful start-up founders do just that.

In a recent podcast episode, I sat down with publicist Sarah Mawji from Venture Strategies to talk about how we used PR to build visibility for my wellness tech startup, Loba.

We were discussing what it actually takes for early-stage founders to get seen, and how as women we’re exposing ourselves differently than male founder counterparts.

I shared a blatantly inappropriate interaction I had with angel investor who when introduced to me, said he had two wives and was looking for a third if I wanted to talk about my business.

As I’ve been thinking about it since, something else started to surface for me. Series of moments I shrugged off, or simply moved past without much analysis, started to feel less like isolated incidents and more like part of a pattern I hadn’t fully named.

There was also that happy hour I agreed to, where halfway through I could feel the conversation shift. What had started as a professional meeting slowly revealed itself to be something else entirely, with subtle questions about my personal life and whether I was seeing anyone.

Or a Facetime meeting with a man who was wearing short-shorts, which I should never have known about but became aware of when he turned the camera around to his lap to show me a product he was holding. Awkward but, okay… until followed by the comments on how nice my manicure was. How he had been dating someone who didn’t take care of hers and had found that unattractive. How he appreciated a woman who did.

Individually, each of these moments is almost easy to file away. Uncomfortable, yes. Bizarre, yes. But not necessarily something you stop to interrogate further. Yet something about my conversation with Sarah made them resurface differently for me. Not as anecdotes, but as data points.

After sharing on the podcast, I received a number of messages from friends and listeners. Some were surprised, others horrified, with women saying they had similar stories. And it made me realize this topic deserved more space. Because there’s lots to unpack here.

Before I had a chance to release the episode, this LinkedIn Post came up in my feed. Take a moment to read it, and meet me on the other side:

Sydney Robinson is talking about a very real problem here.

Personally, I’ve been less concerned about “how it looks” and more concerned about my time being wasted if I learn intentions are anything other than to evaluate an investment opportunity.

Because each of those meetings costs me something. An hour here. An evening there. The mental load of preparing, showing up, staying sharp. And then the added layer of recalibrating in real time when you realize the dynamic isn’t what you expected.

Do you redirect the conversation? Do you exit early? Do you stay polite and see it through?

All of that is energy that doesn’t go back into the business.

Not to mention that I likely paid a babysitter $100 for me to be there, or left my partner home alone another night with a 6 month old, him carrying the load of childcare and another debit made in our “relationship account” that I need to find energy to deposit a “credit” in later.

The comments on that LinkedIn post mentioned the term “invisible constraint”.

And honestly, that’s perfect language to use. Because it’s something I don’t see men thinking about, let alone spend any amount of energy on when they’re raising for their own companies.

There’s no extra calculation. No background processing running. For them there’s just the meeting! Just the opportunity!

For women, it is rarely just that.

There is an additional filter applied to every interaction, an ongoing assessment that becomes so normalized it almost disappears into the background.

It’s taken me this long to even process these interactions and the invisible tax of it all in my own mind.

But it is still there, quietly shaping decisions about which opportunities to pursue, which rooms to enter, and how often you’re willing to put yourself in situations that may or may not be what they initially appear to be.

So, another drain of energy. And another waste of time, as every meeting with someone like that could have been time spent with someone worthwhile.

When we talk about women getting access to capital, we tend to focus on the visible barriers - the pitch opportunities, warm introductions or who gets into the room. But there’s a layer underneath that.

This isn’t something that shows up in funding reports or diversity statistics, but it does have a real impact on how the process unfolds.

If the primary advice for raising capital is to maximize the number of interactions, and the quality and intent of those interactions are uneven, then the playing field is not as level as it might seem even when we do get the opportunity to be in the right room.

None of this is to suggest that women should opt out of the process, or that meaningful connections aren’t being made every day. They are.

There are so many men I’ve interacted with during this process that felt safe, authentic, and whom I have ongoing friendships and mentorships with to this day.

But if we’re serious about understanding why access to capital remains unequal, it requires looking beyond the surface-level advice and acknowledging the less visible dynamics that shape how that advice plays out in practice.

I wonder if this is part of why we’ve seen founding teams with a mix of genders raising more capital than they used to. It’s a good news story that woman at least are on these founding teams! But solo female founders haven’t been receiving more capital than they used to. In fact, it’s been quite stagnant.

We need a more honest conversation about what networking actually entails, and who, exactly, is paying the hidden costs of playing that game.

I don’t have the answer at the moment. There are many things about being a woman in this world I don’t yet know how to navigate. Maybe someone smarter than me will figure it out a few generations from now.

What I do know is that society is missing out on billions of dollars of opportunity, better cash flow efficiencies, higher profitability and more money going back into communities from female founders being at the helm.

Honest conversations surely must be a good place to start.

First, Sephora enters Formula 1 through a partnership with F1 Academy, and it’s not just about beauty. With women now making up a growing share of the F1 fanbase, this move signals a much bigger shift in where brands are finding relevance, influence, and future growth.

Then, Nike teams up with Louis Theroux to promote Air Max, just days before his “Manosphere” documentary drops on Netflix. We unpack whether Nike is trolling internet masculinity culture… or mastering attention in real time.

And finally, Quince quietly builds a $10+ billion brand by rethinking luxury altogether. With a manufacturer-to-consumer model, “luxury for less” positioning, and lawsuits from legacy brands piling up, we get into what their rise says about consumer behaviour, brand value, and the future of fashion.

Plus, we get into:

• The “Netflix effect” and how entertainment is reshaping entire industries

• Why masculinity has become a branding battleground

• The psychology behind scarcity, dupes, and Gen Z spending habits

• And the subtle shift from brand obsession → value obsession

This episode is a fun one all about brands that know exactly where culture is going next.

Youtube

Apple Podcasts

Spotify

_________________

LINKS:

Join the Branded Assets community on Instagram

Follow Kate on Instagram, TikTok and LinkedIn

When I was raising for Loba, I kept hearing the same thing: “You’re everywhere.”

But behind that perception wasn’t a big budget, it was a strategic (and relentless) push for visibility.

In this episode, I sit down with PR strategist Sarah Mawji of Venture Strategies to unpack what actually goes into building that kind of momentum during a fundraise.

Using Loba as a case study, we break down:

• The PR and media strategies that helped build credibility without a big spend

• How to use earned media to get in front of the right investors

• Why smaller publications can sometimes drive more results than major headlines

• And what founders should be doing before they start raising

But this conversation goes beyond strategy.

I also share the side of fundraising that rarely gets talked about:

• Taking investor meetings while postpartum and running on adrenaline

• The pressure to constantly be “on” — pitching, posting, showing up

• Being told to get out there and network… while navigating inappropriate behaviour from male investors and wasted meetings

• And the reality that you can be “everywhere”, and still not close the round

We talk about burnout, visibility fatigue, and the mental toll of building in public, alongside the unexpected upside: confidence, clarity, and growth.

If you’re preparing for a raise, in the middle of one, or reflecting on the process, this episode will give you both the strategy and the reality check.

Youtube

Apple Podcasts

Spotify

_________________

Follow & Subscribe

If you enjoyed this episode, make sure to follow Branded Assets on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and YouTube, and share it with someone who’s building, investing, or simply paying attention.

--------

LINKS:

Join the Branded Assets community on Instagram

Follow Kate on Instagram, TikTok and LinkedIn

Connect with Sarah Mawji / Venture Strategies on LinkedIn and Instagram.

After 15 years in marketing and eight years running my own agency, I share why so many founders skip strategy, jump straight to visuals, and end up building brands on vibes instead of clarity.

From the “canvification of brands” to logos made in Microsoft Word, this episode is a candid look at what happens when convenience replaces intention.

You’ll learn:

• What a brand is not

• Why brand strategy is a strategic asset, not a nice-to-have

• How a strong brand makes hiring, partnerships, marketing, and scaling easier

• The real difference between brand strategy and visual identity

• Why skipping this work early will cost you more later

We walk through my own early-stage approach, from validating market demand and defining the problem to researching materials, manufacturing, and competitive positioning.

If you’re sitting on an idea and feeling overwhelmed about intellectual property, this section of the pod is for you.

Whether you’re a startup founder, small business owner, or creative building something new, this episode is a reminder that your brand is the emotional connection people form with you over time. And that connection starts with clarity, not Canva.

If you’re interested in joining the waitlist for our upcoming Brand Strategy Workbook, visit armaturecollective.com and scroll to “Get the Brand Workbook.”

Subscribe, leave a review, and share your biggest takeaway. The early support for Branded Assets means more than you know.

Youtube

Apple Podcasts

Spotify

__________

LINKS:

Join the Branded Assets community on Instagram.

Follow Kate on Instagram, TikTok and LinkedIn.

Join the Brand Strategy Workbook waitlist at armaturecollective.com

EXCLUSIVE OFFERS:

Get 20% off Skin Edition with code BRANDEDASSETS at shopskinedition.ca

They cover:

• Kindred’s $125M raise and the rise of home swapping as consumers shift from ownership to access

• Frida’s resurfaced marketing controversy and what it reveals about brand longevity, cultural shifts, and crisis response

• The rise of experiential retail — from Aritzia’s massive new Vancouver flagship to Netflix’s move into real-world “Netflix House” experiences

• Why brands are investing in IRL experiences as digital fatigue hits a tipping point

Plus, in the “brands we’re watching” segment:

• The risks and rise of prediction markets like Polymarket

• And why MrBeast entering financial services might signal a much bigger shift

This episode explores the intersection of consumer behaviour, brand strategy, and cultural power—and what it all means for the future of business.

Apple Podcasts

Spotify

Youtube

Follow & Subscribe
If you enjoyed this episode, make sure to follow Branded Assets on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and YouTube, and share it with someone who’s building, investing, or simply paying attention.

_________________

LINKS:

Join the Branded Assets community on Instagram.

Follow Kate on Instagram, TikTok and LinkedIn.

In this solo episode of Branded Assets, I break down why celebrity alone is no longer enough to build a successful brand. From Hailey Bieber’s billion-dollar Rhode exit to the quiet shutdown of Kim Kardashian’s SKKN by Kim and the struggles facing brands like Fenty and Good Clean Goop, the reality is clear: fame may open doors, but it doesn’t build loyalty.

We explore why so many celebrity consumer brands are failing despite massive audiences and marketing budgets.

I also shares what actually drives brand success today, including product quality, authenticity, audience alignment, and strong execution.

Plus, in this episode’s community question, I answers a common founder concern: How do you share a startup idea without worrying someone will steal it? I attempt to explain how trademarks, patents, and NDAs work in practice ,and why execution matters far more than protecting the idea itself.

If you’re a founder, marketer, or brand builder navigating today’s attention economy, this episode breaks down the real lessons behind celebrity-driven businesses.

In this episode:

• Why celebrity brands are becoming oversaturated

• The difference between hype and sustainable brand building

• What Rhode did right compared to other celebrity brands

• Why brands like SKKN by Kim and Good Clean Goop struggled

• The real drivers of loyalty in consumer products today How founders can protect their ideas while still building publicly

Key Takeaway:

Celebrity opens the door. But authenticity, product quality, and brand story are what keep customers coming back.

Watch on Youtube

Listen on Spotify

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Subscribe today for more insights on brand strategy, modern wealth, and the business behind cultural moments:

Subscribe now

_________________

LINKS:

Join the Branded Assets community on Instagram

Follow Kate on Instagram, TikTok and LinkedIn

EXCLUSIVE OFFERS:

15% off from Dear Lucy with the code BRANDEDASSETS at dearlucyskincare.com

This week, we’re asking:

• Is analog officially the new luxury flex?

• Are Kate’s Bumble shares ever recovering… or is it time to cut losses?

• And are brands still selling through influencers — or is the real action happening in the group chat?

• From Porsche’s hand-illustrated holiday campaign to Hermès and Valentino leaning into human craft over AI, we unpack why luxury brands are distancing themselves from “AI slop” and why scarcity, effort, and energy might be the new status symbols.

• Then we get into Bumble’s 90%+ stock drop, Whitney Wolfe Herd’s return, dating fatigue, and the cultural shifts impacting modern relationships. Is this a product problem… or a culture problem?

We also break down:

• Why influencer marketing isn’t converting like it used to

• The rise of affiliate partnerships and referral codes

• How Reddit threads, mom groups, Slack chats, and private DMs are quietly driving real revenue

• Why brands need to double down on customer service and social listening
  

Plus:

• The Shay Mitchell skincare controversy and what it teaches us about brand positioning

• The trad wife era, soft girl energy, and what women might actually be striving for in 2026

• Brands on our radar: Sleep or Die and Wealthsimple’s $750M marketing blitz
  

Smart. Opinionated.
Think dirty martinis at midnight, but make it brand strategy.

Welcome to the Rich Girl Rundown.

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Spotify

Watch on Youtube

_________________
LINKS:

Join the Branded Assets community on Instagram
Follow Kate on Instagram, TikTok and LinkedIn

EXCLUSIVE OFFERS:
15% off Dear Lucy serum with code BRANDEDASSETS at http://dearlucyskincare.com
Get 10% off Leah Yard Designs with code BA10 at http://leahyarddesigns.com

No trust fund. No tech-bro boyfriend. Just a mortgage, hard-earned equity, and the courage to take a real risk.

I walk through the transition from corporate into entrepreneurship, the life changes that forced me to reassess everything, and the decision to remortgage my condo to fund the early stages of Loba. I breaks down not just what I did, but what I stood to lose in the process.

This episode pulls back the curtain on the financial realities founders rarely talk about — lifestyle trade-offs, personal guarantees, debt, and knowing when you’ve reached the edge of your risk tolerance.

In this episode, you’ll hear:

• How real estate equity helped fund my startups

• The risks behind remortgaging a home to build a business

• Why lifestyle and obligations matter when taking financial bets

• How to think through worst-case scenarios before you leap

• When to spend money, incorporate, and seek professional advice

This is a story about courage, calculated risk, and using what you already have to build something new, even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed.

Pull up a chair. Let’s talk about the bets no one sees.

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Spotify

Subscribe on Youtube

_________________
LINKS:

Join the Branded Assets community on Instagram
Follow Kate on Instagram, TikTok and LinkedIn

EXCLUSIVE OFFERS:
20% off Lavoh face cloths with code PODCAST at http://lavoh.com
Get 20% off Skin Edition with code BRANDEDASSETS at http://shopskinedition.ca

We’re going behind the scenes of 15+ years in advertising and branding, and the rollercoaster journey of launching a wellness tech startup, Loba — raising hundreds of thousands, investing my own capital, pitching while pregnant and postpartum, and navigating the world of venture capital, funding, media, and the messy middle no one warns you about.

This episode is honest, personal, and a bit vulnerable, including a look at the lessons I wishes she’d known earlier, and the experiences that shaped everything the Branded Assets podcast stands for.

If you’ve ever felt like the world of finance, investing, power moves, or startup culture wasn’t built with you in mind… this podcast is for you.

Consider this your invitation to take a seat at the table.

In this teaser episode:

• The story behind Branded Assets

• Why I hesitated to start a podcast

• Why these conversations matter for women — now more than ever

• What you can expect from Season 1

Branded Assets is here to demystify the business world for women — and make these conversations feel as normal as discussing fashion or reality-TV gossip.

Thanks for being here. I’m so glad you joined us.

Subscribe on Apple Podcasts

Watch/Listen on Youtube

_________________
LINKS:

Join the Branded Assets community on Instagram
Follow Kate on Instagram, TikTok and LinkedIn

EXCLUSIVE OFFERS:
Get 20% off Skin Edition with code BRANDEDASSETS at shopskinedition.ca

But for for those who may be stumbling across this post or my podcast for the first time:

Hi. I’m Kate.

I’ve spent 15 years in advertising and branding, helping everyone from tiny startups to national organizations figure out how to actually connect in a noisy world. I run Armature Collective, my boutique agency, and I built Loba, a wellness tech startup that took me deep into the world of venture capital, angel investors, cap tables, IP, incubators, trade shows, and tech media.

I raised hundreds of thousands. Invested just as much of my own money. Did CES in Las Vegas seven and a half months pregnant. Landed in Wirecutter. Got into Best Buy Canada. Pitched. Panelled. Postpartum-ed my way through the startup circuit.

I learned a lot.

I also saw up close how unforgiving the system can be, especially for women and especially for mothers with young children. The parts no one puts in the pitch deck. The conversations that happen behind closed doors. The risks. The tradeoffs. The power dynamics.

There is so much I wish I had known before I started.

So this is me, sharing the insights I’ve gained over eight years of entrepreneurship and five years of working to get a tech start-up off the ground.

I want it to feel like you’re pulling up a chair to the table with me and my founder friends, enjoying a dirty vodka martini as we gossip, share, and strategize through it all.

We’ll talk valuations and venture the same way we talk fashion and reality TV. We’ll break down billion dollar headlines, brand fails and winning strategies. We’ll unpack PR crises. We’ll say the quiet parts out loud.

Here’s what you can expect from the show:

• Smart Solo Takes where I get vulnerable about my own journey making money, building businesses, investing, and raising capital

• Rich Girl Rundown episodes where me and my co-host break down what’s happening in the world of brands, business, and billion-dollar gossip. The latest headlines, buy-outs, and market trends.

• And conversations with Hot Seat Guests—founders, funders, experts creatives and operators who are shaping the future of brand, business and influence.

At its core, this space is about demystifying money, reframing power, and making these topics culturally a part of everyday conversation.

I hope you’ll join me in pulling up a chair, because power looks better when women are in the room.

Subscribe on Apple Podcasts

Watch/Listen on Youtube

Place that little girl inside a capitalist, corporate society where drive, ambition, and busyness are so often confused with value, and it becomes a perfect breeding ground for an unhealthy relationship with responsibility and achievement.

Thankfully, the empathy gene has always been strong. I am thoughtful, deeply kind, and I get genuine joy from surprising and delighting the people I love.

Most of my adult life, these two parts of me have coexisted in relative harmony. There have been seasons where my masculine and feminine energies felt balanced. Where momentum and meaning lived side by side.

But there have also been plenty of seasons where my masculine energy completely eclipsed the feminine.

Before going further, it’s worth sharing that when I talk about masculine and feminine energy, I’m not talking about gender. Every person holds both feminine and masculine energy. What matters is how they’re expressed and whether they’re in balance.

At its core, masculine energy is about direction, structure, and exertion.

In its healthy form, it looks like:

• Initiating and building momentum

• Setting goals and moving toward them decisively

• Providing structure, safety, and containment

• Measuring progress without tying it to self-worth

• Holding responsibility without resentment

• Leading with clarity and conviction

When masculine energy becomes overextended, though, it hardens:

• Worth becomes tied to productivity

• Urgency becomes constant

• It feels impossible to rest

• Control replaces trust

• You’re always “on”

This is what turns into burnout.

Feminine energy, by contrast, is about presence, receptivity, rhythm, and connection.

In its healthy expression, it looks like:

• Attuning to cycles, seasons, and intuition

• Allowing rather than forcing

• Nurturing life, ideas, and relationships
  Being in the moment instead of racing through it

• Holding emotional depth and complexity
  Trusting process over immediacy

But feminine energy has a shadow too:

• Loss of direction or boundaries

• Over-giving without replenishment

• Avoidance of conflict or responsibility

• Romanticizing surrender at the expense of agency

• Identity dissolving into service (something many mothers know intimately)

I built my first business as the antithesis to an unhealthy masculine, corporate way of being.

With the conceptualization of my marketing agency Armature Collective, I was creating a company that believed the best creative work happened outside of the hours of 9-5. That a long walk on the seawall meant a better newspaper ad headline. That the colour of sky at dusk would inspire that gorgeous palette for my client’s new brand. In a time where work-from-office was mandatory, Zoom didn’t exist, and digital nomads were seen as hippies hanging at budget hostels, my vision for Armature was that freelancers could support client accounts not LIKE the traditional agencies, but BETTER than.

And it worked.

My life truly expanded. Flexibility. Freedom. I was immediately profitable. After 6 months or so, we had a healthy-sized team of designers and brand strategists with some pretty great accounts under our belts.

Loba was different.

Although the original vision for Loba was deeply feminine in nature, rooted in wellness, ritual, and care, the reality of building a venture-backed tech company pulled me hard in the opposite direction.

Raising money in a world that valued growth at all costs demanded constant proving, constant pushing, constant urgency.

I could feel myself slipping into survival mode.

There were moments when I noticed it happening. When I tried to re-anchor myself to why I started Loba in the first place. To the simple, connected wellness practices that inspired it.

But the structure I was operating inside didn’t reward slowness or attunement. It rewarded speed and endurance.

Eventually, my body and spirit caught up with the truth I’d been resisting.

This fall, after putting a pause on Loba and stepping away from the startup world as a founder, I made a quiet but intentional decision. Instead of filling the space with another project or another push, I leaned into the rhythm of domestic life:

Into mothering my son during a month without childcare.
Into supporting my partner as he stepped into a demanding new role.
Into hosting friends and family.
Into crafts, baking, and meals that weren’t rushed.
Into days shaped by rhythm rather than optimization.

I tried, as much as I could (because I am human) to treat October without childcare as the maternity leave I never took. Even though I was still working and juggling responsibilities, I wasn’t on the pitch circuit, and I could focus on one business rather than two.

For a little while, I let life slow down enough to really pay attention.

The goals on my whiteboard reflected the shift. Not revenue targets or launch dates, but things like: host Thanksgiving and Christmas. Make apple butter. Hang artwork. Take Ó to the aquarium and the pumpkin patch.

As fall came to an end on the Winter Solstice, what surprised me most was how little urgency I felt to rush anything forward. Moving more slowly on the work front didn’t make me less ambitious. It made me more strategic. More intentional about the projects and clients I want to give my energy to next.

This season of domesticity hasn’t made me smaller. It’s made me steadier. It reminded me that ambition doesn’t disappear when you stop forcing it. Sometimes it just waits until it’s invited back in a healthier form.

For the first time in a long while, I stopped pushing. I didn’t abandon ambition. I just gave up forcing things to happen.

I’m taking these lessons and reflections with me as we move into the new year. I’m excited for what I’ll do here in this space and with Branded Assets. I’m continuing to work on strategic options for giving Loba a new home or direction, and the next evolution of Armature is in the works.

So, here’s to 2026—and building things without burning myself out this time.

“To be a mother of a son is one of the most important things you can do to change the world. Raise them to respect women, raise them to stand up for others, and raise them to be kind.” - Shannon L. Alder

I’m not sure exactly when I became a feminist. Maybe it was when I realized how often women have to fight to be heard and the deep sense of injustice it brought up in me. Or perhaps I always was one, quietly absorbing how women have to advocate for themselves in order to get ahead.

What I do know is that becoming a mother to a boy and a partner to a man just now getting in touch with his own vulnerability is reframing it.

A few years ago, when we had some trouble getting pregnant, a friend of mine I very much admire suggested I purchase a toy or stuffed animal for my future child. Something I could look at and envision them — a spiritual “Welcome little one, I’m ready when you are.” The following week at a sweet children’s boutique, I was energetically drawn to a little grey elephant in a blue jumper. Something felt “sweet little boy” about it. I immediately connected to the idea of my unborn child, and something called me to him.

I’ve always been more comfortable around boys — likely due to exposure. I grew up with a younger brother and mostly cared for little boys after taking my babysitting course at twelve. I can’t recall ever changing a little girl’s diaper or dressing her in a sweet outfit.

As we progressed further into pregnancy, I started to like the idea of having a daughter. Probably there was some ego playing into the idea of creating a little version of myself, someone who I could help excel past the limits of my own experiences.

One day, a shaman at my parents’ place in Mexico, who has held ceremonies for our family over the years, guessed that I was carrying a strong, independent little girl.

I began to picture raising a young woman who could break down doors. A feminist who could fight for equality in a world that, although has certainly progressed, currently feels like it’s moving backwards for women and girls. I could raise a powerhouse woman to stand up for herself, and for those less fortunate.

But every single woman I know is a fighter. It made me wonder — is it really women who need to be stronger?

Is it up to the repressed to change things? Or the ones who hold privilege?

I’ve often sat in rooms full of women, at conferences or for panels, stats being rattled off about inequities and thought to myself “Women all know this. We need men to hear it.”

Women are still doing all the work, aren’t we?

I have also come to realize that the best thing I can do for women is to raise a feminist son.

When our beautiful son was born, I felt so incredibly blessed. My intuition from early on had been correct — I was to have a boy, after all.

There is no doubt that men continue to hold the majority of power in society. We see it in politics, in the list of richest billionaires on the planet. We see it in the division of labour in the home, and how women of our generation are doing everything we did before, PLUS work full time outside the home.

A few years ago I read a book called “For the Love of Men” by Liz Plank. Every few pages there was a line that made me stop in my tracks, including this one:

“If questioning the falsehoods women absorbed about themselves has led to so much social progress, imagine what reassessing the ones we hold about men could do.”

Rather than a strong woman, what if I raise a kind, brave, empathetic son?

A boy who’s allowed to cry and encouraged to self-soothe can become a man in touch with his emotions, who knows there’s more than anger to choose from.

I envision him as a protector — the kind of man who stands his ground, but who first approaches others with empathy and kindness. A man who will call out other men for an inappropriate remark, who will ensure women feel safe enough in his presence so we don’t have to live in our masculine to survive.

I don’t know if I’ll get it right. But I do know my goal is to teach him what it looks like when strength and softness coexist.

So far, he’s teaching me just as much — that being a feminist isn’t only about raising girls to be strong, but also about raising boys to be whole.

If women are able to reclaim softness, maybe men can learn to hold it too. Maybe that’s where equality begins.

What a gift, for a feminist like me.

It was just after 3am. Dark outside, the sky a stunning indigo - both close to black and far from it. That deep blue before dawn in late spring, when the sun rises early.

I sat on the couch in our apartment living room, gazing out the window at the building across the street. Wondering who else was awake. Not yet the woman in the penthouse apartment with a young child - the warm glow of her unit occasionally a companion to my late-night breastfeeding sessions.

In my arms: a sweet little baby boy, suckling away. Two months since emerging from my body, wreaking all kinds of havoc on life as I knew it, in both the craziest and best possible way. So peaceful, you wouldn’t have known that moments earlier we were both in a sweaty panic, red-faced, one of us screaming bloody murder (one of us wanting to, but thinking it would not constitute good mothering to join in).

In my ears: a just-dropped episode of The Daily from The New York Times. Probably about Trump. Maybe about another school shooting in the US. Or the Russian invasion of Ukraine.

Either way, definitely not the most peaceful choice. But somehow it reminded me that life continued to happen, that outside of my insular world, there were bigger problems. Reasons to keep fighting.

In my free hand: an iPhone 13, open to Instagram direct messages from an angry customer, furious she had to pay $2.99 a month to upgrade to the Premium version of my newly launched wellness app, Loba.

I thought to myself, “This is fun…” before attempting to craft a response that did not, in fact, involve calling her a cheap asshole.

I hadn’t planned on being a solo startup founder and getting pregnant at the same time. It just sort of happened that way.

Yes, we were trying to conceive. And yes, I was also working on the launch of an innovative, gorgeous hardware tech product and app that I invented, designed, and had manufactured.

But we had been trying to get pregnant for 18 months. And, in a previous iteration of our relationship, had an early pregnancy loss in 2019.

I never imagined pitching VC funds, or that I would end up getting pregnant after years of trying, just to give birth right as I was launching the brand.

Had I gotten pregnant when we first started trying, I’d have been one year postpartum before our launch hit the market.

Had it taken longer and I was able to raise capital without pumping at my desk in front of our developer and an intern in a 200 sqft office, everyone politely pretending not to hear the mechanical whirr-whirr of the pump pulling at my nipples - who knows.

But. Life has a way of challenging you. And what a great testament to the consistency of wellness that Loba offers on any health journey, fertility included.

See, the thing is, I’m a PCOS and uterine fibroids girly. My health challenges—and my experience navigating a system that can barely diagnose most female health issues, let alone address them properly— were actually what inspired me to create Loba in the first place.

I saw a gap - a white space - in supporting women by creating cherished daily rituals that would help them achieve better outcomes for health. I wanted to create a brand, a product, an experience that supported women who looked like me in taking their pills and supplements for better health.

Anyway, that’s not the story I’m here to tell. I’ve shared that story many times over the years with media.

I also shared this story when pitching investors, incubators, and venture capital. Of which I did a LOT.

Mostly, during my first year postpartum.

I wouldn’t recommend it.

The thing about maternity leave was that I never thought I’d enjoy a full year off. I don’t have the constitution for full-time mothering and nothing else.

The endless cycle of diapers, laundry, breastfeeding, pumping, rinse, repeat? Not for me — not unless I could also tap into strategy, creativity, production. I get satisfaction from a job done, not just a job endlessly repeating.

Knowing I wanted a child with my partner, years before, I had set up my boutique marketing agency, Armature Collective, to support a maternity leave of some kind. I’d saved enough to pay myself a full salary while also covering the gap left by Canada’s EI benefits when you earn over a certain threshold.

But because of Loba, it was my spouse who took six months off full-time, after my initial three-month healing process. It made more sense financially (he’s covered by EI, I’m not as a small business owner who pays herself on dividends), and there was so much momentum, so much opportunity with the start-up that we were both “in” on the decision. It felt like the right wave to ride.

So, in the name of opportunity, money and a vision of success - I got no time off.

Just some pretty challenging memories…

The time I traveled to Calgary for three nights, only three months postpartum. I spent over a thousand dollars on flights and a hotel and left my son behind to take the stage and pitch to a “room full of investors” at the culmination of a 12-week program for female-founded startups. (Yes, if you’re doing the math, I started the program the week after I gave birth)

It wasn’t until arrival that Program Leaders welcomed us to the two-day event by saying this wasn’t about hard pitches, but about “celebrating how far you’ve come.” I was there for money and the chance to be in front of investors - not for good vibes. Needless to say, I cried hard in the hotel shower that night.

Or how Loba was accepted to three different incubator programs at once. They all met weekly at the same times on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Not wanting to miss an opportunity, I would drop my six-month-old son at the gym daycare (read: germs!) and work for two hours in the gym café, hopping between Zoom calls.

There was also pumping in the car after driving to Squamish Summit for an Angel Forum pitch event, riding a gondola back down the mountain at lunch to relieve my very full breasts of the milk that had accumulated while I waited for my turn to pitch.

Looking back, I can honestly say mom guilt doesn’t play a role here. I don’t believe my baby lacked anything. We had part-time nannies and family support in the summer. Friends stepped in to bounce him in his chair or change a diaper while I logged into webinars. I was around, working from home. He came with me to the office often, and got as much breastmilk as my body could produce, for as long as it would produce.

What I’ve struggled with more is sadness.

Sadness for myself and what I lost during that time (aside from my sanity).

I didn’t miss the milestones like his first words, first steps.

What I grieve for are the quiet moments. Gazing out the window at 3am and simply being present, instead of thinking about “fucking Stephanie” from Loba’s Instagram DMs.

Instead of crying in the shower of some prairie hotel, I could have been curled up next to my newborn. Instead of standing on a stage for no good reason, my nervous system could have been enjoying a cup of tea while watching him snooze.

And then there were the countless hours spent prepping decks, practicing pitches with advisors, summoning the energy to perform each time I had to turn it “on” for a stage, literal or figurative.

I want that time back.

In the end, I took huge swings. Financially with the money I invested in the business (that’s another story). Relationally with my early investors, and my spouse carrying a heavy load himself.

Truly, it’s emotional and physical toll of doing all this while pregnant and postpartum that I haven’t recovered from, even 2.5 years later.

Did the big swing pay off? I’m not sure yet.

What I am sure of is that I can’t do this alone anymore. Not without access to the capital needed to scale. Not without the resources to reach a wider audience. Not without the tech support that might have afforded me the privilege of just breastfeeding in peace at 3am.

Not without the opportunities afforded to so many of my white, young, male counterparts in tech who have raised millions for far worse, half-baked ideas.

As I wind down operations at Loba and seek a strategic partner to support a wider audience, I can confidently say that the journey hasn’t looked how I hoped.

If I did it again, I’d have taken a proper leave. Maybe turned to part-time work in my boutique marketing agency when I needed intellectual stimulation and a break from spit-up and soothers.

Probably I would have spent more time gazing into the eyes of my little one. Probably I’d be less sad now at how much I missed then.

One thing’s for certain. If I did it again, I wouldn’t have found myself trying not to tell a cheap asshole what I really thought of her over Instagram DMs at three in the morning.

But yet, even in the chaos, there was growth. I know that because of this experience, I came out sharper, tougher, and more resilient than I ever imagined. I learned how to hold a baby in one arm and a business pitch in the other. I came away clearer on what really matters: the kind of work I want to do, the kind of mother I want to be, and what I am no longer willing to sacrifice in the name of ambition.

These days, I take a bit longer to reply to work emails. I sit with an idea before pouncing on it. I know what I have in me. I know what is worth the fight and what isn’t.

These lessons are mine to keep.

No matter what, that’s worth something.

Part reflection, part strategy, part storytelling. This is a space to think deeper about brand, ambition, and the pursuit of a life of purpose.

Aesthetics are at the heart of how I move through the world. Every business I build, every brand I shape, every decision I make is guided by a devotion to beauty, design, and meaning.

I refuse to buy into the idea that we are defined by just one aspect of ourselves.

Subscribe now

I am a business owner, yes. I am also:
an artist.
a creator.
a mother.
a mentor.
a lover.
a writer.

I’m not certain how this will come to fruition here on Substack. I’m new to the platform, but…

If any of this resonates, this is the space for you. Welcome.