An evening of elegance and urgency: The Water Ball returns to New York

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On Tuesday October 21st, the iconic Cipriani 25 Broadway will open its doors to one of New York’s most anticipated philanthropic galas: The Water Ball, organized by the Georgie Badiel Foundation and hosted by Selita Ebanks and Jozef Naggiar. More than just an elegant evening, this event is a rallying cry for clean water access in Burkina Faso and beyond.

A personal story that sparked a movement

At the heart of this initiative is Georgie Badiel, former Miss Burkina Faso, international model, and humanitarian. As a child, she walked nearly nine miles every day to fetch water for her family. That experience inspired the bestselling children’s book The Water Princess and, ultimately, the creation of the Georgie Badiel Foundation.

A decade later, her vision has grown into a powerful, community-driven movement that continues to expand its impact across West Africa. The foundation builds and restores wells, trains women as water system maintainers, and brings safe, sustainable water access to rural communities across West Africa.

Culture, generosity, and impact

This year’s gala promises to be both elegant and deeply meaningful. The evening will feature live musical performances, powerful moments of gratitude, moving stories of impact, and special recognitions that highlight a decade of commitment to clean water access. Guests will also take part in an emotional pledge session, where they can directly contribute to well-building initiatives, and celebrate the individuals and partners whose support has sustained the Georgie Badiel Foundation’s mission over the years..

Yet behind the glamour of the night lies an urgent reality: 63% of rural communities in Burkina Faso still lack access to clean water, and more than 5,000 wells remain broken and out of service. Each year, over 4,000 children die from preventable water-related diseases.

Every dollar raised at The Water Ball fuels concrete, life-changing solutions — building and restoring wells, creating oases, supporting hygiene education, and advancing female-led water management that strengthens entire communities.    Get your tickets here

Numbers that speak for themselves

Over the past decade, the Georgie Badiel Foundation has grown from a single vision into a transformative force on the ground. Its work has reached more than 600,000 people, touching communities across rural Burkina Faso and beyond. Through 278 community projects, the foundation has not only built essential infrastructure but also invested in people—training 278 women to maintain water systems and ensure their sustainability. It has educated over 15,000 students on water, sanitation, and hygiene, and has built or restored more than 265 wells and 15 oases, creating lasting impact where it matters most.

A collective vision for change

The Water Ball has become more than a fundraiser. It’s a cultural moment. Each year, it brings together African professionals, entrepreneurs, allies, and change makers from across the U.S. diaspora who share one goal: investing in real, community-centered solutions.

As the lights dim and the pledges rise, The Water Ball stands as far more than a gala. It’s a powerful demonstration of how art, culture, and collective generosity can drive real change. Year after year, the event mobilizes a growing network of changemakers determined to turn a basic human need into a shared responsibility. To dive deeper into this vision, I sat down with Georgie Badiel to talk about her journey and her fight for clean water. You can listen to the full interview  below.

Together, we’re amplifying a message that goes beyond one night of fundraising. It’s about building a future where no child walks miles for water, and every community has access to this most essential resource.

Daring peace: Sant’egidio’s method of dialogue in a world at war

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At a time when more than fifty armed conflicts rage across the globe, the urgency of peace could not be clearer. This was the message brought to New York University’s Casa Italiana Zerilli-Marimò, where Marco Impagliazzo, President of the Community of Sant’Egidio, delivered a powerful lecture entitled Daring Peace. The event, which also featured remarks from Andrea Bartoli, president of the Sant’Egidio Foundation for Peace and Dialogue and a Columbia University scholar, offered both a historical perspective and a call to action for peace building in today’s fractured world.

Sant’egidio’s legacy

Founded in Rome in 1968, Sant’Egidio is a lay Catholic movement rooted in prayer, service to the poor, and the pursuit of peace. Today, it is active in over 70 countries, working with marginalized communities while also mediating conflicts on the international stage. Its best-known achievement remains the Mozambique peace agreement of 1992, a landmark example of how patient dialogue can end years of bloodshed. Since then, Sant’Egidio has been involved in numerous other efforts, including initiatives in Algeria in the 1990s, and more recently in South Sudan.

The human cost of war

Professor Impagliazzo underscored why the theme of peace is so pressing today. In every war, he reminded the audience, “the first victims are the defenseless: children, women, the elderly, the disabled, and the poor.” War, he said, “continues to kill long after it has ended,” leaving deep wounds in societies where almost all casualties are civilians. Whether in Syria, Yemen, Libya, or South Sudan, the devastation has counted in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of lives lost or displaced.

Quoting Pope Pius XII’s famous words “everything is lost in war, nothing is lost in peace”, he invited listeners to reflect on the futility of violence and the enduring hope that dialogue offers.

The path of peace

From Mozambique’s experience, Impagliazzo emphasized that “peace is not achieved with a magic wand. It is built little by little.” Far from being naïve, peace requires realism, sacrifice, and perseverance. War may feel more instinctive, more logical, especially when fueled by the mentality of victimhood, but as he reminded the audience, “war begins long before weapons are used. Hate and propaganda begin in the mind.”

Building peace, therefore, means confronting the culture of the enemy and daring to see the other not as a stranger but as a brother. He stressed: “peacemaking is not synonymous with surrender. Politics can achieve what war cannot. History teaches us that war does not resolve crises; it multiplies them through revenge and more wars.”

Friendship as resistance

What can ordinary people do in such a bleak context? Impagliazzo urged resistance to hatred and nationalism. He insisted on the underestimated power of friendship, sympathy, and human connection: “We need the force of sympathy. We need to stop people from being infected with hatred. True resistance is taking the time to understand each other, exploring other ways, and giving peace a chance.”

Peace, he concluded, is inseparable from hope. “There is no peace without hope, but peace itself gives hope”. He adds that those who believe in peace are not the idealists. They are the realists. The true idealists are those who think you can magically solve problems through war.

A call to action

One distinctive aspect of Sant’Egidio’s method is confidentiality: creating discreet spaces where adversaries can meet, listen, and begin to articulate a shared vision for peace. Much of its work takes place away from the headlines, but its quiet impact has transformed nations.

In our current environment where the temptation to resort to arms remains strong, Sant’Egidio’s example is a reminder that the courage to dialogue is perhaps the most daring and the most necessary form of resistance.

 

 

 

Yvonne Aki-Sawyerr: From Transforming Freetown to Eyeing Sierra Leone’s Presidency

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In the latest episode of Atypical Journey, I had the privilege of sitting down with Madam Yvonne Aki-Sawyerr, the Mayor of Freetown, Sierra Leone. Our conversation was not only about her journey, but also about courage, resilience, and the bold vision it takes to lead change in Africa today.

A Journey rooted in service

Before becoming mayor in 2018, Yvonne Aki-Sawyerr built a successful career in the UK’s financial sector. But her story has always been tied to service. From her student days campaigning against conflict diamonds, to founding a nonprofit that has supported young people for over two decades, she has consistently used her skills and voice to uplift others.

Her defining moment came during the 2014 Ebola outbreak, when she left London to return home and volunteer on the frontlines. That choice reshaped her trajectory and eventually set her on the path to public office.

Transform Freetown: a bold vision

As mayor, she launched the Transform Freetown agenda, a plan that gained international attention for its ambitious approach to climate action, sanitation, housing, and youth employment. Under her leadership, the city planted 1.2 million trees, built its first wastewater treatment facility, digitized property tax systems, and created thousands of jobs for young people.

These are not small achievements. They represent a vision of leadership that is both practical and transformational, proving that local government can deliver real impact when driven by passion and accountability.

Breaking barriers for women in leadership

Mayor Aki-Sawyerr is also one of the few female mayors on the African continent. She spoke candidly about the stereotypes and barriers women face in politics, and how representation matters. Her example shows that leadership is not about gender. It’s about capacity, integrity, and vision. Through the YAS Leadership Foundation, she is now mentoring teenage girls in Sierra Leone to step into leadership with confidence.

A bold new chapter

During our conversation, she shared news that goes beyond her role as mayor: Yvonne Aki-Sawyerr has officially announced her intention to run for President of Sierra Leone. Inspired by trailblazers like  H.E Ellen Johnson Sirleaf,  H.E Netumbo Nandi-Ndaitwah, she is stepping into history with the same determination that has defined her career.

Why this matters

Our exchange reminded me why Atypical Journey exists: to shine a light on leaders who are rewriting the narrative and daring to break barriers. Madam Mayor’s story is not only about Freetown or Sierra Leone. It is about what is possible when vision meets courage.

As she joins other women leaders in New York this week for the High-Level Forum on Women’s Political Leadership, organized by AWLN on the margins of the United Nations General Assembly, her message is clear: “These platforms give women the courage to step forward, because someone has done it before. And when we see that, we know it’s possible.”

Women leaders gather in New York for high-level forum on political leadership

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New York, September 27, 2025 — The Africa Women Leaders Network (AWLN) is set to host a landmark high-level forum on women’s political leadership in New York, on the margins of the 80th Session of  United Nations General Assembly(UNGA80). This event will bring together government delegates, parliamentarians, civil society actors, and youth leaders to chart a bold path forward for women’s leadership across Africa and the world under the theme, “High-Level Africa Women’s Leadership Forum: Advancing Women’s Political Leadership in Africa.”

Background

The timing of the forum is both symbolic and urgent. It comes as the international community reflects on the 30th anniversary of the Beijing Declaration, a milestone agreement that set the global agenda for gender equality. While progress has been made since 1995, across Africa, women are increasingly taking up leadership roles in governance, business, civil society, academia, and community development. Despite progress, barriers such as gender inequality, limited access to resources, and underrepresentation in decision-making spaces persist. The High-Level Africa Women Leadership Forum seeks to provide a platform for dialogue, networking, and strategic action to amplify women’s voices and leadership across sectors.

This gathering will therefore focus on accelerating change, not only by celebrating trailblazers but also by building alliances, mobilizing resources, and equipping women to step into political leadership.

The Africa Facility for Women in Political Leadership

Central to this effort is the Africa Facility for Women in Political Leadership, a flagship initiative in partnership with the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) and the African Union (AU) under AWLN’s Governance and Political Participation pillar. The initiative aims to create a robust support system for women in politics through:

  • Leveraging leadership training to strengthen campaign management,
  • Conducting research and policy analysis to dismantle structural barriers
  • Establishing safe spaces to protect women against gender-based political violence

Distinguished leaders and trailblazers

The Forum will feature the voices of prominent leaders who have shaped the course of women’s leadership in Africa and globally, including:

  • H.E. Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Former President of the Republic of Liberia & AWLN Patron
  • H.E. Sahle-Work Zewde, Former President of the Republic of Ethiopia & AWLN Elder
  • H.E. Amina Mohammed, Deputy Secretary-General of the United Nations
  • Ms. Ahunna Eziakonwa, Assistant Administrator, Assistant Secretary General, and Director of the UNDP Regional Bureau for Africa

A platform for change

Beyond the policy discussions and institutional frameworks, this Forum is above all a gathering of women who carry stories, resilience, and vision. From presidents to young leaders, their presence in New York is a reminder that every step forward is hard-won, and every voice matters.

As the world reflects on 30 years since Beijing, this moment is not only about commitments: it is about courage, solidarity, and the belief that when women lead, the entire societies rise.

Charlie Kirk’s death and the hypocrisy of tolerance

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Charlie Kirk’s assassination is a tragedy period. A young man, barely 31 years old, gunned down while doing what he always did: speaking his truth in public. I did not agree with Charlie on everything. I often found his stance on guns too extreme, his nationalism too rigid, his immigration policies too harsh for someone like me, an immigrant who knows the long wait and the sacrifices to build a life here, and much more. But admiration does not require blind loyalty. I followed him because he was sharp, brilliant in debate, and unafraid to say what he believed, even when it made him unpopular. That courage deserves respect.

What devastates me more than the bullet that ended his life is the reaction I see from many who claim the banner of tolerance. Celebrating a man’s death because he was your political opponent is not justice. It is cruelty. It is hypocrisy. To mock his death because he opposed gun control is to treat a tragedy as a punchline. To cheer because you disliked his worldview is to reveal that your so-called tolerance was only a mask, one that falls the moment someone dares to think differently. And this celebration is not harmless noise on the internet; it reflects a deeper sickness in our society, a culture that has lost the ability to separate disagreement from dehumanization.

This is bigger than Charlie Kirk. This is about who we are becoming as a society. We are entering a dangerous age where disagreement equals dehumanization, where debate is replaced by cancellation, and where violence is justified if the target is the “enemy.” But what future can we build on that foundation? If every life is only as valuable as its ideology, then none of us are safe. The same logic that excuses violence against one opponent today can be used to excuse violence against another tomorrow. A society that normalizes selective empathy is a society that prepares its own downfall.

And let us not forget: Charlie Kirk was not only a commentator; he was a husband and the father of two young children. Behind the headlines and the controversies is a family whose life has been irreparably shattered. Two children will now grow up without their father, a wife will bury her partner, and yet some among us see only a political victory. If we cannot pause to recognize the human cost of this tragedy, then our moral compass is broken beyond repair.

I am African, I am Christian, I am an immigrant, and I hold views that put me on neither extreme of the political spectrum. I believe in compassion for the vulnerable and in responsibility for the able. I believe in protecting life while respecting pluralism. I believe in family, faith, democracy, fairness and individual freedom. And precisely because of those values, I cannot stand by silently when hatred masquerades as justice. Democracy itself cannot survive if we only grant empathy to those who agree with us. Freedom means nothing if we use it to cheer the silencing of others.

Charlie Kirk is gone, but the real test remains for the rest of us: will we use moments like this to deepen the spiral of division, or will we step back and remember the humanity of those we oppose? If we cannot mourn the death of someone we disagreed with, then we have lost something far greater than a political battle. We have lost our soul. And if a nation loses its soul, no amount of progress, no accumulation of wealth, and no victories in the culture wars will save it from collapse.

  We are not moving forward. We are marching backward into barbarism.

The Killing of Iryna Zarutska

Killing of Iryna Zarutska: violence, racism, and the silence around Us

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A death that should haunt us all

I’ve seen too much online to think that a single video could still shake me. But the footage of Iryna Zarutska’s final moments did. She was just minding her business on a train, when her life was suddenly stolen. The way she looked up at her attacker in shock and fear, the way she clutched herself and cried into her hands while people sat around in silence. The scene broke something in me.

She didn’t die instantly. She bled, terrified, as if waiting for someone, anyone, to acknowledge her humanity. But no one did. Men and women sat feet away, eyes glued to their phones, unwilling to lift a finger. Some even stood up and walked past her without so much as a glance. That image of indifference in the face of dying haunts me as much as the attack itself.

And what makes it unbearable is knowing she had fled a war in her homeland, only to be killed in a place where she thought she might find safety. The cruelty of that irony is almost too much to bear.

The tired excuse of “mental illness”

We’ve all heard it before: the attacker was “mentally ill.” I reject that explanation outright. Evil is not a medical condition. When someone has been arrested fourteen times for violent behavior and is still walking the streets, that’s not about health. It’s about a broken justice system.

North Carolina had the chance to keep this man contained, but instead, he was free to take a life. And he’s not the only one. Just months ago, another repeat offender killed three people in New York without provocation. How many times must we read the same headline before we admit that this pattern of leniency is a policy failure? A society that values excuses over accountability is a society that chooses predators over victims.

When racism finds its opportunity

As if her death wasn’t painful enough, the aftermath was poisoned further by the reaction online. Scroll through the comments under censored versions of the video and you’ll find an avalanche of racism:

  • “Survived war but not black America.”

  • “They should introduce white and black sections on public transport again.”

  • “These people were the worst purchase in American history.”

There are hundreds like these. One man commits a crime, and suddenly an entire race is on trial. Racists wait for these moments, lurking in the shadows, ready to seize on tragedy as their green light to spew hatred. They don’t care about Iryna, they don’t care about justice. They wait for moments like this, tragedies that should unite people in grief and outrage, and instead they twist them into weapons to validate their hate, to stigmatize, and feed their ideology.

As a Black woman, I cannot describe the exhaustion of watching this cycle. Racists grab onto the worst behavior of a single Black man and inflate it into a narrative about all Black people.We are not a monolith. We are not represented by the worst among us. And yet, the moment one of “ours” commits a horrific act, it’s suddenly open season. The hate pours out eager to say “See, we told you so.”

Our own responsibility

Still, the death of Iryna Zarutska forces hard questions within the Black community, too.We can’t keep pretending that violent criminals don’t come from our own community, or that every act of brutality can be explained away by “systemic racism.” That excuse is tired, and it hasn’t saved us.

The reality is that too many Black neighborhoods are ruled by fear. People are scared of their own neighbors, the very people we love to excuse. Why do the most successful Black families do is leave the hood? They don’t want to raise their kids around gangs, dysfunction, and violence. And let’s be honest: the danger is real, and denying it only makes it worse.

If we want progress, we’ve got to break the cycle ourselves. Stop glorifying thugs. Stop raising kids where crime is the soundtrack of daily life. Stop living off government scraps and calling it survival. That’s not “cheating the system.” That’s doing exactly what the system designed you to do: stay stuck, stay dependent, stay powerless.

We can’t rewrite slavery, but we sure as hell don’t need to keep reenacting its consequences. At some point, we have to choose a different path. One where our children inherit discipline, opportunity, and pride instead of excuses, poverty, and fear.

The Political orphanhood of african immigrant voters and Why this NYC race feels different

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African immigrants in New York City live a paradox. We are visible in the workforce, in churches, in community associations — yet invisible when political campaigns draw their maps. We are nurses, Uber drivers, small business owners, home health aides, engineers, and teachers. We fill the city’s arteries with our labor. But politically, we remain unclaimed.

Split between two incomplete choices

We do not vote as a bloc. Some of us lean toward the Democratic Party because of its pro-immigration policies. Others quietly agree with Republican rhetoric on personal responsibility, entrepreneurship, and the dignity of hard work. But neither party has fully spoken to us. Democrats too often stop at representation and identity politics. Posing for photos in our cultural clothing, but rarely returning to discuss policy after the campaign is over. Republicans often speak to our values on work and family, but alienate us with rhetoric and policies that seem blind to our immigrant realities.

This is why, even in deep-blue New York, I have met African voters — many of them first-generation immigrants — who were drawn to Donald Trump. Not because they embraced every policy or every word, but because he spoke, loudly and unapologetically, about work, affordability, and the feeling that “everyday people” had been forgotten. In immigrant barber shops in the Bronx, over attiéké in Harlem restaurants, and in Sunday church gatherings, I have heard uncles and aunties say the same thing: “I don’t agree with everything, but he talks about real life.”

Our political orphanhood is compounded by the way our lives straddle two worlds. We send money back home while paying sky-high rent here. We juggle double shifts not only to survive, but to build enough credit to own a home. We dream of starting businesses but spend months navigating city bureaucracy. Many of us are registered to vote, yet don’t see ourselves in campaign messaging, so we quietly abstain.

A different kind of leftist candidate

That is why the candidacy of Assemblymember Zohran Mamdani feels different. He is from the left, yet his campaign is not built on baiting controversial identity battles and baseless fear mongering. Instead, he is talking about the kitchen-table issues that shape the lives of working-class families: fare-free buses so workers keep more of their paycheck; rent-stabilization that actually protects tenants; higher wages that match the real cost of living in New York; universal childcare so parents can work without fear of losing everything to daycare bills.

These are not abstract promises. They touch daily life. For the Ghanaian home health aide in the Bronx who spends $132 a month on a MetroCard. For the Senegalese father in Queens who pays half his salary in rent. For the young Burkinabè graduate in Harlem juggling two part-time jobs because entry-level wages can’t cover student loans.

In my 11 years in the United States, I have seen many politicians pass through our spaces: shaking hands, speaking a few words in our languages, posing for photos, only to vanish after Election Day. I have never felt truly comfortable aligning with one, until now. Not because of party loyalty, but because the conversation is about life, not labels.

This race is not about left versus right, progressive versus moderate. It is about whether New York City can elect a leader who understands that its future depends on those who still believe in its promise enough to keep building here. The African diaspora in NYC is large enough to matter, diverse enough to shape outcomes, and tired of being politically invisible. This election could be the moment we step forward.

Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and the moral duty to remember: 80 years later, the work of peace remains

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On August 6, 1945, and again three days later on August 9th, the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki became silent witnesses to the darkest potential of human invention, and the world changed forever. Two bombs. Over 200,000 lives lost. And with them, the illusion that humanity could wield absolute power without consequence.

The threat of nuclear conflict is no longer a distant memory

Eighty years have passed since those harrowing days, and the scars are still visible. On landscapes, bodies, and collective memory. But remembrance alone is not enough.

In 2025, the threat of nuclear conflict is no longer a distant memory but a terrifying possibility. Global powers are modernizing their arsenals. Nuclear weapons echo in war rhetoric. Missiles are being tested. Wars in Gaza, Sudan, or Ukraine remind us how quickly violence escalates, how human life becomes collateral. Hiroshima is not ancient history. It is a mirror held up to today.

That’s why the Community of Sant’Egidio alongside the Archdiocese of Nagasaki is organizing a  Vigil for Peace from August 5 to 8, 2025. Two symbolic chapels: the Chapel of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Mary in New York, and the Chapel of Our Lady of Nagasaki in Japan  will remain open day and night, as spiritual beacons of memory and hope.

It is not just a commemorative gesture; it is an act of resistance. For 75 continuous hours, people of different faiths and backgrounds will gather to pray, to reflect, and to recommit to peace. The vigil will stretch across time zones, linking the Basilica of Urakami ground zero of the second atomic bombing to cathedrals and community spaces across the globe.

The work of peace is not naïve. It is disciplined.

The Community of Sant’Egidio is not new to the work of peace. From brokering the 1992 peace accords in Mozambique, to interreligious dialogues in Sudan, Ukraine, and the Democratic Republic of Congo, their legacy proves that peace is not a naïve dream but a courageous discipline. Their presence at the site of unspeakable suffering is a reminder: the work of healing does not belong only to history, it belongs to us.

What began with a prophecy of annihilation must now evolve into a promise of solidarity. Hiroshima and Nagasaki are not just cautionary tales. They are the result of power unchecked, of grief unspoken, of silence turned into complicity. But they are also stories of survival, resilience, and the sacred urgency of saying “never again.”

Let us not forget that the statue of Our Lady of Nagasaki, charred and cracked from the blast, now stands as a symbol of hope and intercession. From her scorched hands to ours, the torch of peace must be carried forward.

On this anniversary, remembrance is not passive. It is a moral stance. A commitment to choose peace where others choose force. To defend life where others gamble with death. To speak truth where silence is more convenient.

80 years later, Hiroshima still asks the same question:
Will we remember enough to ensure it never happens again?

When a man cheats, he’s a Villain. When a woman cheats, she vanishes.

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There’s something almost cinematic about it: a CEO and a CPO caught on Kiss cam at a Coldplay concert. The crowd cheers. The camera lingers. And just like that, what looked like a rom-com scene explodes into a corporate scandal.

But let’s be honest: this story isn’t just about two high-level executives breaking their company’s code of conduct. It’s about how we, as a culture, decide who gets held accountable and who gets quietly edited out of the frame.

The names we remember. And the ones we erase.

The CEO of Astronomer, Andy Byron, has become internet cannon fodder. Think pieces, tweets, memes. His name is everywhere, cast as the powerful married man and father who crossed a line. And yes, that’s true. But what about Kristin Cabot, the Chief People Officer caught being cozy with him? Where is her headline?

Early reports carefully mentioned omitted her name. Even more telling: few acknowledged that she, too, is married to Andrew Cabot, CEO of Privateer Rum and has children as well. That fact only surfaced through secondary reporting and was quickly brushed aside. Many days after the scandal broke, even as both executives were placed on leave and Byron ultimately resigned, major outlets still tread carefully around Cabot. One the latest NBC article  stated they had not confirmed her identity — while the public had already flooded her LinkedIn profile days earlier.

The feminist loophole: accountability-free womanhood

We’re constantly told that feminism is about equality. Equal pay. Equal power. Equal opportunity. Great. But what about equal accountability?

Kristin Cabot isn’t a junior employee. She’s the head of people, the executive who literally oversees workplace ethics, behavior, and internal policy. She is, in many ways, the moral gatekeeper of the company. And yet, when she breaks those same standards, the media treats her like a side character in her own scandal.

It’s a dynamic I’ve seen too many times  in politics, in media, in our everyday social discourse: when a man messes up, we drag him. When a woman does, we explain her, protect her, or we forget her entirely.

This is why people are losing faith in the equality conversation

We cannot keep pretending this doesn’t have consequences.

There is a growing number of men, especially young men  who feel alienated by what they perceive as a one-sided moral code. And while I don’t subscribe to the rage of Red Pill culture, I understand its fuel: they’re watching how public narratives are shaped, and they’re not wrong to notice the double standards.

If a man cheats, he’s a monster. If a woman cheats, we’re told it’s complicated.

If a man in power violates ethics, it’s a headline.

If a woman in power does the same, it’s a PR footnote.

That’s not empowerment. That’s inconsistency.

If we want integrity, we need symmetry.

This isn’t about punishing women to make things “fair.” It’s about telling the truth with balance. If we’re serious about building an ethical workplace culture or a culture of trust at all, then women must be as answerable as men. Especially when they hold power.

Kristin Cabot doesn’t need to be destroyed.

She doesn’t need to be vilified.

She just needs to be acknowledged.

Because erasing her role in this scandal isn’t feminist: it’s dishonest. And that dishonesty? It’s why people tune out when we talk about equality. It’s why some are starting to believe it was never about equality in the first place.

If you’re going to hold the CEO accountable,you hold the CPO accountable too. Not because she’s a woman. But because she’s responsible.

The soulless ChatGPT posts: have we gone too far?

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“As technology advances, it reverses the characteristics of every situation again and again. The age of automation is going to be the age of ‘do it yourself.’” Marshall McLuhan

I’ve been thinking about this quote I studied back in undergrad. And the more I think of ChatGPT, the more it resonates.

It’s amazing how powerful AI has become. It saves time, enhances creativity, and every day I’m learning new things it can do: interior design, generating content and images, coding, building business strategies, designing logos, writing scripts, creating outlines, drafting contracts… and the list keeps growing.

But if anyone can produce work instantly, if anyone can write posts and sound like an expert on any topic, then what becomes of the value of human work? Of human thought? What becomes of the importance of a job, or the depth that comes with lived experience?

Has generative AI created conformity and slowly killed human value?

Well you see, McLuhan’s quote reflects his broader idea: technological change isn’t linear, it’s dialectical. He believed that every medium or technology, when pushed far enough, eventually reverses its effects. This is part of his concept called “the tetrad of media effects,” where every technology:

• Enhances something,
• Obsoletes something,
• Retrieves something from the past,
• And reverses into its opposite when overextended.

So yes AI is a gift. But it won’t and shouldn’t prevent us from using our brains. For those who are already thoughtful, it does the things that consume time so we can focus on what really matters, what we’re best at.

What I call a soulless ChatGPT post is easy to spot:

  • It’s grammatically correct.
  • It flows well.
  • It has good ideas.
  • Polished but robotic.
  • No soul. No real voice. Just… bland.
  • All the titles sound the same. The sentence structure is the same.
  • Sounds like a Wikipedia article with plenty of stock emojis: ✨💼📈🔥🙌📊✅

Don’t get me wrong ChatGPT is a powerful tool. But you have to be smart with it. Joanna Maciejewska said:

“I want AI to do my laundry and dishes so that I can do art and writing, not for AI to do my art and writing so that I can do my laundry and dishes.”

Sounds a bit extreme and unrealistic,  but maybe she has a point. We can think about it differently: all of the things that take more time but aren’t central to the originality of your thought or the uniqueness of your perspective or creativity, have ChatGPT do it. Consider those things “the dishes”and now focus on adding the great stuff that makes you a unique voice.

For the love of God, stop giving one vague sentence to ChatGPT and letting it write your whole post.

We can tell can tell it’s a Chat GPT post. It doesn’t bring any value because not only we see the same posts everywhere but we can literally do the same thing you did. Head over to Chat GPT and tell him to “Write a post about X,Y,Z”

Use better prompts. ChatGPT isn’t magic.
Stop being lazy with your prompts. Stop typing lazy stuff like “Write a post about leadership.” One vague sentence will get you a vague post. You want something good? Give context, tone, structure, even examples. Feed it as you would a collaborator, not a vending machine.

Use AI to expand and facilitate your work.
Use it for research, for outlines, to organize your ideas. Use it for things you already care about deeply, have knowledge and perspective on. That way, ChatGPT becomes an addition to the burning fire inside you. That’s how you go from “meh” to “this actually sounds like me.”

Don’t fake what you don’t know.
If you’re clueless about a topic, don’t use AI to bluff your way through. If you want to speak on a subject you’re not familiar with, do your research. Learn the complexities and nuances of the topic. Gain some experience, read the experts, and reflect on it. It’s fine that ChatGPT helped you write it, but it will make a huge difference when the post has a fresh and singular outlook.
Because nothing screams “I copied this” louder than a confident-sounding post that says… nothing new.

And finally: if it doesn’t sound like you, it’s not good.
Copying and pasting the first draft ChatGPT gives you is like serving a frozen meal at a dinner party. The first draft is rarely the best. If the tone, the examples, the vocabulary don’t reflect how you think or express yourself, that’s your sign it’s not ready. Read it out loud. If it feels stiff, generic, or like anyone could’ve written it, rewrite it. Ask it to rephrase. Change the angle. Push back. Good writing is rewriting, even with AI.

Technology is amazing because it allows us to focus on what really matters. But don’t forget: the soul of your work should still come from you.

And by the way, ChatGPT lies a lot. Make sure to always fact-check and don’t embarrass yourself. 😉 If you’re citing studies, quotes, or numbers, verify them. ChatGPT is smart, but it hallucinates confidently.