By Stephanie De Maio, Engineer in Training, Civil Engineer, Scovan
FROM A YOUNG AGE, I LEARNED TWO THINGS ABOUT BEING A WOMAN
The first was that we are vulnerable – more susceptible to danger, more at risk, and more emotionally expressive. The second was that we should be strong – successful, composed, exceptional.
These two ideas became intertwined. Not just something to understand, but a standard to live up to. It seemed that my vulnerability was a weakness to be suppressed to achieve success. Growing up surrounded by capable women, who had battled the unimaginable to be successful, the idea of being unexceptional was not a possibility. Alongside gratitude for the opportunities I had, came an internal pressure to pursue something great.
BEING AVERAGE DIDN’T FEEL LIKE AN OPTION
I spent much of my time in male-dominated environments. Starting martial arts at the age of nine, combined with early growth spurts, meant I was bigger and stronger than most of the boys around me. I felt capable but not feminine – at least, not in the way I thought I was supposed to be.
As I got older, that feeling evolved into something quieter but heavier.
In those environments – both in sport and at work – I often felt like I was the only one experiencing fear or doubt. The one overthinking. The one overwhelmed. The one getting emotional. After many sparring sessions, I would sit in the bathroom and cry from frustration while the men beside me seemed to move through those moments without hesitation – without, what I perceived in myself, as weakness.
It took time, and the honest insights of male fighters, to realize that wasn’t true. They weren’t without vulnerability – they were simply taught to express it differently.
I was originally introduced to martial arts because I was a woman. Because I was told I should know how to protect myself. I became immensely grateful for the skillset because I needed it on multiple occasions. However, my training felt like it came from a place of vulnerability as I prepared myself for the worst.
OVER TIME, SOMETHING SHIFTED
I started to view my skillset as something that made me capable – something that gave me confidence, not just protection. I came to crave the opportunity to perform under pressure and to test my ability to remain composed and execute with intention. I learned that courage and vulnerability are not in opposition.
I had misunderstood strength as emotional suppression, unwavering confidence and dominance. But that version is brittle. It cracks under real pressure. My perspective evolved to include the awareness of fear, acceptance of pain, and honesty about my own limitations.
It became less about reacting to fear, and more about stepping into it voluntarily. At the same time, I was building a career in engineering. One where I was told by people I respected, that fighting in a cage, my sport, might not align with my professional image. That people may judge it and that it could take away from how seriously I was perceived, or how highly I was valued.
I couldn’t ignore the irony. The very thing that gave me confidence, taught me discipline and resilience was the thing that, in their mind, would “hurt” my professional career.
I approached my coach with my dilemma – was it possible to succeed in both avenues of my life? His response stayed with me.
He said, “Steph, for those that understand you, there is no explanation needed, and for those that do not, no explanation is possible.”
That compelled me to reconsider my definition of success. I had to accept that being judged was a real possibility. There is a chance that others would not be on board with my fighting. But I came to realize that their judgement doesn’t define my success.
I concluded success was not about outcomes, winning, titles, or proving to others I was exceptional. Instead, success is being proud of who I become when things are uncomfortable, when I feel exposed, unsure or scared, and when I interact with people who don’t know me, who don’t understand me.
I find satisfaction by staying connected with myself and the person I want to be. To me, being vulnerable means honestly accepting and evaluating my internal states so I can navigate challenges with support and clarity. I have learned that strength doesn’t come from avoiding vulnerability – it comes from embracing it. And failure doesn’t come from losing or falling short – it comes from walking away from something that matters to you.
This became more evident to me during the International Women’s Day event hosted by Scovan this year. I was fortunate to have the opportunity to moderate and interview a panel of accomplished women whose honesty about the obstacles they’ve faced – both personal and professional – left a lasting impression. They shared moments of triumph and struggle, and how resilience can follow vulnerability.
In hearing their experiences, I was reminded that our identities are complex and multidimensional. There isn’t one way to be a woman. It is possible to be feminine and strong, emotional and courageous, uncertain and confident, nurturing and ambitious. These dichotomies are difficult to put into a box, and yet so often we try because it is easier, more predictable, more comfortable.
It is often challenging to accept, but the truth is, both can exist at once.
For a long time, I believed vulnerability was something to overcome in order to have courage and resilience. Now, I’m beginning to understand that vulnerability doesn’t erode strength – it reveals it.
Originally published in IGNITE V12
