What Can a Woman in Business Do Without Even Realizing She Can? by Sonja Kapetanovic

As an entrepreneur managing a company of 30 employees, a wife, and a mother of three boys, I often find myself reflecting on the common thread that runs through my relationships—with my employees, my business partners, and my family.

As an entrepreneur managing a company of 30 employees, a wife, and a mother of three boys, I often find myself reflecting on the common thread that runs through my relationships—with my employees, my business partners, and my family.

We are often led by the pursuit of success, a notion so tightly intertwined with the pressure of infallibility that it becomes impossible to separate the two. But this pursuit is not just exhausting—it is profoundly harmful to our inner being.

I began to notice a latent aggression that subtly infiltrated my interactions, difficult to pinpoint yet undeniably present. It revealed itself in the demands I placed on my colleagues, in the pressure exerted during negotiations, in the unspoken weight of expectation.

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I recall a period when my children were small, when I was running two companies in two different countries while rigorously training for a triathlon—twelve hours of training per week. I genuinely believed I had not only my own life but a significant portion of the world under control. What a grand illusion of ego—that belief in one’s own power, the delusion of mastering the future.

But such control is illusory, and ultimately, it is detrimental—especially for us, women, whose very essence is rooted in nurture, though at the time, I was blind to this truth.

Reality struck in the span of 75 harrowing seconds—the length of my youngest son’s epileptic seizure. As I knelt beside him, powerless, watching his body convulse, his face drained of color from oxygen deprivation, I grasped the depth of our helplessness in the face of fate. And more than that, I recognized that our pride, the armor we wear, is in fact our greatest vulnerability. It does not shield us from the painful realization that life unfolds beyond the confines of our meticulous plans.

Life is not a mere collection of accomplishments; it is the sum of experiences and emotions we encounter along the way. And it is from these—not from the end results—that our fulfillment is drawn.

When I finally understood that, in both my professional and personal roles, I had fragmented myself into mere functions—severing my connection with my own nurturing nature—I consciously began to reintroduce gentleness into my daily interactions.

Until then, I had, perhaps with a touch of satisfaction, noted the wariness men displayed when engaging with me—the careful choice of their words, the measured tone of their conversations. But when I softened my approach, something remarkable happened: suddenly, everything became easier.

That shift rippled into my home as well. Gradually, I became more at ease, more composed, more intuitive in my decision-making—and paradoxically, I made fewer mistakes.

It was not success that taught me this lesson, but hardship—the trial of caring for a sick child who did not need a high-achieving mother, but rather one overflowing with love and understanding.

We are, above all, social beings. Our résumés and business accomplishments come only after our connection—to ourselves and to others.

We do not sacrifice success by embracing gentleness. Tenderness does not undermine our capacity for making decisions, nor does it dampen our ambition.

Nor does it render us weaker in the eyes of other women—or of men. Quite the contrary: this gentleness should be recognized as a wellspring of strength.

Do not fear that ambition will wane, or that competitors will gain the upper hand. The only real threat to a successful woman who lacks gentleness is the slow, imperceptible erosion of her own soul.

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