The concrete walkways and identical doors of my 1970s council estate weren’t designed to nurture dreams. Growing up where hope felt as scarce as opportunity, I learned early that the world beyond our neighbourhood existed in stark contrast to our daily reality.

Few expected any of us to venture far beyond those familiar blocks. Yet something inside me refused to accept the limitations others saw as inevitable.

My journey took me from those modest beginnings to completing a psychology degree, then a Master’s in business—academic achievements that opened doors I once couldn’t imagine existed. But education was just the beginning.

Multiple business ventures followed, each one stretching my understanding of what was possible. I travelled, absorbing cultures and perspectives that transformed my worldview. With each success, each new horizon, I felt compelled to bring others along. I believed that by exchanging social capital, by creating bridges where none existed before, everyone could rise together.

Yet this path wasn’t without its shadows. Despite outward achievements, I grappled with low self-esteem, a persistent lack of confidence, and the constant whisper of imposter syndrome. “Who am I,” the voice would ask, “to guide others when I still have so much to learn myself?”