This past week, I attended a diversity and inclusion conference. It's the kind of event where you would hope to feel safe and empowered. Yet, in my experience as a CEO and advocate, such spaces don’t always live up to their ideals.
Throughout my career, I’ve encountered many forms of discrimination—misogyny, sexual harassment, and biases rooted in both my disability and my sexuality. It happens far too often in professional settings. And, as much as I pride myself on being outspoken about discrimination, I find myself struggling to respond in the moment when it’s happening to me.
I thought my wheelchair might protect me from sexual harassment. Perhaps it was a physical barrier between me and them. But I was wrong.
Last year, I attended an event as part of Wales Week in London. It was held at one of the embassies—a high-profile affair, with many important people. During the event, I experienced sexual harassment from three different men.
One man, after learning about my family and my company, handed me his hotel key and asked if I would join him later. I was shocked, especially since I had just spoken about my husband and children. But this man held a position of power, someone who could potentially influence the future of my business. I was surrounded by people who knew and respected him. Inside, I wanted to scream: How dare you? But in the shock and professional atmosphere, I smiled politely, declined, and moved on.
Moments later, another man put his hand around my waist and rested it on my bum while introducing me to someone else. Again, I said nothing. I just moved away and continued the conversation. Shortly after, I joined a group of women, thinking I’d feel safer there.
But another man joined our conversation, and after a supportive discussion about entrepreneurship, he leaned in and whispered, "If I were 20 years younger, I'd be all over you."
That night, I left the embassy on foot, feeling anxious and unsafe, despite knowing no one was following me. It wasn’t until I was home, in bed with my husband comforting me, that I felt safe again.
[Image: Description: The collage highlights Sophie's participation in various professional and speaking engagements, showing her involvement in conferences, awards, and panel discussions. The theme centers around business, diversity, and innovation.
Top left: A poster for an event titled "Business Diversity Awards 2023," with an image of a woman featured on the right side. The text and visuals suggest that she is either a speaker or an honoree at the event.
Top middle: A photo from a panel discussion. The woman in the center, seated in a wheelchair, is engaging in conversation with two other people (one on each side of her). The background features a stage setup, possibly at a conference or event.
Top right: This is the group photo you uploaded earlier, featuring a diverse group of people at a professional event, with one woman in a purple outfit seated in a powered wheelchair.
Middle left: A photo of the same woman in a purple outfit speaking at a podium. She appears to be delivering a speech at a formal event or conference.
Middle right: A graphic or poster featuring the logo "HD" and the words "Innovation" and "Sponsored by Conffx," hinting at an award or recognition for innovation.
Bottom left: Another event panel, where the woman in the purple outfit is seated, alongside two other women. They are engaged in a discussion, seated in a casual setting with a coffee table in front of them.
In the world of entrepreneurship, harassment isn’t rare. Women already struggle to be taken seriously—only 2% of female-led companies receive venture capitalist funding. And many of us find ourselves navigating uncomfortable, sometimes dangerous, situations with potential investors or business leaders. There’s a sense of compliance we're expected to show—whether it's the way we dress, act, or remain silent when our boundaries are crossed.
I won’t stand for it, and I won’t be complicit. After that event, I committed to speaking out more. But it hasn’t been easy. There are still times I feel unsafe at events. I also learned that when I attend events in my wheelchair, I experience a different kind of discrimination. People often question whether I can perform at the same level as my able-bodied peers. But at least they usually treat me with curiosity rather than predatory behavior.
Attending professional events in my wheelchair often feels like having a protective barrier. People are less likely to cross physical boundaries or harass me, perhaps because the chair itself serves as a visible boundary. But this assumption was shattered at a recent diversity and inclusion event.
A man I’d met several times before—though not well enough to know his last name—came up to me. He tucked my hair behind my ear, commented on how “sexy” I looked in my colorful jumpsuit, and straightened my lanyard, allowing his hands to linger over my chest. Once again, I froze. Despite knowing exactly what I wanted to say, the shock silenced me. I smiled, nodded, and quickly moved on.
[Image Description: This is a group photo of eleven people, taken indoors at a professional event. One person, a woman in a purple outfit, is seated in a powered wheelchair at the front on the right side of the image. She is smiling, with hands resting on her lap. Next to her, a woman in a black-and-white dress kneels down, smiling. There are two men standing behind them, one wearing glasses and a plaid shirt, the other with a beard and a light-colored shirt. In the background, there is a row of individuals standing on a slightly raised platform. They are dressed in business casual attire, including shirts, blazers, and name badges, indicating this is a formal event, likely related to work or business. A large window to the left provides natural light, and a banner on the far right shows a Welsh message and branding, possibly indicating that this event is in Wales. The group appears diverse in terms of age, gender, and ethnicity, and they are all smiling for the camera, suggesting a positive and inclusive environment.]
I’ve never seen a woman touch a male colleague’s hair in a professional setting, yet I’ve witnessed it happen to countless women, including myself. Most of the time, I call it out, guiding the victim to support and reminding the perpetrator of professional conduct. But it’s much harder when it happens to you.
I had assumed my wheelchair provided some level of safety—it doesn't. In fact, navigating harassment as a disabled woman can feel even more precarious. This intersectionality leaves me feeling more vulnerable. I train in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu to strengthen my self-defense, but in these moments, it’s not just about physical safety. It's about the emotional toll and the societal barriers that make it hard for us to speak out.
To those of you who have experienced this, you are not alone. You deserve better. You deserve to feel safe, to be treated as an equal. If you can speak up, do it. But if you can’t in that moment, that’s okay too. You don’t owe anyone your story or your strength until you're ready. There are people, like me, who are prepared to call out this behavior on your behalf.
And to those who have harassed me, you know who you are. You’re probably reading this.
I am no longer the woman who will stay quiet. I will speak up, for me and for others who are experiencing this. Whether I am in my wheelchair or not, I will no longer be complicit. Do not underestimate me—I will call you out.
You used your power to silence me once. It will not happen again to me or anyone I'm with.