Kim Vogel, Co-Founder, Gazelle Ventures | Network Lead, 1 Million Cups– Ewing Marion Kauffman Foundation
An accomplishment I'm really proud of, which was also a huge risk, was making the decision 24+ years ago to adopt our twins. Even though I didn't make that decision single-handedly, it changed the trajectory of our family's life forever. It has been a labor of love, and many times it was only our sheer will, our determination, and the grace of God that carried us through.
Together and individually, we have fought through racial bias, stereotypes, verbal assaults, trauma-inducing situations, and unspoken judgment. People have questioned our decisions, our parenting, our worthiness. But as a family, we have stood strong and stood together.
People have also questioned my strong "mama bear" energy. Let me tell you, it is strong. If someone is disrespectful, rude, or has hurt any of my kids, or honestly any other child, they will know who is coming for them and why. I have also refused to coddle or lower expectations because of what we've been through. We are given one life to live, and my goal, my dream, has always been that people get the opportunities they deserve because they worked hard, didn't give up, and were authentically themselves.
This personal journey made me look at my professional journey through a very different lens. It allowed me to focus on my purpose instead of my career trajectory. In one of those "I'm throwing up the white flag" moments, I recognized my purpose: to name worthiness, so others can accept their giftedness. In that recognition, it became clear that no matter what situation I found myself in, no matter what career path I took or didn't take, staying true to that purpose would never steer me wrong.
So when you hear me telling you that you're awesome, that you should keep going, I mean it. And when you know you might be off-kilter and you ask me for feedback, expect to receive it. I believe in you enough to make sure you have everything you need to move forward in a way that honors who you are and the gifts you bring to the world.
My daughter Taylor inspires me. She's a doctor focused on women's and children's health and wellbeing, and she wholeheartedly takes the best care of her patients, truly every person she encounters. She's been doing this incredible work while facing her own challenges, and yet she perseveres, refuses to take no for an answer, and has a genuine curiosity that makes her interested in learning more about all sorts of things.
There's a stereotype that women don't belong at the venture capital table, that we're better suited to support the deals than to lead them, source them, or write the check. It isn't true, and I'm proof of it, but I'll be honest: I never saw myself at this table either. Venture capital wasn't the room I imagined for myself. I came to this work through the entrepreneurial ecosystem, through years of building alongside founders, not through a traditional finance track. For a long time, that felt like a disqualifier. Now I know it's exactly why I need to be here.
Here's why it matters. Capital is one of the most powerful levers for economic freedom that exists. Who sits at the table deciding where that capital goes determines whose ideas get funded, whose businesses get built, and whose families get generational opportunity instead of generational struggle. If women aren't in the room, we are trusting someone else to see the value in what we build, and too often, they don't. Not because the value isn't there, but because it doesn't look familiar to them.
I believe potential is equally distributed, but opportunity is not. That gap doesn't close by accident. It closes when the people who understand what's been overlooked are the ones with the authority to say yes. That's why I'm at this table. Not because I always felt qualified to be here, but because true economic freedom requires women's voices in the room where the decisions get made, not just in the room where the decisions get pitched.
For me, it's never been a single decision. It's been an incremental journey of being willing to learn something new, pivoting when there was no choice but to, and recognizing that in the end, I am and always will be an entrepreneur. However that manifests, I'm all in for the exploration.
I had to unlearn the need to make sure everyone likes me, because I really want people to like me. For a long time, I operated like being liked was the measure of whether I was doing a good job or being a good person. That's a heavy way to move through the world, and honestly, it's not sustainable if you're trying to lead with conviction. Somewhere along the way I realized that trying to please everyone means you end up standing for nothing, because you're too busy managing how everyone feels about you to actually say what needs to be said.
Letting go of that didn't make me harder. It made me clearer. I can care deeply about people and still tell them the truth. I can disappoint someone and still be a good leader, a good mother, a good partner in this work. Not everyone has to like me. They just need to know I'm honest, I'm consistent, and I'm in their corner even when I'm telling them something they don't want to hear.
Honestly, I'm still handling it. My answer hasn't changed much over the years: I put my head down and work harder. And if I'm being real, when someone underestimates me, it makes me smile a little. I think, go ahead, underestimate me, this is going to be fun. I've never found much value in arguing with someone about my worth or trying to convince them I belong in the room. I'd rather let the work speak. And honestly, I don't even care what they say on the back end. I do the work for me, not for their approval.
We talk a lot about wanting women to be advocates for other women, and I believe in that deeply. But sometimes women become the biggest critics of other women, and that cuts deeper than any underestimation from someone outside our own community. I choose to combat that by being authentically myself and refusing to shrink or compete for a seat like there's only one available.
Because here's what I want women to recognize: the pie doesn't have to be sliced up smaller and smaller. We can make a bigger pie. We can invite more women to the table instead of guarding the one seat we fought so hard to get. We can support the next generation of women leaders while also recognizing this generation, the women who are actually in it right now, doing the work, building, creating. Not necessarily the ones with the loudest presence, but the ones with their heads down, putting in the hours nobody's watching. Those are the women I want to see lifted up. The more of us who show up authentically and make room for each other, the harder it becomes for that kind of criticism to take root.