I was still blinking from the stage lights when the room went quiet. One moment I was in London, lifting the Gold trophy for Corporate Communication and Marketing Person of the Year at Campaign’s Global Agency of the Year Awards, and the next moment, I was alone in a hotel room, heels off, staring at the ceiling. The cheers were gone, leaving a single, heavy thought: Who am I when no one is clapping?
That question weighed more than the award itself.
On social media, gratification is instant. Likes pour in in seconds and disappear with the next swipe. A post or story feels thrilling for a moment, then the spark fades. Chase that buzz for too long and the real you begins to blur. I’ve been there. It’s exhausting and leaves you empty once the screen gets dark.
So I turned inward, seeking my answer …
I am a daughter to a mother who kept our family together as a jeweller after my father died, running a business by day and teaching us all about values such as generosity by night. I am a sister to an incredible woman who carved out a place for herself in finance, in a boardroom built for men. I’m a friend to several multitasking superwomen who raise families and juggle a thousand to-dos without blinking. I am also a former intern who stapled press kits until midnight, a former junior creative who shook through her first client call and a manager who still proof-reads every slide because details matter. None of these truths fit on a trophy, yet they are the only reasons the award matters.
My career has never been a straight line. I zig-zagged from creative to marketing to communications, navigating wrong turns and sleepless nights along the way. Early on, I chased quick approval, nods, titles and likes, because I was convinced that applause and validation meant progress.
Then a campaign fell flat, deadlines refused to move and, at three in the morning, doubt came knocking. A shiny post can’t sit with you at that hour. So I asked myself: Who would I be if no one was watching? And that question has become my daily compass. It keeps me grounded and honest, and reminds me that when the applause fades, only character remains.
Answering it changed my whole idea of success. Somewhere in my endless marathon, success stopped being a selfie with a medal and became an inside job: the person I am becoming; the value I bring to my team and workplace; and the path I’m clearing so that the next generation of women can walk forward with confidence.
And what a time to walk. I honestly believe there has never been a better moment to be a woman in advertising. For all its flaws, our industry is finally learning that empathy drives results and that brands built on trust grow fastest. Michelle Obama says there is no limit to what women can achieve, and I see that limitlessness every day in the women around me: colleagues who pitch with courage; mentors who open doors for others; and rising creatives already unlearning the word impossible. Their paths prove that leadership isn’t a waiting game; it’s a door already open.
Yet even in this era of possibility, the temptation of shiny metrics still shouts for our attention. Scroll any feed tonight and perfection is everywhere: flawless edits, milestone captions, overnight success stories. Look closer. Real progress lives off-camera: in messy drafts, patient rewrites and the quiet kindness that keeps a teammate going.
Staying grounded, messy, honest, and human is a soft act of rebellion in a world that is constantly begging us to perform, and it’s where lasting work is born.
So here’s the promise I make to myself: when the curtain rises and the lights go off again, I won’t count the seconds of applause. I will look for the calm that comes from knowing I stayed true, delivered real value, pulled others forward and inspired the next woman in line to do the same. That is my true definition of success – worth every late night and early morning.
Here’s to us, to this women’s era and to building something that still shines long after the lights go off.
By Romy Abdelnour, Head of Communications, TBWA\RAAD
