When I used to think of power, the images that came to mind were predictable; boardrooms, corner offices, political podiums. The places where decisions are made, deals are signed, and fortunes are shaped.
But over time, I realized power isn’t confined to those spaces. I’ve seen it in kitchens, where daily acts of care sustain families. I’ve seen it in classrooms, where teachers plant ideas and shape generations. I’ve seen it in the invisible labor that holds societies together but is rarely acknowledged.
This kind of power never makes it into financial reports or headlines. It doesn’t show up in market graphs. Yet I know it is the foundation without which no boardroom could function.
What troubles me is not just that this work is invisible; it is also systematically undervalued, treated as natural, secondary, or unworthy of recognition. Patriarchy and our economic structures continue to erase it from the story.
For me, expanding our idea of progress means expanding our idea of power.
Power is not only about who sits at the table; it is also about who made the table possible in the first place.
And I’ve come to believe this: the truest measure of power is not who holds the spotlight, but whose work keeps the light burning.
So I find myself asking, will we keep applauding visible power, or are we finally ready to honor the invisible forces that make it all possible?