Hi, this form is a starting point for all speaking requests.
Please don't hesitate to reach out about your event or request and let me know what you have in mind.
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Summer always shows up like a seductive little lie, doesn’t it? Everything's supposed to feel easier. Lighter. Like we’re all just one backyard barbecue away from happiness. But if you're like me (and, let's be honest, like most people right now), you might be feeling…off.
A little disconnected. A little tired of pretending everything’s okay. A little like shouting “no thanks” to every group text, every workplace obligation, every news cycle, every coffee date request, and yes, even every pool party.
Here’s what I think: we’re not just tired, we’re apathetic. And apathy is sneaky. It doesn’t show up waving red flags. It slides in quietly and starts whispering things like “why bother?” or “nothing’s going to change anyway.” And before you know it, you’re in sweatpants, watching the same four shows on Netflix while doomscrolling through your inbox.
But here’s the deal: apathy isn’t laziness. It’s grief. It’s burnout. It’s what happens when we’ve been let down too many times by our systems, our neighbors, our leaders, and even by ourselves. So we check out. We stop believing our voice matters and we go numb. I get it, I’ve been there.
More than once I’ve said yes to something big—probably too big—when I already had too much on my plate. In that moment, I wanted to be helpful, didn’t want to disappoint anyone, and thought, I’ll figure it out. You know how that goes: I didn’t figure it out. In fact, I got resentful, then, exhausted. And then I just… stopped caring about the thing that was too big and the people I was so worried about disappointing. I stopped caring about anything, really.
That’s when I realized that saying yes too often is what creates apathy. Overcommitting is not noble—it’s toxic. And when we don’t protect our energy, we lose the ability to care. Yes, about work, but also about all the things we do the work for: our communities, families, futures, and ourselves.
That’s why I’m declaring this the Summer of Nope.
Nope to people-pleasing. Nope to performative positivity. Nope to over-functioning in broken systems. Nope to pretending things aren’t hard. Not because I’m giving up, but because I’m choosing intentionally.
The magic? Every nope creates space for a powerful yes.
Yes to rest. Yes to reflection. Yes to real conversations. Yes to action that actually matters. Yes to finding that one thing you still believe in and fighting like hell for it.
Here’s my invitation to you:
Find the apathy in your life and then call it out. Don’t judge it, just name it. Then, find one thing, just one, you can say “no” to this week. Something small, something bold, and something that gives you even an inch of space.
Reclaim that inch. Celebrate getting some of your life back! And then? Keep going. We don’t need to fix everything. We just need to refuse to be asleep at the wheel. This invitation is all about leading your messy, tired, brilliant self back to a place where you care again.
Because apathy is the enemy, but your “no” can be a bona fide superpower.
P.S. Forward this to a friend who’s running on empty. Let’s stop pretending we’re fine when we’re not. Let’s be real - and do better - together.
When my son was born in 2006, we weren’t trying to make a statement or trying to be activists. We were just trying to start a family.
His first mom chose us. She wanted us to raise her son. And even though we did everything the process required—completed every form, satisfied every home study, and took every parenting class—when he was born, the hospital staff treated us like criminals.
Some of the nurses didn’t think gay people should adopt. Some didn’t believe in adoption at all. They tried to push us out. They ignored his first mom’s wishes and tried to erase her voice in the process.
And I don’t mean that figuratively: they literally tried to remove us from the hospital. It was the best day of our lives, but we were met with hostility from people who knew nothing about us. Nurses who were supposed to care for families and the newborn babies made it clear we weren’t welcome. They wouldn’t let us in his room, treated us like we didn’t belong, and made it clear that thought that we weren’t a real family.
That was nearly 19 years ago. You’d think by now things would’ve changed. That our families, and our humanity, would be protected by now.
But here we are and the same hostility is not just alive, it’s louder. It’s been emboldened and wrapped in legislation branded as “parental rights.” The voices are in statehouses, school board meetings, and national news broadcasts. It's not fringe anymore.
In some places, LGBTQ+ people struggle to adopt. In others, trans kids can’t access health care. In many, families like mine are again being treated like something dangerous, something “other.”
We’re not going backward. We’re already back there.
That’s why I’m using this final week of Pride not to celebrate, but to sound an alarm. I want everyone to know our stories aren’t abstract. This isn’t a debate about values. It’s our lives and our kids lives. It’s our right to love, to raise children, and to be visible. To just be…at school, at work, at the doctor’s office, in a hospital room.
That’s what Family Equality fights for every day. Not just the right to create a family, but the right to keep one. To live freely and safely as a family.
So if you’ve ever cared about me or my family, or families like mine, here’s what I’m asking you to do:
Get loud. Share this story. Share your own. Talk to your people. Challenge apathy.
Get smart. Learn what’s happening in your state. Read the policies. Read between the lines.
Get involved. Donate, protest, vote, show up. Not just for Pride, but for every family’s future.
Because Pride was never just about a parade. We didn’t get this far by being quiet. We got here by being loud, real, and relentless. And that’s exactly how we’ll keep moving forward.
I'm honored (and honestly a little stunned!) to be included in GO Magazine's "100 Women We Love" list for 2025. This list is stacked with brilliant, bold, badass women who are changing the game across industries, communities, and continents. Being in their company is a reminder of the power of visibility and the importance of representation—especially for queer folks, women, and anyone who's ever felt like they didn’t quite “fit.” Here's to making space, taking up space, and celebrating the incredible women who are doing the work and lifting others as they climb.
Read about me, and the other women on GO magazine’s website.
I joined the Beyond SaaS podcast to talk about something we don’t always hear enough in tech: that growth isn’t just about scaling software—it’s about investing in people. This is a topic I have talked about since I started in this business.
We covered the hard stuff: diversity in tech, what “culture fit” really means, the role of storytelling in business, and why the future of work has to center human well-being over shareholder value. Oh, and yes—there’s some AI in there, too (of course). If you’re into honest conversations about leadership, change, and building companies that don’t suck to work at, give it a listen.
Listen and watch “Tech Growth is About 3 Things” on YouTube.
I have some events scheduled for September but, as of right now, I am officially off for the next 8 weeks!!
“We're forfeiting our power if we succumb to apathy.” — Camille Perri
