Making the Invisible Visible: A Reflection on Who I Am Becoming?

I was nominated to be a part of the project called - Making the Invisible Visible: Black Women 365 Days of the Year . I feel so pleasantly surprised and greatful. The project spearheaded by the Serendipity Institute for Black Arts and Heritage in the United Kingdom, Each day during 2026 a different woman will be showcased, whose story has shaped Black British or global Diasporic history; many of whom remain overlooked or under-celebrated in mainstream narratives

Based on this nomination, I found myself sitting with five simple questions that opened into deeper truths.

This is what rose to the surface.

Who am I, really?

My name is Akosua Dardaine

I help young women remember themselves — not the version shaped by expectation or survival, but the one rooted in intention, truth, and self‑trust.

My work is not a job description; it is a practice.

I create and hold spaces where women can slow down enough to hear their own wisdom. Where young women leaving State and Foster care feel seen

Whether I am writing, facilitating, or designing programmes, I am guided by a single question:

Am I showing up in love and in service?

I move through the world with a grounded, reflective energy.

What my work looks like in motion

My work is deeply human. It shifts, expands, contracts, and breathes.

On any given day, I might be designing a healing‑centred workshop, facilitating a leadership circle, writing a reflective piece, or supporting organisations to build trauma‑informed programmes.

I spend a lot of time listening to what is emerging, to what is needed, to what is ready to shift.

I hold space for young women, for communities, and sometimes for myself.

Integrity matters to me.

I don’t want the work to be performative; I want it to be lived.

I want the women I work with to feel seen, safe, and capable of shaping their own lives.

A moment that shaped me

Creating the NiNa Young Women’s Leadership Programme changed me. Living in Uganda shaped me, getting fired and divorced shaped me- Changed me.

I didn’t just build a programme — I grew alongside it.

Watching young women step into their voice, confront their fears, and claim their power taught me that transformation is communal.

We rise in relation to each other.

And personally, the last few years have been a deep rite of passage a journey through clarity, endings, and rebirth.

I learned that healing is not a destination; it is a discipline.

Those moments taught me to trust my intuition, honour my boundaries, and pay attention to the quiet shifts that change everything.

What you might not see at first glance

People often see the facilitator, the leader, the writer — but they may not see how deeply I value stillness.

I protect my inner quiet.

I am someone who needs silence, sea water, and solitude to stay aligned.

I am also someone who leads with compassion rather than punishment.

Gentleness, for me, is a discipline.

And I wish more people understood that my work comes from deep listening, not performance from intention, not urgency.

How I hold joy and momentum

I hold joy by paying attention to the small wins, the subtle shifts.

I celebrate through ritual: writing, going to the sea, grounding myself in nature, moving my body in the early morning.

When the work feels slow or heavy, I return to my practices.

I remind myself that clarity comes in layers, not leaps.

Joy for me is steady.

It is the quiet knowing that I am still becoming, still learning, still choosing myself.

Look out for the video when it drops on Youtube

Peace and Blessings

Akosua