Last Thursday, I spent two hours on the 405 freeway driving home from the 30th annual conference of the National Association of Women Law Enforcement Executives (NAWLEE) — in the kind of traffic that makes you question how something in your own state can still feel like a full-blown road trip. NAWLEE is hosted in a different state each year, and this year, for its 30th anniversary, it was in Los Angeles. My state, my region, basically my backyard. And still… two hours to get home. Three full days of training, connection, conversation and reflection, followed by a slow crawl down the freeway to process it all.
There’s something about being forced to sit still after an experience like that. No emails to answer. No radio traffic. No meetings to attend. Just time to think. Somewhere between brake lights and autopilot, my music shuffled to Lizzo’s “About Damn Time.” When I heard the opening, “Anyway…” I smiled. I had forgotten about this song. But it felt like the perfect summary of the last three days.
It’s about damn time.
I’ve been a police officer for over 17 years, and I’ve had the privilege of attending many conferences hosted by women leaders in law enforcement, namely WLLE/RISE, LAWPOA (the Los Angeles Women Police Officers and Associates), and NAWLEE. What has always stood out to me is the consistency. These spaces are rich in content, filled with thoughtful, experienced speakers, and shaped by attendees who show up ready to learn, share and connect. They are intentional, impactful and necessary.
As someone who came up in this industry without access to many female role models, advocates or mentors until much later in my career, it’s about damn time for these spaces to exist, continue to evolve, and still be showing up strong 30 years later.
Because the truth is, this career carries weight. It’s heavy for any police officer. There is a reason more officers die by suicide each year than in the line of duty. There is a reason divorce rates are higher in this profession than in most others. Burnout is not just a buzzword. It’s a lived experience.
And for women in this profession, there are additional layers. The percentage of women in law enforcement has barely moved in four decades. Many leave during their childbearing and child-rearing years. Many have, at one point or another, felt isolated or unsure whether they truly belong in the spaces they worked so hard to enter.
Lizzo sings, “I’ve been so down and under pressure.” That line resonates because the high-stress profession of policing has a way of slowly reshaping people if they are not intentional about staying connected to themselves, their support systems and their purpose.
But this isn’t a sad song. Lizzo is the queen of self-empowerment and reframing your own narrative. In response to the lyric, “Oh, I’m not the girl I was or used to be…” she quickly corrects herself:
“Uh, I might be better!”
As I sat there in traffic, half-watching the car in front of me and half-listening to Lizzo, I remembered that the title is not actually why I love this song. It’s that chorus.
Save a seat for a sister.
As the 30th annual conference began, LAPD Captain and NAWLEE President Julie Rodriguez explained the theory behind the phrase “Save a seat for a sister,” coined by Undersheriff Sylvia Moir. It is not just about physically holding a chair at a table, though sometimes it can be that simple. It is about intention. It is about awareness. It is about recognizing that success is not meant to be solitary. “Save a seat for a sister” means you look around the room and ask yourself: Who isn’t here?
It means you make space before you are asked. It means you advocate, mentor, sponsor and uplift — not because it benefits you directly, but because it strengthens the collective. It’s culture-building in its purest form. I’ve benefited from this throughout my career, but this week was a powerful reminder of how meaningful that support can be.
The opening keynote speaker was retired Chief Kristen Ziman — dynamic, engaging and immediately commanding the room. She spoke about personal responsibility in shaping culture, that every one of us is either building it or breaking it. She reminded us that empowerment costs nothing, but it requires intention. Do not wait for permission to empower someone else, or even yourself. Choose courage over fear. Shift your focus from the worst-case scenario to the best possible outcome, and if you can accept the risk, lock in and move forward.
And then she said something that stayed with me: If you are the first, or the only, make it count. Create a path so that the next person can walk in more easily because you were there.
After her keynote, I waited until the line thinned out and made my way to my friend. Three years ago, Kristen was one of the first people to support me in my speaking and writing journey. We embraced, and within seconds she was asking how I was doing — checking in, offering perspective and sharing encouragement. I left that short interaction feeling re-energized and reminded of the importance of leaders who invest in people.
She saved a seat for me.
For the first breakout session of the day, I had the privilege of hearing retired Chief Deanna Cantrell, who shared a statistic that stopped me in my tracks. California has 28 female chiefs of police — the highest per capita in the nation. Twenty-eight out of 335. Eight percent. The highest in the country is still only eight percent.
Deanna challenged us as leaders to ask better questions and to seek information with intention. “Because if you’re not asking the question, you’re choosing not to know the answer.” She also asked: Who is editing the reality that reaches your desk? An hour with Deanna is a master class in servant leadership, worth far more than the price of admission. Her words, as always, stayed with me long after she left the stage.
Day one ended with retired Assistant Chief Dr. Alma Burke and retired Assistant Sheriff Sasha Larkin, a dynamic duo delivering lessons earned over decades of leadership:
- “Leadership requires action, not certainty.”
- “People over process.”
- “Competence gets you the position — it doesn’t get you the people.”
But what resonated most was when Sasha shared this lesson from years of yoga practice: suffering comes from one of two places. Either you have lost connection to your source, or you need to change your circumstances. It was a reminder that perspective, self-awareness and intentional choices all shape how we experience difficult seasons.
That night, Alma hosted a dinner at a Japanese restaurant overlooking the Hollywood sign. Sixteen seats at the table, and I found myself quietly wondering how I made such a coveted guest list. I spent three hours listening, learning, laughing and connecting with women including Deanna, Sasha, LAPD Detective Erika Kirk and LAPD Captain Amira Eppolito — leaders, officers, women and mothers I deeply admire. Women who make you better simply by being around them.
Seats saved.
Day two centered on stress and burnout. In the session “She Wears the Badge,” psychologist Anastasia Pytal challenged us to set boundaries as a form of self-preservation. Would saying yes to this person or project mean saying no to myself or my family? So many people in this profession struggle to create balance in careers that constantly demand more. That question hit hard, because the answer is yes more often than I allow myself to admit. In “Beyond Burnout,” therapist Isabelle Tierney introduced tools to reset stress and build resilience. In just a few minutes, the room shifted — women breathing differently, thinking differently, realizing that maybe they were not as stuck as they thought.
On day three, I spent the morning preparing for my own presentation. About 30 minutes before it was scheduled to begin, Dr. Alma Burke walked into my conference room just to keep me company. As attendees trickled in, she greeted every single one of them, introducing herself, welcoming them and hyping me up. She created a warmth I could not have created on my own. I’m introverted by nature. That kind of energy does not come easily to me.
She didn’t just save me a seat. She created space for me to succeed.
After my presentation, women stayed to connect, share their stories and ask questions. One commiserated with me about spicy third-born daughters and assured me that the hardest five-year-olds often turn into the best teenagers. Another shared concerns about balancing motherhood with a law enforcement career. I told her the truth I’ve learned: there is never a perfect time to have a baby, but you will never regret it.
I left the room and made my way to lunch. Standing in line, Erika Kirk and Amira Eppolito found me and told me to come sit with them in the ballroom. I said I was planning to meet Alma while she prepared for her session. Amira looked at me and said, “No. You are coming with us. You need to hear this.”
The lunch presentation was a fireside chat titled “Standing Firm: When Silence Is Not an Option,” featuring retired Commander Lillian Carranza and Detective Carryn Barker. Their conversation explored the challenges people can face when navigating difficult organizational dynamics and moments that require moral courage. They spoke about the importance of accountability, the weight that can come with speaking up and the value of support systems and mentorship during challenging seasons of leadership and service.
What stood out most was the reminder that leadership is often less about titles and more about the willingness to support people when it matters most. As the session ended, I looked over at Amira and realized she had intentionally pulled me into that room and made sure I heard that conversation.
She didn’t just save me a seat. She knew the seat I needed.
I ended NAWLEE listening to Alma speak again, this time alongside retired Deputy Chief Sherie Pearsall. Their presentation focused on mitigating risk by examining three components: the officer, the circumstances and the person. While that framework was practical and grounded, the conversation went far beyond tactics. They spoke about influence — about how leadership is not just positional, but behavioral. That influence comes from modeling the standard, providing the right resources and holding people accountable when necessary. It was a reminder that culture is built in the small, consistent actions leaders take every day.
As soon as the session ended, I quickly headed out to make it to my daughter’s softball game. Thirty miles south. Two hours ETA.
When I got in my car, I felt full. Not busy or overwhelmed, but genuinely full — full of perspective, connection and energy restored in ways I had not fully realized I needed. And as I got back on the 405, sitting in traffic again, with Lizzo’s voice echoing in my head, I realized something: Yes, this career is hard. But when people intentionally pull out chairs, make space, create opportunities for others to be seen, heard, supported and reminded that they belong, this profession becomes stronger.
I’m not the girl I was or used to be … I might be better.
Save a seat for a sister.
Because you never know when someone needs it most.
See you in 2027, NAWLEE family.
