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Good Weeks and Reframe Weeks

Sun, 25 Jan 2026 05:26:25 GMT

I don’t really believe in “good weeks” and “bad weeks” anymore.

I believe in good weeks… and reframe weeks .

Lately, my weeks have felt like a full rollercoaster.

Big energy. Big movement. Big emotions.

I can feel the momentum of this Year of the Horse. That forward motion. That “we’re not here to play small” energy. And at the same time, I can still feel the last of the snake shedding. Old skins. Old stories. Old ways of moving that don’t fit the woman I’m becoming.

It’s uncomfortable.
It’s powerful.
And honestly… it’s also really rewarding.

Because alongside the chaos, I’m starting to feel the payoff of the last 12 to 24 months. The invisible work. The uncomfortable choices. The boundaries. The boring days. The days where nothing sexy happened but I still showed up.

I’m feeling the rewards of setting myself up.

Not in a flashy, overnight-success way.
In a grounded, “wow… I actually built this” way.

And what I’m really falling in love with lately is the boring.

The everyday jobs.
The habits.
The systems.
The quiet discipline.

Because it is the boring things that set up the big things.

They’re the reason you wake up one day and realise you’re not scrambling the way you used to.
They’re the reason momentum starts to feel natural instead of forced.
They’re the reason opportunities can land and you actually have the capacity to hold them.

And this is where I’ve been reframing how I see my weeks.

Good weeks are the ones everyone wants.
The ones where things flow.
Where conversations land.
Where work moves.
Where your body feels good.
Where your mind is clear.
Where you think, “oh… this is working.”

And then there are reframe weeks.

The ones where you feel like you’ve landed flat on your face.
Where something hurts.
Where something doesn’t go to plan.
Where you see a gap.
Where you get humbled.
Where something in you gets stretched, challenged, or straight-up cracked open.

These weeks exist.
They always will.

But what I’ve realised is that most of us don’t get stuck because of the reframe weeks.

We get stuck because we live in them.

We replay them.
We identify with them.
We build stories inside them.
We slow our own momentum by staying in the emotional recovery phase far longer than necessary.

And this is where my sport brain always comes in.

My coaches used to say:
“You know you’re fit when your recovery between sets feels good. When you’re not still dying at the end of the rest period. When you can shorten the rest and go again.”

That’s how I think about reframe weeks now.

The goal isn’t to avoid them.
The goal isn’t to pretend they don’t hurt.
The goal isn’t to spiritually bypass the lesson.

The goal is to learn.
Extract.
Integrate.
And shorten the time it takes to move back into forward motion.

I know my inner world is getting stronger when I can feel something painful on a Tuesday… and not still be living in it on a Sunday.

I know my systems are working when a hard moment doesn’t derail the whole week.

I know my habits are becoming real when I don’t have to give so much energy to “doing the right thing” because it’s just what I do now.

That’s fitness.
That’s capacity.
That’s leadership.
That’s growth.

Good weeks feel good not because life suddenly got easy…
but because the boring work has been done.

Because decisions are clearer.
Because standards are set.
Because boundaries exist.
Because the basics are handled.
Because your nervous system knows how to recover.
Because your mind knows how to reframe.
Because your body knows how to return to centre.

And honestly, I think this is one of the most empowering shifts we can make.

To stop romanticising only the good weeks.
And start respecting the reframe weeks for what they are.

Not signs you’re failing.
Not proof you’re off track.
But part of the training cycle.

Load.
Stress.
Adaptation.
Integration.
Momentum.

Over and over again.

So if you’re in a reframe week right now, don’t build a house there.

Feel it.
Name it.
Learn from it.
And then ask:
“What’s the next aligned step?”

Because the work isn’t to eliminate the hard weeks.

The work is to become the woman who moves through them faster, cleaner, and with more self-trust every time.

And one day, you’ll look back at a season that felt boring, heavy, repetitive, or slow…
and realise it built the life you’re standing in.

That’s Female First.
That’s capacity.
That’s the work.

And it’s worth it.

The Narratives You Are Giving Your Power To

Fri, 23 Jan 2026 00:00:01 GMT

We all carry stories.

Some strengthen us.
Some limit us.
Some don’t belong to us at all, but we carry them anyway.

Narratives are powerful.
Not because they are always true,
but because when we repeat them long enough
we start to live by them.

Sometimes those narratives come from pain, from family dynamics, from systems that were not designed with us in mind.
Sometimes they come from things we overheard about ourselves before we were old enough to understand what they meant.
“Too loud.”
“Too ambitious.”
“Too emotional.”
“Not from the right family.”
“Lucky to even be here.”

Or sometimes it is quieter narratives:
“This is just how things are for me.”
“People like me don’t get those opportunities.”
“I need to wait until I’m more ready.”
“This is probably enough.”

And sometimes, the most damaging narratives are the ones we don't even say out loud,
the ones we quietly believe.

Let me tell you one of mine.

For a long time, I believed I was only being invested in because of my heritage.
I told myself I was only offered scholarships, leadership programs, jobs, because I was First Nations, because I fit a statistic, because someone needed to tick a box.

And yes, some investment exists because it should.
Because representation, data and history matter.
That’s not the part I’ll ever deny.

This is the part I had to challenge:

I believed that I was only worth investment because of the disparity, not because of my ability.

That belief had consequences.
I held myself back from applying for non-Indigenous roles.
I believed my relationships would mirror the statistics I grew up around.

But really… It was me limiting me.
Not culture.
Not policy.
Not statistics.

Me.

And then, one day, I asked myself a question I now ask every woman I work with:

Would you speak to a child
the way you speak to yourself?

Would you tell a little girl
that her future is limited
by where she was born,
what she looks like,
or what systems she was raised in?

Would you tell her
she can only apply for certain jobs?
That she can only build wealth for the next generation,
but not herself?

No.
You would not.

You would tell her to learn, grow, try, fail, rebuild, and build again.
You would tell her she is allowed to live at full capacity, now.

So then the real question becomes
Why are we not telling ourselves the same?

Yes, systems are oppressive.
Yes, structures are unequal.
But not all of the limits we feel are external.

Some of them are internal.
And those are the ones we can change.

One story at a time.
One decision at a time.
One belief at a time.

So, I’ll ask you gently:

What narrative have you been repeating
that no longer deserves your power?

And more importantly
who would you be without it?

You don’t need to erase your story.
You just need to choose who is writing the next chapter.

What Jealousy Taught Me

Fri, 16 Jan 2026 00:00:06 GMT

I used to be jealous.
Not in a resentful way, but in a longing way .
A noticing. A witnessing.
An ache that whispered, “ I want that too. ”

I remember being young, watching the boys play footy.
Not just play, but be celebrated.

Their teams had whole communities backing them.
Cars packed with chairs and tents.
Mums cooking meals to sell at fundraisers.
Uncles and brothers showing up, even when it was 38 degrees.
Crowds cheering wildly, even when the boys weren’t playing that well.
Jerseys were blessed. Teams were prayed over.
There was ritual. Ceremony. Pride.

And I remember thinking,
Where is that for us?

Not bitter. Just aware.
Aware that they had something I wanted.
Not the game. Not the glory.

The belonging . The backing. The belief.
The kind of network that lifts, protects, remembers.

Years later, I went to university and saw it again
but this time, not on the field.

I watched how the “old boys” looked after each other.
They had played sport together.
Then studied together.
Then worked together.
Then hired one another.
They made the calls that changed careers.
A quiet referral here. A “leave it with me” there.
A job before it was even advertised.

I was jealous again.
Not because I wanted their place
but because I wanted that kind of system .

A network that didn’t let women start from scratch every time.

I caught myself saying,
“This is why women don’t get the big jobs.”
“We don’t have networks like that.”
“We weren’t set up like that.”

But eventually, I got tired of repeating that story.

The jealousy wasn’t telling me to resent what they had.
It was showing me what we could build.

Now, when I feel jealousy
I don’t shame it. I study it.

It is showing me something I want to experience.
Something I want to create.
Something I want to gift to others.

Because jealousy doesn’t always say “they have what I don’t.”
Sometimes it says, “they are proof it can be done.”

And that means
I can build it too.

Network = Net Worth (The Real Kind)

Fri, 09 Jan 2026 00:00:28 GMT

You might get tired of hearing me say it,
but who you have around you will shape what you believe is possible.

I didn't learn this from business books.
I learned it from living in a tiny apartment in the city,
sharing space with another athlete who really knew what it took.

I moved down south believing talent would be enough.
I trained. I thought I worked hard.
But when I lived with her, I learned the difference between trying hard
and living a high-performance life .

She was disciplined.
Consistent.
Up early.
Trained twice a day.
Rested properly.
Ate for fuel, not mood.
Didn’t party (ever) – TBH this was hard because I had been taught post-game celebrations was normal.
But she turned down shortcuts, distractions, and any opportunity for drama.

She didn’t tell me how to be an athlete.
She showed me.
In the habits.
In the discipline.
In the quiet decisions.

And without realising, my entire standard lifted.
Not because she coached me.
But because I lived beside someone who embodied it.

She changed my net worth as an athlete .
Not money.
Not reputation.

My net worth in belief, in standards, in evidence that I could do more.

Then I moved again.
New team. New city. New opportunity.

But this time, something felt different.
Instead of being pulled forward by discipline,
I was being pulled sideways by comfort.

My new teammates were talented,
but comfort had become the culture.
Sleep-ins were normal.
Training “when you feel like it” was fine.
Nutrition was a suggestion.
People were more worried about being liked
than being excellent.

My choice was to join them
or hold my own line.

To fit in or stand out.

Which, at that age, felt like choosing between belonging or becoming.

At first, I tried to blend in.
I trained enough.
I performed enough.
I was there, but I wasn’t rising .

And then one day, I remembered what I had seen.
Not spoken about, not lectured on,
but witnessed, embodied.

Discipline.
Consistency.
Self-respect.
Unapologetic standards.

I decided to hold those again.
Even if it meant being the odd one out.
Even if it meant not being “in the group.”
Even if it meant earning respect slowly, and sometimes quietly.

You don’t become who you want to be by imitation.
You become her by proximity.

So choose wisely who is in your network, because I can guarantee its impacting your net worth.

Family, Boundaries & Becoming Who You're Meant to Be

Fri, 02 Jan 2026 00:00:07 GMT

My own story of belonging, identity, and boundaries

For a long time, I carried confusion about my name.

Publicly, when I played sport, I was “Libby Rose”
my first and middle name, but not the name on my birth certificate.

Why? Because I didn’t feel like I truly belonged to either of my surnames.

As a child caught inside co-parenting pain,
my last name sometimes became a condition of belonging.
As if I only belonged when I obeyed.

Carrying a name that held unresolved tension meant I never felt settled in who I was, or where I belonged.

When I became a parent, history tried to repeat itself.
I thought I would be different.
I thought I would do better because I “knew better.”

But knowing better and doing better are not the same.

I had to learn, over time and with help,
that love is not control,
that boundaries are not betrayal,
that healing sometimes starts with walking away,
and that distance can sometimes be the most loving decision, for both people.

I made the difficult decision to cut ties with a biological parent in order to protect my emotional well-being.
I do not share that lightly.
It was not an act of anger.
It was an act of survival, and later, healing.

And sometimes, when you remove the person you were begging to love you,
you make space for the one who always did.
For me, that was my real Dad, the man who took me as his own, raised me.

Setting that boundary didn’t just protect me.
It helped me build the relationship I was always hoping for
one built on respect, safety, trust, and love.

It also helped my mother heal,
because when one person breaks a cycle,
they often break it for others too.

This was not a quick fix.
I didn’t “boundary my way” through it.

I went to therapy.
I travelled away from home to give myself space.
I said no to explaining my pain to people who only wanted gossip, not truth.
I learned who was safe. Who wasn’t.
And I kept choosing the hard, quiet work of healing.

I still am.

Let’s go a little deeper.

Working with female athletes, coaches, founders, and women in every kind of transition, I have noticed something we don’t talk about enough
family dynamics.

Not as a footnote.
Not as something we “manage on the side”.
But as something that deeply shapes how we show up as women, leaders, and even as business builders.

The expectations.
The unspoken roles we have carried.
The responsibility we feel, even when no one asked for it aloud.
I once thought this weight belonged only to First Nations women.
Now, I know it belongs to women everywhere.

For some, it looks like loyalty.
For some, silence.
For some, pressure.
For some, love.
For many, a mix of all those things.

And for many women, the moment they truly begin becoming
is the moment they choose to set boundaries.

Even when it hurts.
Even when it costs them relationships.
Even when they feel guilty.
Even when they’re afraid of being misunderstood.

Because that is often when we finally choose our own becoming.

And what does any of this have to do with business, leadership, or sport?

Everything.

You carry your story into every room you walk into.

Into every game.
Every training session.
Every boardroom.
Every decision.
Every negotiation.
Every relationship.

You can only perform, lead, or build for so long
before your emotional foundations begin to show.

You are the key.
What you allow around you matters.
Who you allow around you matters.
Your boundaries are not walls.
They are your architecture.

Relationships will either grow your capacity,
or drain your clarity.

Protect the ones that grow you.

If this touched something in you
I am sending you strength.

Not to make fast decisions.
Not to build more walls.
But to take your time with this.
Seek help.
Speak it out with someone safe.
Stand back when you need to.
Step forward when it’s time.

And remember
Healing isn’t selfish.
It’s preparation.

With love,
Libby

Women in Business, From Kitchen Table to Global Connection

Fri, 26 Dec 2025 00:00:02 GMT

The greatest asset we have as women in business is not proximity. It is connection.

The women you need are not always in your postcode.
They might be on your Instagram, your LinkedIn, your DM requests, or sitting quietly in a community you haven’t met yet.
They might even be living in remote communities hundreds of kilometres away, with brilliance, heart, and ideas that corporate Australia hasn’t seen yet.

Digital tools, when used well, create new kinship systems.

They let rural women, city women, First Nations women, mothers, athletes, founders, mentors, early risers, and midnight thinkers, all show up in the same space.

Not every day.
Not in exhausting weekly meetings.
But in the right moments.
The right season.
Where the conversation nourishes us, not drains us.

That, to me, feels deeply powerful.
Gather when the timing is right.
Share. Listen. Build.
Go back to your life.
Return when it is time again.

We used to believe: proximity is power.
Now we know: connection is.

I am yet to meet a woman who isn’t sitting on the most BRILLIANT idea ever…

The only think that is stopping them is honestly the network of women who have done it before and help you realise there is actually no reason you cannot start right now!

The network of women who will share their resources with you, introduce you to the right accountant, drag you to a business networking event, nominate you for an award for all the unrecognised work you are ALREADY doing!!

We honestly need to STOP trying to build businesses that reflect the capacity of a 30-year-old man with no kids. (oops, yes I said it).

Literally ALL of my best business moments have not come from strategy meetings.

They’ve happened:

beside a creek with no reception, just quiet clarity
on a FaceTime meeting while stirring dinner and settling kids
scribbled into a notebook during a 6am flight
or recorded into my phone as a voice memo called “Sis, listen to this before I forget”

I didn’t wait for the “perfect setup”.
The website, the office, the brand photos, the polished titles.

I started with:
A phone.
A Gmail account.
A Canva free subscription.
A community of women who believed in one another before we believed in ourselves.

Because women don’t always need more preparation.
We often just need permission.
To start where we are.
With what we have.
With who we’ve already got, OR a new network of women we didn’t know we needed!

Which brings me to what I will repeat again and again

Female First was built for women who don’t always see themselves in corporate networks, business circles, or glossy entrepreneurial spaces.

Women who aren’t waiting for permission, but are looking for language, tools, mentorship, templates, community and a space to say:

“Hey sis, I have an idea. What do I do next?”

Because when women become visible, we become even MORE powerful.

Not louder.
Not harder.
Not more polished.

Just visible, in your own light.

Rugby League, The Passion and The Pain

careygroup@webzulu.com.au (Mark Reisinger) — Fri, 19 Dec 2025 00:00:02 GMT

I adore this game. Truly.
I wish I had more time in it.
I wish little-girl me had the chance to play it when my feet and dreams were still growing.
I wish I had a longer career, more seasons, more jerseys, more moments on that grass.

Because for where I come from, rugby league is more than sport.
It is identity, belonging, healing.
It holds stories, families, and memories of those we’ve lost.
It unites communities in a way that feels almost spiritual.

But I cannot write about the passion without telling the truth about the pain.

Because rugby league, for me, carries both.

I’ve seen the beauty of this game, the pride of watching entire communities gather to bless jerseys, cook meals, sew banners, and honour those who came before us.
But I’ve also felt the other side, the side no one puts in the highlight reels.

The side where celebrations turned into chaos.
Where alcohol fuelled more than just team songs.
Where violence crept into the spaces that were meant to be safe.
Where pain wasn’t just in the losses on the field — but the ones that happened after the final whistle.

I can’t write this pretending I’ve always stood outside it.
There were times I was in those spaces too, sometimes trying to belong, other times trying to avoid feeling the weight of old memories.
Sometimes I found healing in the sport.
Sometimes I hid inside it.

Sport can be both, a place to heal and a place to hide.

That’s the truth I’ve come to hold with compassion.

And as much as I love this game, I’ve had to admit something to myself
It hasn’t always loved women back.

Not in the changerooms.
Not in the policies.
Not in the leadership.
Not always in the culture.

I don't think I'm alone when I say that while women’s sport is booming, the emotional intelligence of the industry has not grown at the same pace.

We have better stadiums, better sponsorships, better jerseys
but I still haven’t met many women in sport who say they feel truly at home in it.

That’s why I care so deeply about the work I do now.

Because building equity in women’s sport isn’t just about facilities, funding, and pathways.
It's about building safer spaces, emotionally, mentally, culturally.
Spaces where women can step into leadership without feeling they must harden to survive it.
Spaces where athletes, coaches, administrators and founders can tell the truth about what this industry costs, and also what it gives.

We cannot build a stronger future for women in sport without first asking:
How do we take care of the women building it?

We need spaces where we can do more than play.
Where we can feel.
Where we can be honest.
Where we can stay soft and still stand strong.
Where we don’t just endure the system, we redesign it.

One space won’t be enough for all of us.
So, we build many.

We build healing spaces. Learning spaces. Leadership spaces.
Spaces where women can be exact versions of themselves, fierce, tired, joyful, grieving, disciplined, hopeful, and still becoming.

That, to me, is why I do this work.

�� If you’ve ever loved sport deeply
and also felt the sting of it
If you’ve found your strength because of it
but sometimes had to protect your heart from it

You are not alone.

With Love,

Libb

Demythifying The "Nomad" Misunderstanding: Movement Is Never Random

careygroup@webzulu.com.au (Mark Reisinger) — Fri, 12 Dec 2025 00:00:03 GMT

“As I get clearer on how I find my way home, I realise I am moving like my ancestors did, with purpose, with seasons.”

This year, especially, something has shifted in me.
I am starting to see myself through the same lens of movement that shaped our Old People.

Not “nomadic”.
Not wandering.
But answering seasons .

I realise now that the way I move between:

red dirt Country
sea Country
and the city

…is not chaos.
It’s continuity .

I’m not travelling to escape anything, I’m travelling to maintain everything that matters to me:

the identity of my children
my connection to community
my responsibility to kin
and my ability to provide for my family

My Old People hunted turtle, dugong, crayfish, to feed their families, to trade, maintain relations.

I’m hunting opportunities.

Not for survival in the traditional sense, but also to put food on the table, secure a home, build a business, and create a legacy for my children.

Written from Waibene (Thursday Island), on the beautiful Country of the Kaurareg people.

For so long, Australians have been told a story that never belonged to us — that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people were “nomadic”, drifting across the continent without any real pattern, purpose, or governance.

But in the last decade, we’ve begun to hear… loudly and clearly… what our communities have always known:

The data now confirms what our Old People practised for tens of thousands of years:
we were not aimless wanderers.
We moved in alignment with Country, guided by seasonal calendars , trade routes , kinship obligations , maritime pathways , astronomical markers , law , and deep governance systems .

Our movement was not random.
It was regulated.
It was purposeful.
It was sophisticated.

And somehow… I didn’t fully understand just how deeply that truth lived inside me until I began building businesses.

My entire purpose for building business is to be able to work from the beaches of the Straits, the red dirt of the Cape, the city board rooms, whilst still putting food on the table. I don’t want to have to choose western economy over learning my cultural economy any longer.

I always knew I would end up here, I didn’t know what here looked like, but I knew I had to find a way to bring myself home when I needed it, when my family needed.

same purpose.

different tools.

same responsibility.

THE WESTERN SYSTEM HAD TO BEND TO MY CULTURAL SYSTEM, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND

I had to get honest with myself about something:
a 9–5 job could never hold the way my life moves.

Community meetings at midday.
Cultural protocol and practices (funerals, A LOT of funerals, tombstones etc) that don’t fit neatly into annual leave entitlements.
The reality of raising young children, especially when “leave” often gets eaten by daycare sickness (if you know, you know).
Opportunities that come from being physically present in community, not tied to a desk.

So, I built Female First , and every other business since then, because I needed a Western structure that allowed me to live by cultural logic :

To be:

in community or nearby,
with community when called upon,
and working on myself, to be able to balance it all

While also creating wealth without apology for it, because we deserve to create abundance for ourselves and to leave for our children.

This is what economic empowerment looks like when it’s culturally aligned.

our old people did this first

When I travel between sea Country, red dirt Country and the city, I think about the systems my ancestors lived within, the ones data is only now catching up to:

long-distance trade networks
diplomatic negotiations between clan groups
seasonal movement guided by environmental knowledge
structured governance and jurisdiction
shared resource management
kinship-based agreements for travel, marriage, ceremony, and trade

And I realise:

I am not doing anything new.
I am doing what my Old People have always done, moving in accordance with culture, responsibility, and survival.

The difference is that today, instead of hunting by spear or navigating by stars, I’m navigating economic systems, business opportunities, governance structures, and new models of community prosperity.

But the intention is the same:

Find the resources we need.
Protect our families.
Strengthen our communities.
And leave the next generation better than the last.

This is how I find my way home

I am not “nomadic”.
My family is not drifting.
My children are not growing up disconnected or confused.

We are moving the way our ancestors moved:

with season
with purpose
with responsibility
with governance
with clarity

And every time I land on Country, whether it’s red dirt or saltwater, I can feel the alignment between the old world and the new one.

Movement was never our deficit.
Movement was always our design.

And now, as the next generation, it’s our turn to continue that design through the systems we build, the businesses we lead, and the legacy we leave in the hands of our children.

We're Not Just Playing in Women's Sport, We're Changing The Game That Starts After The Stadium Lights Go Out...

careygroup@webzulu.com.au (Mark Reisinger) — Fri, 05 Dec 2025 00:00:00 GMT

We are living inside a turning point

What Female First is here to do

Nurture young women entering the sporting world, so they never have to walk in alone
Support athletes to lead themselves authentically, on and beyond the field
Stand beside women navigating the complexity of contracts, choices, identity, and transition
Guide those moving into leadership, entrepreneurship, coaching, and storytelling roles
Help women see that sport is not the end of the story, it is the training ground for what comes next

Sport is not the destination.
It is the launchpad.

Let’s Launch Together!

With Love,

Libb

I fell in love with sport before I ever understood what it meant.

Before I understood policy, equality, investment, broadcast rights, pathways, or salary caps,
I understood how it felt.

The feeling of lacing up boots on grass that carried so many stories.
The adrenaline of stepping onto a field that wasn’t built for us, but still held our dreams.
The way girls would shrink themselves to fit in, and then slowly grow as if returning to something they always knew.

I didn’t always play in environments that celebrated women.
But I played in ones that shaped women.

I saw what happens when a girl first hears her name over a loudspeaker.
When she gets her first jersey.
When she steps onto a field that was never meant for us
and still claims every blade of grass.

Sport is where talent and potential starts to grow into voice.
Where competition turns into leadership.
Where “I don’t want to be seen” slowly becomes
“Watch me.”

I’ve seen little sisters turn into captains,
athletes turn into advocates,
players turn into founders, broadcasters, leaders, directors.

Sport, at its best, doesn’t just grow players.
It grows possibility.

Women's sport is no longer the feature on the sidelines.
It is the feature.

Girls are not waiting for permission anymore.
And women are not waiting for perfect timing.

We’re not just asking to be included in existing systems.
We’re building new systems alongside them.

We are:

Investors.
Decision makers.
Broadcasters.
Founders.
Shareholders.
Mentors.
Movement builders.

We’re not just making teams.
We’re making pathways.

And yet, we must be honest…

While we build, influence, and try to shift sporting systems,
we also need to look after ourselves
and stay connected to women who understand the emotional cost of equity work.

Because it takes a long time to shift minds
that have never experienced the inequity.

Some people don’t even see the gap,
because they have never had to live without the access.

Think about it.

We have built million-dollar stadiums
that for years never hosted a single women’s game.

We funded male-only competitions for decades
and called it “nation building.”
But it was only building half the nation.

And now, we offer a new change room and call it equity.

A $200,000 change room does not close a 30-year gap.

So I ask
What would it look like if we reimagined sporting infrastructure
built intentionally for women?

Not just equal,
but fit for purpose
for the way women play, lead, gather, and grow.

Would it even look like the stadiums we currently share?

Would that be radical to build entirely new structures, we are doing it within the company structures, with all these W’s thrown before and after the competition titles?

Because if you really think about it, we built the businesses and the infrastructure, entire facilities , exclusively for men.

Who Do You Belong To? Expanding Kinship Beyond What I Was Told I Was Allowed To Be

careygroup@webzulu.com.au (Mark Reisinger) — Fri, 28 Nov 2025 11:38:59 GMT

"WHO DO YOU BELONG TO?"

There is a question I have been asked my whole life.

It’s not “What do you do?”
It’s not “Where are you from?”
It’s not “What do you believe in?”

It’s this:

In First Nations communities, this question is not small talk.
It is not a curiosity.
It is a map.
It’s how we connect lineage, land, obligation, story, and relationship.
It’s how we figure out kinship, not just where you are from, but who you are responsible to.

It’s how people know:
Are you someone’s sister?
Are you someone’s Aunty?
Whose granddaughter are you?
Are you in-law, or sorry business family, or skin sister?

Because belonging is not just identity.
It is position, responsibility, and relationship.

In First Nations kinship, belonging is not about who claims you.
It is also about who you are accountable to.

But here's where I struggled…

When non-Indigenous Australia asked me who I was,
I didn’t get asked “Who are your people?”

I got asked:
“But what are you?”
“Are you Aboriginal or Torres Strait?”
“Are you Part Indigenous?”
“How much?”

Some people wanted culture.
Some wanted category.
Some wanted proof.

So I learnt quickly:
It wasn’t about belonging .
It was about fitting .

Fitting into funding criteria
Fitting into identity boxes
Fitting into people’s expectations of who I should serve and where my voice should stay

And before I even knew it, I believed something quietly:

Maybe I only belong to the Blak parts of me.
Maybe that’s where I’m supposed to stay.
Maybe that’s all I’m allowed to serve.

And here’s the important part:
I believed this was loyalty.
But I realise now, it was limitation.

What kinship really taught me

Kinship is deep.
It is cultural, yes.
But it is also relational, emotional, and spiritual.

Kinship taught me:

I can belong to my Torres Strait and Aboriginal families,
and still belong to my Irish heritage
and belong to brown women globally
and belong to mothers
and belong to women building businesses from their kitchens, cities, islands and screens
and belong to anyone who is trying to create something honest, from where they stand.

My kinship is not a cage.
It is a circle.

So, I believe my kinship is to all women and girls
Yes, I believe in investing deeply into First Nations women, girls and communities.
Yes, I will always carry that responsibility.

But I also believe our women are not meant to lead only in “First Nations spaces”.

We are allowed to lead in:

corporate spaces,
creative spaces,
sporting spaces,
international spaces,
and spaces that don’t yet exist.

We are not meant to lead away from our identity,
but we are also not meant to lead only within it.

I belong to more.
More than the one box someone tried to assign to my identity.
More than one community I am expected to stay inside.
More than one “approved” audience.

So, I made a decision in business:

I will work with all women.
Founders. Business owners. Athletes. Coaches. Students. Mothers. Professionals.
Women in remote communities and in city boardrooms.
Brown, Blak, white, multicultural, women.

I will openly share my experiences as a First Nations woman
from lived experience, not sacred or cultural authority
to show how First Nations ways of building, connecting, and holding people
can shape better business.

Not cultural business.
Just better business.

Business that feels aligned.
That honours responsibility, reciprocity and relationship.
That doesn’t just transact.
But connects.

So I ask you —

not “What do you do?”
but
Who do you belong to?
And who might belong with you, that you’ve never allowed into your circle?

Because I think we are allowed to widen the circle now.
Without losing ourselves.
Without leaving where we come from.
Without shrinking or performing.

If this landed, you may already be part of Female First.

With Love,

Libb

I Built Business from Deep, Generational Knowledge Systems

careygroup@webzulu.com.au (Mark Reisinger) — Fri, 21 Nov 2025 10:58:16 GMT

I built my companies using first nations knowledge systems.

Because I thought:

“People will think I’m making it a cultural business.”
“People will think it’s only for First Nations women.”
“People will think I’m unqualified.”

But what I now know is:

I don’t run businesses about culture.
I build from cultural principles that have shaped how communities connect, organise, lead and sustain value for thousands of years.

Through:

Kinship, not hierarchy.
Reciprocity, not extraction.
Shared authority, not "top-down".
Story, not slogan.
Connection, not transaction.

It’s funny.

Western business calls these “ innovative ideas ”.
In my world, this has always been the starting point.

And if I’m honest, for years I worried I was being boxed in.
The “ First Nations Representation, The Female Founder ”.
I felt people assumed I was only “allowed” to build in certain lanes.

But here is my truth:

My skin, culture, heritage, they’re woven into everything I build. And the world is lucky to have it.
But I am not here to build only for one group.
My kinship extends to women of ALL backgrounds who are trying to build without leaving parts of themselves behind.

It’s not cultural business.
It’s business built with cultural intelligence .

And every woman I’ve worked with, from the islands, to Sydney, in community settings to corporate, understands this at a heart level:

We are hungry for different ways of building.
Ways that don’t burn us out or leave us behind.
Ways we can feel proud to hand down.

I didn’t leave my culture to build business.
I used my upbringing to design a better way of doing business.

And if that feels like something you’ve been trying to name,
you may already be part of Female First.

With Love,

Libb

I didn’t grow up around business owners.

I grew up around women who held people .

Women who knew who was grieving, who was tired, who needed a meal left at their door, who needed a lift, who needed space, who needed to be pulled in closer.

That was my first form of governance.

Before I knew words like strategy, governance, networks, wealth creation ,
I knew responsibility, reciprocity, belonging, permission, respect, who holds authority, who holds care.

Not on a whiteboard, not in a meeting.

At kitchen tables.
At funerals.
After sport.
In tough conversations whispered outside the house so kids couldn’t hear.

Business schools don’t call that a “knowledge system”.
But that’s exactly what it is.

I used to be scared to say:

Welcome to the Founder's Blog

careygroup@webzulu.com.au (Mark Reisinger) — Fri, 14 Nov 2025 10:55:23 GMT

A blend of business, storytelling, and intentional oversharing.

I come from a long line of storytellers.

I grew up listening to stories of struggle, vision, responsibility, community, and the kind of wisdom that isn’t written in books, but passed down through yarns, feeling, and time.

This space, The Female First Founder’s Blog, is where I share my learnings as a former athlete, a business founder, and now as a coach working with female athletes and business founders.

This blog, and the podcast, feel like modern-day storytelling. They allow me to connect ancient ways of learning and knowing with modern digital platforms. It is my way of practicing what I preach: story, connection, and courage in real time.

Reading or listening to this blog and podcast is honestly the best way to know: do you want to work with me, and with Female First?

I believe deeply in building real relationships with the people you do business with. So this is my way of saying, here I am. This is how I think, reflect, question, grow, and build. And from there, you get to decide if this is a space for you.

Why I stayed quiet, and why I don’t anymore

For too long, I did not voice my story or opinions. I thought it was unprofessional, and as a woman, and a First Nations women, I felt like I always had to be “extra” professional just to get a look in. I worried being authentic, and leading from my feminine or cultural strengths it would cost me opportunities, especially if someone disagreed with me or my approach. What I now see so clearly is that by not being authentic, being the chameleon, with my energy and intentions, I was attracting people who aligned with the performance, not the purpose.

No surprise, those relationships and opportunities didn’t last. They began feeling off after a few months, because they were never built on truth.

Things only began to shift when I nervously started showing up as myself. Not the polished version, but the real version. I started sharing where I was at in the present moment. And the right people finally began to find me.

Those relationships felt natural. They were energising. It felt like rocket fuel.

So I took the evidence, and I did it again. I shared more. I lost people who didn’t align, but more importantly, I made space for those who did.

Now, I continue to share my stories, learnings, and experiences in the hope of finding the women who feel deeply connected to this kind of work.

What you can expect from me

I will overshare.

I will build deep relationships.

I will be your greatest cheerleader and your honest accountability coach.

And in return, I will share both the successes and the failures, from the past and in real time. Because I am not the expert, and I never want to be. I want to keep learning, and keep sharing those learnings.

The first lessons I want to offer you

Start talking. Tell people what is on your heart. This is the fastest way to learn who is really in your corner, and to allow new opportunities and new people to find you.

Accept where people are at. Sometimes, those who cannot support you are not lacking love, they may simply lack capacity, tools, or understanding. That can be hard for them too. You can love them, and still let them go if you have to. I relearn this one monthly.

Remain open. What you voice now will grow, change, and evolve. That is the whole point. If what you believe never shifts or deepens, you may have been playing too safe, or talking to the wrong people.

I often say I hope what I write here embarrasses me in ten years. Not because it was untrue, but because I will have grown. I will be wiser, clearer, and more experienced. That is the point.

Someone once asked me, what if you write something now that contradicts who you become in ten years?

My answer is this: growth is a beautiful thing.

This is the spirit of this blog. Raw, reflective, brave, always learning. Not perfect, but deeply real.

Welcome. I am glad you are here.

Big Love,

Libb

www-femalefirst-com-au-refresh

Good Weeks and Reframe Weeks

I don’t really believe in “good weeks” and “bad weeks” anymore.

I believe in good weeks… and reframe weeks .

To stop romanticising only the good weeks. And start respecting the reframe weeks for what they are.

The Narratives You Are Giving Your Power To

What Jealousy Taught Me

Network = Net Worth (The Real Kind)

Family, Boundaries & Becoming Who You're Meant to Be

My own story of belonging, identity, and boundaries

And what does any of this have to do with business, leadership, or sport?

Women in Business, From Kitchen Table to Global Connection

The greatest asset we have as women in business is not proximity. It is connection.

Female First was built for women who don’t always see themselves in corporate networks, business circles, or glossy entrepreneurial spaces.

Because when women become visible, we become even MORE powerful.

Rugby League, The Passion and The Pain

Demythifying The "Nomad" Misunderstanding: Movement Is Never Random

THE WESTERN SYSTEM HAD TO BEND TO MY CULTURAL SYSTEM, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND

our old people did this first

This is how I find my way home

We're Not Just Playing in Women's Sport, We're Changing The Game That Starts After The Stadium Lights Go Out...

We are living inside a turning point

What Female First is here to do

Who Do You Belong To? Expanding Kinship Beyond What I Was Told I Was Allowed To Be

"WHO DO YOU BELONG TO?"

But here's where I struggled…

What kinship really taught me

So, I made a decision in business:

So I ask you —

I Built Business from Deep, Generational Knowledge Systems

I built my companies using first nations knowledge systems.

Welcome to the Founder's Blog

A blend of business, storytelling, and intentional oversharing.

Why I stayed quiet, and why I don’t anymore

What you can expect from me

The first lessons I want to offer you

To stop romanticising only the good weeks.
And start respecting the reframe weeks for what they are.