Finding My Voice: My Journey to Becoming a Hadassah President

I didn’t grow up believing I could lead. I grew up surviving, keeping the peace, staying small, trying not to take up too much space. Leadership wasn’t something I saw modeled. It wasn’t something I believed I deserved or was capable of. For a long time, I didn’t think my voice mattered.

Hadassah changed all of that. Hadassah changed me.

My journey began quietly, almost without me realizing anything was beginning at all. It started with Gabby Clayman’s kindness. She was the president of B’yachad, the Hadassah group in Southern California I had only just joined, when she asked me to lunch. Not because she needed anything, but because she genuinely wanted to get to know me. I remember sitting across from her, nervous and unsure as to why I had been invited, when she asked one simple question: “What do you like to do?”

No one had ever asked me that before. Her warmth made me feel safe enough to answer honestly. I told her I liked to write. And from that admission came my first yes: becoming the newsletter chair for B’yachad. I was nervous but excited.

This was new territory, yet it felt like a place where I could contribute. I even created our newsletter logo, never imagining it would be the beginning of something much larger. That “yes” was the first door to open.

In 2016, at my first Hadassah convention in Atlanta, then Hadassah National President Ellen Hershkin pulled me aside. She looked me in the eye and told me she believed I had what it took to be a leader. I tucked her words away.

Shortly after, while still working on my chapter newsletter, an email arrived about the Jewish Public Affairs Committee (JPAC). I didn’t understand the connection between engaging in advocacy and voting. I stared at the email for a long time, torn between wanting to grow and wanting to run from something that felt bigger than me.

Eventually I gathered the courage to call Hadassah Southern California (HSC) Executive Director Lauren Rothman, whom I had previously met on an unrelated trip to Israel. “Lauren,” I asked with a shaky voice, “can you tell me if this is something I can even do?” Her answer was immediate: “Of course you can, Stacey. You can represent Hadassah.”

“Me? I’m not a leader,” I said. “Yes,” she said, “you absolutely are.”

Hearing that from someone who barely knew me meant more than she realized. Her belief in me became the push I needed.

So, even though I was afraid, I went to Sacramento for my first JPAC Capitol Summit. I had never been to the Capitol, never walked into a legislator’s office, never advocated publicly. It was just me and one friend, walking the marble halls with our hearts pounding.

Standing in that hallway waiting to see our legislator, as my folder shook in my hands and my pulse roared in my ears, I felt something inside me open. My voice trembled in that first meeting, but I spoke anyway. And somewhere from within, a voice whispered,: “This is who you were meant to be.”

Soon after, I was accepted into the Hadassah Leadership Fellows Program (now the Hadassah Evolve Leadership Fellows Program), one of the greatest honors of my leadership life. Being a Hadassah Fellow stretched me, challenged me and introduced me to extraordinary women. It was then that Michelle Conwisar, now National Hadassah Secretary, told me, “You can find your voice in Hadassah.” She was right. I did.

During a 2017 Shabbat program, longtime Hadassah matriarch Evelyn Perl approached me and said, “I keep hearing your name.” She remembered me from the first time I ever spoke, when my voice shook through an entire Hadassah Southern California board meeting. “You have grown so much,” she told me. Her noticing me mattered. It reached a place inside me that had never been affirmed before.

Then came 2018, the year that really changed everything.

Learning about human trafficking in California, I was horrified by how many victims were hidden in plain sight. I had an idea, simple but potentially lifesaving: create a non-traceable text number, print it on signs and post those signs in truck stops, rest areas, motels and gas stations. The sign text reads:

If you or someone you know is being forced to engage in any activity and cannot leave – whether it is commercial sex, housework, farm work, construction, factory, retail or restaurant work, or any other activity, text 233-733 (Be Free).

I shared the idea with California State Senator Henry Stern (D-27), never imagining it would go anywhere. I was stunned when he told me that he had chaptered it into a bill: California SB 225 (2018). It was not my legislation to pass but knowing that an idea of mine would help protect vulnerable people felt profound.

When Senator Stern handed me a California State Senate Certificate of Recognition at a Hadassah “Dine and Discuss Human Trafficking” program that I chaired, I held it with awe. I gave my first speech that night, a moment I never saw coming. For someone who once believed her voice did not matter, it was transformative.

On November 7, 2018, my son survived the Borderline Bar and Grill mass shooting in Thousand Oaks, California, which killed 13 people, including the perpetrator. Hours later, the Woolsey Fires above Simi Valley forced us to evacuate with three dogs and almost no time to pack. The sky was orange. Ash was falling. Roads were closing. Hotels were full. Chaos was all around. I was terrified that my family would not find safety.

And then my cell phone rang. It was National Hadassah President Ellen Hershkin. Her voice radiated pure heart. She had called as a mother, as a leader, as someone who understood fear. “I care,” she said.

The fact that Hadassah’s National President knew my name, knew my pain and reached out on one of the worst nights of my life will stay with me forever. That is what Hadassah women do. We show up for each other.

In 2019, I was invited to join Hadassah’s National Grassroots Advocacy Team. I found myself teaching women how to advocate, explaining policy statements, leading workshops and helping women across the country find their voices. The woman who once thought she had no voice was now helping others discover theirs.

More doors opened. I was asked to serve as Hadassah’s representative on the JPAC board. Every time I sit at that table, I think of the trembling woman in the Capitol hallway who wondered if she belonged. Now I help shape statewide policy. Today, more than 35 Hadassah women attend the JPAC summit each year.

Another milestone came when I became co-president of B’yachad with Nancy Reiser, one of my biggest cheerleaders. Leading beside Nancy gave me additional confidence, as she reminded me that I was truly welcome as a Hadassah leader.

Throughout my Hadassah career, I was lifted up by women who believed in me:

Gabby opened the first door.
Lauren breathed belief into me.
Michelle helped me find my voice.
Evelyn saw my growth.
Ellen guided me with compassion and care.
Nancy cheered me forward.

Every yes led to another. Every door that opened carried me closer to the woman I was meant to become. And together, these doors led me to where I stand today: president of Hadassah Southern California (HSC) Northern Area..

Sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself speaking at a podium or leading a meeting and think, “Who is she?” And then I remember: She is me. She is the woman I fought to become.

Hadassah didn’t just teach me how to lead.
Hadassah taught me that I deserved to lead.
That I was capable of leading.
That my voice mattered and always had.

Now it is my turn.

L’Dor, V’Dor  (from generation to generation). Just as others lit the way for me, I now light the way for other women. I give back what I was so freely given.

When I see new members stepping into leadership for the first time, unsure and wondering if they belong, I see myself. And I get to look them in the eye and say the words that changed my life: “Yes, you can. You are a leader.”