Ruwaida Abela Northen On The Route To Quiet Confidence

Ruwaida Abela Northen’s route to true self-confidence began when she realised that being the loudest voice in the room didn’t equate to being the smartest

In my twenties and thirties I thought confidence was something you put on. Like lipstick, or heels. Or a very convincing opinion delivered loudly enough that no one questioned it. I genuinely believed that if I looked a certain way or carried the latest bag, confidence would magically appear – preferably before that important meeting. You see, throughout my career I was often the only woman in the room – and it got even more obvious as I kept getting promoted. Corporate boardrooms have a particular talent for rewarding volume over substance, and I learned quickly that if I wanted to be heard, I had to be bolder, louder, sharper. Silence was interpreted as uncertainty, nuance as weakness. So I took up space – sometimes more than I naturally wanted to – because being understated felt like disappearing.

Confidence, back then, was performative. It needed witnesses. It needed validation. It needed to be noticed, preferably immediately.

I mistook visibility for confidence and attention for power. If I was being seen, I assumed I was doing something right. If I wasn’t, I panicked slightly and tried harder.

What no one tells you is that real confidence doesn’t arrive with fireworks. It sneaks in quietly, usually after a series of deeply humbling experiences. It often shows up once you’ve been disappointed enough times to stop expecting applause.

Now, I speak my mind not with arrogance, but with confidence in my abilities and the experience earned over more than 20 years. When I speak, people listen. No lipstick necessary. That same confidence is what allowed me to start my own business on a whim. I leased an office for a full year before I had a single client – or even a business plan – because I trusted my abilities enough to back myself before anyone else did.

Confidence changed for me the moment I stopped explaining myself. I remember the first time I declined something without providing a backstory, justification, or apology. No “I would love to, but.” No elaborate reasoning designed to soften the blow. Just a polite no. I waited for discomfort. For questions. For judgement. None came. The world, it turns out, did not collapse. That was new.

The older I get, the more I realise that confidence is being decisive. It’s choosing without polling the room. It’s not correcting people when they underestimate you. It’s allowing someone to think whatever they want and resisting the urge to set the record straight.

In my twenties, confidence was about being liked. In my forties, it’s about being aligned. With myself.

There’s also something deeply liberating about no longer needing the world to tell me I am impressive. I’ve done impressive. I’ve chased it. I’ve exhausted myself trying to be the most prepared, the most capable, the most competent person in the room. Now, I prefer being effective. Calm. Clear.

Confidence today looks like walking into a room without scanning it for approval. It’s not caring whether your outfit is ‘too much’ or ‘not enough’ (but let’s be honest my outfits are never the latter). It’s knowing that neither really matters.

And perhaps the biggest shift of all is this: confidence no longer needs witnesses. Some of my most confident decisions have been deeply unglamorous and entirely private. The ones no one clapped for. The ones that didn’t make it onto Instagram. The ones that simply made my life quieter, better, more honest.

That’s the kind of confidence I trust now. The kind that doesn’t need to be announced. The kind that shows up consistently, does the work, and leaves without needing to be thanked.

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Note: This content was created and printed prior to February 28, 2026

From Harper’s Bazaar Arabia March 2026 Issue