Great response by Lorena Ochoa on helping out her fellow countrymen on establishing education first and charity next. We should alway think "Education the best way to give the human race a chance to succeed." Charity only gives hope but not always instills happiness. Like the old saying goes- Give the man a fish and you feed him for a day, but teach him how to fish and you feed him for life.
Thx,
Big Fan of Lorena Ochoa- Proud to be "Mexicano!!!"
My Journey to the Top
These 11 women came from many different backgrounds, but they all had big dreams. The path to power meant facing obstacles and their biggest fears.
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Arianna Huffington
Cofounder and editor in chief, The Huffington Post
Women still have an uneasy relationship with power and the traits necessary to be a leader. There is this internalized fear that if we are really powerful, we are going to be considered ruthless or pushy or strident—all those epithets that strike right at our femininity. We are still working at trying to overcome the fear that power and womanliness are mutually exclusive.
In my case, I think I may have had an easier time dealing with this fear because my first taste of leadership came in a situation in which I was a blissfully ignorant outsider. It was in college, when I became president of the Cambridge Union debating society. Since I had grown up in Greece, I had never heard of the Cambridge Union or the Oxford Union and didn't know about their place in English culture, so I wasn't weighed down with the kinds of overwhelming notions that may have stopped British girls from even thinking about trying for such a position.
The same thing happened when my first book, "The Female Woman," came out. I was 23 and my U.S. publisher, Random House, flew me from London to New York. They handed me my schedule, and my first interview was with Barbara Walters on the "Today" show. This didn't faze me since I had no idea who Barbara Walters was, and had never heard of the "Today" show. So I was less nervous than if I had been on a local show in Athens that my family and classmates could have watched.
In this way, it was a blessing that I started my career outside my home environment. It had its own problems in that I was ridiculed for my accent and was demeaned as someone who spoke in a funny way. But it also taught me that it is easier to overcome people's judgments than to overcome our own self-judgment, the fear we internalize.
From one perspective, it might look like I've had a number of careers. But the heart of it has always been communicating, whether it's communicating through books, through columns, and now through the Huffington Post. A big part of my personal evolution has come from responding to the spirit of our times, responding to the way our world is changing. So when I first fell in love with what was happening online it was when I recognized its power to empower people who might otherwise be locked out of the national conversation. I was struck by how often, when I asked women to blog for the Huffington Post, they had a hard time trusting that what they had to say was worthwhile, even established writers.
I don't think that anything I've done in my life would have been possible without my mother. She gave me what I am hoping to be able to give my daughters, which is a sense that I could aim for the stars combined with the knowledge that if I didn't reach them, she wouldn't love me any less. She helped me understand that failure was part of any life. So often, I think, we as women stop ourselves from trying because we don't want to risk failing. We put such a premium on being approved of, we become reluctant to take risks.
My mother gave me that safe place, that sense that she would be there no matter what happened, whether I succeeded or failed. When I saw a picture of Cambridge in a magazine and I said I wanted to go there, everybody else in my life, including my father, said it was ridiculous. But my mother found out that I could apply for a scholarship and she even found some cheap tickets so we could go to England and see Cambridge in person. It was a perfect example of what we now call visualization. Visualize that you are going to Cambridge! It was a long flight to London and it rained the whole time we were in Cambridge. We didn't see any school officials or anything. We just walked and imagined me being there. Three years later, I got in and got a scholarship.
My greatest wish is for my daughters to discover their passion, whatever it is. It could be cooking or politics or art or anything. My oldest daughter just finished an internship with Sen. Harry Reid. Last summer, she did an internship at Vanity Fair. I won't pretend that it's not exciting to see your daughter being excited by the same things that excite you. But, at the same time, it's very important for them to feel the freedom to be excited by things that are not exciting to me. I will share that excitement.
Women are at the next stage of our evolution. In the early '70s, in many circles, a woman was thought not to have value unless her life included a big career. Thankfully this has evolved to the point where we are now respecting a wider range of choices women can make.
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn said, "If you want to change the world, who do you begin with, yourself or others?" I believe if we begin with ourselves and do the things that we need to do and become the best person we can be, we have a much better chance of changing the world for the better.
Julie Greenwald
President, Atlantic Records
After college, I signed up for Teach For America so I could give back. My parents were very community-oriented. I grew up volunteering at food drives, day camps and food shelters. It was during my time at Tulane University that I decided teaching in a public school in New Orleans would be the next step to prepare me for a job as a children's advocate in D.C. I was assigned to an all-African-American school inside Calliope Projects.
It took a few weeks for my students to believe I was their teacher. They were extremely curious about my age, my family and how I got there. I was 22 years old, but way too terrified to admit it, so I told them 35.For so many reasons, it was the toughest year of my life. As soon as the school year was over, I headed back to New York City. The summer of 1992 would change everything. My sister was interning at Def Jam Records and my cousin at RUSH Management; they both told me about a job opening as an assistant to Lyor Cohen. Lyor managed many of the biggest names in rap music. I remember his asking me why he should hire me. I told him about my unbelievable work ethic, how smart I was and my ability to type 50 words a minute. Our office was so small, one day he leaned over my shoulder and noticed I couldn't type, but by then he recognized I was more than an assistant and promoted me to the promotions coordinator of Def Jam Records.
I didn't know anything about record-company promotions, except for the fact that ours was located on the third floor. The entire department shared a big open space. We were incredibly dysfunctional. I programmed the fax machine, created itineraries, launched concert events, anything I set my mind to. I would literally get locked in the office, working around the clock, plotting and scheming. It was the most amazing time of my life. I would dream up hundreds of ideas, some good, some bad, some laughed at, but always encouraged by Lyor. Ignorance was bliss, and my out-of-the-box thinking was rewarded with a huge promotion to start our own marketing department at Def Jam.
Some people said rap was just a fad. We knew better. It was us against the world and we were on the cusp of greatness. We hadn't yet become mainstream, but we were the most significant brand name in urban culture. I was working with some of the greatest rappers ever, names that I had previously heard from the kids in my classroom. My students taught me as much about rap music as I did math for them.
I loved my new life. I loved hip-hop and everything about it. I could be as creative as I wanted, writing ads for The Source, treatments for music videos, multi-artist campaigns—the opportunities were endless. Def Jam was at the top of its game and I was one of the big players behind the scenes. Just when I thought I could get comfortable, Lyor decided it was time to sell our company and merge with Island and Mercury Records. I was now responsible for the marketing of the entire roster for the Island Def Jam Music group.
Timing is everything; we ended up merging the company while I was pregnant with my first child. I spent many late nights in my eighth and ninth months with my new staff, learning as much about the pop and rock side of the business before I literally popped.
We then went on an extraordinary run, building the Island Def Jam Music group into an incredible company.
Five years later Lyor decided once again it was time for change and we left to join the Warner Music Group. Pregnant with my second child, I became the president of Atlantic Records. My first three years I was fortunate enough to work under Ahmet Ertegun, the founder of Atlantic. He came to the office every day. He told some of the greatest stories about the music business; they all had one common theme, incredible artists.
Critics want to say the music business is over. That couldn't be farther from the truth. We've just had to transform ourselves to meet the new ways people are experiencing music. Mobile, digital, songs on TV, strategic licensing—our tools have changed but our outcome is still the same. People will always buy great music and support their favorite artists.
Just when you think you know the music business, everything changes and you have to learn a whole other way to do business.









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