Raised by Glitter Wolves: Darcy’s Unconventional Path to Leadership and Liberation
- Jayan Varghese
- 3 days ago
- 5 min read
Updated: 1 day ago
Some leaders are shaped by opportunity. Others are forged by survival.
Darcy belongs to the latter.
Growing up queer in the 90s, she learned early that belonging wasn’t something freely given it had to be built, claimed, and protected. Rejection became her teacher; resilience, her rebellion.
Today, as a leader in government, Darcy brings radical compassion and unapologetic authenticity to every space she enters. Her leadership was not born from privilege or perfection, but from persistence from the quiet, defiant act of showing up again and again, even when the world told her not to.
In our conversation, Darcy opens up about being adopted, surviving disconnection and loss, and finding family through solidarity in the queer community. She reminds us that endurance is not about being unbreakable it’s about never losing sight of who you are, even when the world refuses to see you.
Harpreet: Darcy, thank you for taking the time to share your journey. Let’s start at the beginning. Tell us a bit about your background what experiences shaped who you are today?
Darcy: I grew up in a pretty unconventional way for someone in government leadership. I was adopted after spending my early years in foster care. I grew up in an upper-middle-class family outside Sacramento but when I came out at 14, everything changed.
My mother couldn’t accept it, and suddenly home wasn’t safe anymore. I spent my teenage years somewhat housing-insecure, often crashing on friends’ couches, and learning early that if society already hates you, you might as well live life on your own terms.
It was hard violent at times but it also gave me a strange kind of freedom. No one expected anything from me, which meant I could become anything. I learned early that if I was going to survive, I’d have to do it my way.
Harpreet: That’s an incredible amount of courage at such a young age. Where did that inner strength come from?
Darcy: It came from the people who took care of me when the world didn’t the queer community. Back then, in the 90s, we weren’t on TV or in magazines. We existed behind curtains in video stores and in the back corners of bookstores.
So we built our own kind of family. If a kid got kicked out, you didn’t ask questions you made sure they had a couch and breakfast in the morning. That sense of mutual care and solidarity shaped everything I believe about leadership.
It taught me that community is survival and that caring for one another isn’t just a moral obligation; it’s also a strategy.
Harpreet: You’ve worked across intense spaces advocacy, public service, leadership. What personal values have guided you through it all?
Darcy: Solidarity. Always.
If I see someone being treated unfairly, I’m in the fight with them no hesitation. Even if we are sure we are going to lose. That’s how I grew up.
I also believe deeply in collaboration over hierarchy. There’s too little room for women, especially queer women, in leadership. We’re taught to compete for limited seats at the table, but I reject that. If we work together, we can just build more tables.
And finally endurance. You can’t always outsmart or outspend your opposition. But you can outlast them. Sometimes that’s what wins the day: you just don’t quit.
These days, endurance looks less like pushing through and more like protecting what matters setting boundaries, mentoring and sponsoring other women, and reminding myself that progress is rarely linear. You don’t have to be unbreakable to be unstoppable. But you do have to keep getting up again when you get knocked down.
Harpreet: Many women struggle with that inner critic that voice of self-doubt. How do you overcome yours?
Darcy: Oh, she’s still there loud as ever. But now I just let her talk while I keep moving. I’m not one for sitting still and waiting for clarity to arrive. My answers come through motion. When things go wrong, I pivot fast.
Early in my career, close adults and even professors told me I’d never be anything I was too loud, too poor, and too outspoken. I listened, and I quit. Years later, I found my old photography negatives (I wanted to be a war photographer in college) they were good. Really good. I realized I’d let other people define my worth and as a result, my opportunities.
That was the last time I believed anyone who told me I wasn’t good enough. Now, if someone says my work isn’t valuable, I take it as a reflection of their limits, not mine.
Harpreet: That’s powerful. Has there been a moment in your life when everything seemed to fall apart and yet it led to growth?
Darcy: Yes. Losing my parents young was that moment. Despite our complicated history, I was the one who came home to care for them when they got sick. My dad first, then my mom, who eventually became paralyzed from the neck down for the last year of her life.
Caring for her for those 11 months changed everything. It was brutal, beautiful, and healing. When she passed, I collapsed for a while emotionally and physically. But that experience taught me the kind of compassion and endurance I now lead with.
It showed me that love real love is action. And that healing sometimes looks like showing up for someone who once hurt you.
Harpreet: With everything you’ve lived through what does “being unapologetically Darcy” mean to you?
Darcy: It means I don’t shrink anymore.
It means leading with empathy and truth, even when it makes people uncomfortable.
It means remembering that I wasn’t supposed to make it this far but I did; and choosing joy, humor, and defiance as a result.
Being unapologetically me means showing up exactly as I am queer, adopted, complicated, loud, relentless and using every bit of that difference to make the world better for whoever comes next.
And to younger women especially those who feel unseen you don’t have to earn your right to exist. You already belong. Outlast anyone who says otherwise.
ALLOW YOURSELF A MOMENT TO REFLECT
Darcy’s story reminds us that freedom is not found in perfection it’s in persistence. Her journey challenges us to reimagine strength, not as the absence of pain, but as the decision to keep showing up.
Ask yourself:
Where in your life are you still waiting for permission to be who you are?
What does endurance look like for you when everything feels impossible?
How can you extend care to others in your community, the way someone once showed up for you?
And what table could you help build not just for yourself, but for someone else who’s still finding their way?
Harpreet Ghumman
Speaking, Coaching & Masterclasses
I help women leaders and organizations break through challenges like these every day. What would be possible if you showed up fully, owned your voice, and led unapologetically?
Let’s make it happen.