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| Nadine Djuiko, Maryland and Marvin Lin, Hong Kong |
There are moments in life that don’t seem successful when they happen. They appear as exhaustion. They appear as embarrassment. They appear as doing work you never thought you’d be doing while pretending, sometimes even to yourself, that this is “just temporary.”
Nadine’s moment felt like ten straight hours of braiding
hair. Ten hours of standing. Fingers aching. Concentration stretched thin. A
client patient enough to sit through it all. And a boss who, when it was over,
decided that the work was not good enough.
The agreed amount was $160. That was already not much. But
the arrangement meant that Nadine’s take-home pay would be a fraction of that.
Anyone who has ever worked hard and then been quietly devalued knows that
feeling. It is not anger at first. It is something colder. A tightening in the
chest. A shrinking. A voice that says, “Maybe this is all I’m worth.”
But then something strange happened. The client’s boyfriend
handed over $360. The salon froze. “This is payment for the hair,” he said.
“Give it to your boss.” Her employer objected. Tried to return the extra $200. “No,”
he said. “Take the $160. Give the girl $200. That’s her tip.”
Nadine went home and cried that night. Not polite tears, but
the kind that come when something breaks open inside you. Because when you're
struggling, far from home, and doing work you didn’t want anyone back home to
know about, moments like that don’t just pay bills. They challenge a story.
And stories, especially the ones we carry about ourselves, are
everything.
When Skill Arrives Before Self-Belief
Nadine didn't start with confidence. She didn't even begin
with clarity. She came from Cameroon with a degree in banking and finance and a
background that taught her early on that life isn't generous by default. At one
point, she truly believed the only way to escape poverty was to marry a wealthy
man.
That belief didn’t stem from weakness. It came from
observation. And yet, quietly, there were days she sensed something else. A
certainty without specifics. She didn’t know how success would arrive. She just
knew, deep in her core, that it would.
In the meantime, she sold groundnuts, peanuts, and puff puff
on the street. Good at selling and easy to talk to, but still locked out of
opportunities.
America was not a dream; it was a gamble. When she arrived,
the only work she could find was hair braiding. She didn’t make a fuss about
it. Pride and survival often clash. She simply kept working.
What’s important here is this: Nadine’s value existed
long before she believed in it. Her skill existed before her self-concept
caught up with her. This is where many people get stuck. We assume belief must
come first—that confidence must precede action. That worth must be felt before
it is expressed. But in reality, life often offers evidence before permission.
The problem is, we don’t always accept it.
“The Money Is in the Niche” (But Only If You Can Stay
Long Enough)
There’s a phrase people say casually: the money is in the
niche. Most interpret it as a business strategy. Very few see it as an
identity challenge. A niche isn't just a market. It's a relationship. It's a
specific group of people, with a clearly felt problem, who trust you enough to
pay you to solve it.
For Nadine, the issue wasn’t her hair. It was time. It was
friction. It was the quiet exhaustion of sitting in a salon all day for
something that could be done better. She was fast. Consistent. Respectful. When
others took three hours, she finished in two. That extra hour mattered to her
clients’ lives. But here’s the deeper truth: she didn’t initially believe
she was someone worth following. Her clients did.
They kept telling her, “You’re too good to work for someone
else.” She dismissed it. They insisted. Eventually, they said something
radical: “Start from your house. We’ll come.”
Think about that for a moment. People were willing to
sacrifice comfort, space, and even status—not because she had a brand, but
because she had earned their trust. This is where many fail. Not because they
lack skill, but because they treat service like a favor.
I often see this in Kenya. I know an electrician who treats
me like a king every time I call him. He arrives on time. He explains things
clearly. He respects my home. He takes responsibility. Before him, I dealt with
someone who was always late, communicated poorly, and behaved as if my problem
was an inconvenience.
One person is always busy with clients. The other is always
complaining about having no clients. The difference isn’t intelligence or
opportunity; it’s self-concept reflected through service.
People don’t pay for what you do. They pay for how safe,
respected, and understood they feel around you. And yes—the money is in the
niche. But only if you can stay humble, consistent, and invested long
enough to earn it.
Sacrifice Has a Cost—and a Timestamp
Nadine worked every day. This isn't romantic; it's costly.
There's a truth we dislike admitting: sacrifice works—but only for a season.
Too little sacrifice and you're just inches from striking the proverbial diamond
in the mines. Too much, and you pay a price your future can't handle. She
worked while others rested. She moved quickly when others slowed down. She
willingly gave up certain things.
The question is not whether you are sacrificing. The
question is what are you sacrificing—and for how long? Many people
confuse exhaustion with progress. Others confuse comfort with wisdom.
Both are mistakes.
Sacrifice must be deliberate, timed, and intentional. It
must also be conscious and, eventually, evolve. This leads us to the second
major shift in Nadine’s journey.
Why Talent Alone Will Keep You Small
Nadine did not build one of the largest braiding businesses
in America by braiding hair alone. She grew it by developing people. One of her
managers is a childhood friend who handles client relationships and systems.
She ensures every client feels remembered, honored, and valued. In two years,
Nadine's team expanded from three stylists to one hundred. It also helped that
she went viral on social media, allowing her system to handle the surge in
demand.
Today, Nadine Hair Braiding runs 24 hours a day, seven days
a week. No appointments. You walk in, and the system absorbs you.
This only works because:
- She
respects her people
- She
trusts them
- She
gives them autonomy
This reflects another woman’s story—Marvin Lin, a high
school dropout in Hong Kong. School was tough for her. Most people had already
determined her limits.
Today, her hair care business is valued at over $100
million. For twenty years, she worked. Failed. Learned. Adjusted. Her secret
was not genius. It was commitment and kindness.
She said something that stuck with me: “If you work alone,
you can be fast. But with a great team, you go far and deep.” Why is it that so
many of us believe we must succeed alone?
Why do we overlook the importance of nurturing
relationships—of investing in people—as if income can be maintained without
trust? Even the most talented person isn't skilled at everything. And insisting
on doing everything yourself isn't always a strength; often, it's fear masked
as independence.
The Quiet Tyranny of Self-Concept
At the core of this is a simple yet uncomfortable truth: You
won't outgrow the story you tell about yourself. Self-concept is the internal
narrative you hold about who you are, what you deserve, and what feels
“appropriate” for someone like you.
Four forces shape it.
First, identity beliefs:
“I am disciplined.”
“I give up.”
“I’m bad with money.”
These are not facts. They are conclusions.
Second, emotional memory: Praise. Rejection. Shame.
Failure. Even success. One public failure can shrink your self-concept more
than ten private wins can expand it.
Third, social mirrors: Parents. Teachers. Culture.
“Be realistic.”
“Don’t aim too high.”
“You’re the smart one.”
“You’re lazy.”
Over time, these voices move inside.
Fourth, behavioral evidence: Your mind uses your past
as proof. “This is who I am because this is what I’ve done.” This is why
changing behavior without addressing identity almost always fails. The mind
pulls you back to what feels familiar—even when it hurts.
Why Motivation Fails (And Identity Doesn’t)
Motivation is brief. Self-concept seeks stability. Your
nervous system is designed to protect what feels familiar, not necessarily what
is good for you. That’s why people self-sabotage near success, why they quit
just before breakthroughs. Why do they feel uncomfortable when things begin to
work? They are not lazy; they are defending their identity. You can force
behavior with willpower, but when the pressure lifts, identity prevails. True
change focuses on identity first, not effort first.
How Self-Concept Actually Changes
Not through affirmations but through evidence. Repeating
behaviors consistent with a new identity long enough to feel normal. Each
repetition whispers: “This is who I am now.” That’s why habits matter
not just as productivity tools, but as proof of identity.
A Final Word
Nadine didn't succeed because she was lucky. Marvin didn't
succeed because she was exceptional. They were willing to be shaped by the
journey. I’ll leave you with this
question: What story are your habits currently telling about you? And if
that story no longer serves you, are you willing to write a new one, slowly and
deliberately, with evidence?
That is the work. And if you want to do it properly, you
already know where to find me.
If this message
stirred something in you, don’t let it fade.
1. Join
my LinkedIn Habit Coaching Newsletter: https://www.linkedin.com/newsletters/habits-with-coach-edwin-7399067976420966400/
2. Join
my Habit WhatsApp Community at https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VbAmKkOBvvsWOuBx5g3L
3. Alternatively,
sign up for my 12-month Personal Transformation Program by sending me a message on
WhatsApp at +254-724328059.
For more about Nadine, watch her on Steven Ndukwu's
interview https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLEB7GEScdc&t=4749s
For more about Marvin
Lin, watch her on School of Hard Knocks. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ITU1TpTwe8w
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