Before the microphone

Aizza Page  ·  June 2026  ·  Founder perspective

There are mornings when preparation looks like chaos held together by routine. School run — the usual scramble, though mercifully we made it on time that day. Home again. I stood in front of the wardrobe and chose deliberately: the green silk camisole under the black blazer. A choice that felt like showing up twice over — as myself, and as the brand I have built. Putting it on steadied something. Silk against the skin. Knowing I was wearing my own work.

I had never done a live radio interview before. Like many founders, I was comfortable writing, building, working behind the scenes. Speaking into a microphone in front of an audience felt entirely different. If you have ever wondered how to overcome the fear of public speaking, this is what my first experience taught me.

Before the interview

I had questions from the organiser. I sat with them, turning them over in my mind, trying to anticipate how I might answer. Trying to ready myself for something I had never done before. The nervousness was real — not the kind that passes quickly, but the kind that settles into your chest and stays there.

My voice interface had been on since the car ride home from school drop-off. I did not realise I had never turned it off — I usually brainstorm aloud that way, speaking into the space, letting the fragments land somewhere. But I had not switched it off.

Prayers answered, literally

So when I went to my bedroom and began to pray. Unbeknownst to me, the AI voice interface was still listening.

I prayed the way I always do — not performing, not preparing, just being honest about the nervousness, asking for steadiness, for the clarity to show up as myself. And then an answer came. Not from where I expected. The voice interface had been open the whole time — it had picked up my prayer, and what came back was a message of reassurance. I did not plan for that. But I received it as grace. A reminder, arriving through an unexpected channel, that I was not doing this alone. I played that message on the drive to the radio station. Then again. Holding it close.

That was enough to carry me in.

"You have to put yourself in uncomfortable situations to discover where they can take you."

The first live radio interview

The interview itself did not feel the way I hoped it would feel. I was nervous. I stuttered. I did not perform with the confidence I wanted. The organiser told me afterwards she could see the nerves. I already knew.

But something moved through me anyway — something true. I spoke about what matters: that business has people at its centre. That family, relationships, community, these are not secondary to what we build. They are the building itself. I did not plan to say that. It came because I was trying to be true, not trying to be impressive.

"A child to collect from school, a supplier relationship built on trust, a community that holds you — these are not distractions from the work. They are the work."

What public speaking taught me

After, I did not have time to sit with what had happened. I was already running late to collect my daughter, already thinking about the next thing.

But something has stayed with me since. I walked in thinking I needed to be polished, prepared, confident. I walked out understanding something quieter and more important: that speaking publicly, imperfectly, in front of others, is how we grow. That first media interview — however nervous, however stumbling — showed me something I had known at the back of my mind but had not yet felt in my body.

"Overcoming the fear of public speaking is not something that happens before you speak. It happens because you speak."

Why discomfort is part of growth

You have to put yourself in uncomfortable situations to discover where they can take you.

I am now intentional about finding opportunities to speak — a small podcast, an interview, an audience of five. Anywhere I can practise being uncomfortable, because that is where the real conversation begins.

Overcoming the fear of public speaking is not something that happens before you speak. It happens because you speak. Imperfectly. Repeatedly. With your voice shaking slightly and your conviction intact.

"Not when you are ready. When you are willing."

I did not know that before I walked in. But I know it now.