BE THE STEVE IN THE ROOM, BY STEVE BAILEY

April 20, 2026

This year was my third Women’s Energy Network (WEN) Conference. By now, walking into a room of hundreds of women as one of the very few men isn’t new to me—but this year felt different from the start.

Maybe it was the front-row table. Baker Tilly was the Main Stage sponsor, which meant we were highly visible. Or maybe it was the rhinestone shoes. Either way, when I walked into that breakfast on day one, I stood out in a way that would have made my younger self deeply uncomfortable.

A few years ago, I would have shrunk under that kind of attention. I would have adjusted, toned things down, tried to blend in. But that’s not who I am anymore. At least, not entirely. Because here’s the truth: even when you’ve done the work, those old voices don’t just disappear.

During Julie Brown’s keynote—and more than a few times throughout the day—speakers referred to the audience as “ladies and Steve.” Every time it happened, I smiled. I genuinely loved it. There was something joyful about being seen, about being known, about being part of the experience in such a unique way. I’m not shy, and now 450 incredible women knew my name. It felt good. And then, later that night, lying in bed, the other voice showed up.

What if they see you as a distraction?
What if you’re just another white man taking up space?
What if your presence feels like power instead of participation?

That thought didn’t come from nowhere. It came from years of observing, learning, and trying to understand spaces that weren’t built for people like me—spaces where, historically, people like me have taken more than they’ve given.

Even now, days later, I’d love to say that thought is gone. It’s not. But I do recognize it for what it is: an echo. Not truth—just something shaped by past experiences, trying to insert itself into a present that doesn’t match it. And the present, if I’m honest, was something entirely different: It was connection. It was learning. It was being welcomed.

For most of my life—49 years, to be exact—I lived in a way that wasn’t fully me. I followed expectations. I hid parts of myself that didn’t seem to fit the mold. I kept my creativity quiet. I softened my sensitivity. I learned how to exist around toxic masculinity by avoiding it rather than confronting it. It was safer that way.

Turning 50 changed something. Not overnight, but steadily. I started peeling back those layers and asking harder questions about who I actually was—not who I had been performing as. That process led me here, to a version of myself that feels more honest, more open, and still very much in progress.

At 62, I sometimes think of my authentic self as being about 12 years old. Still learning. Still growing. Still figuring things out. And spaces like WEN have become part of that growth. There’s something different about the way people show up there. The vulnerability is real. The conversations go deeper. The perspectives stretch me in ways I don’t often experience in more traditional, male-dominated environments. I hear stories of imposter syndrome, resilience, exclusion, and success—and I see the strength it takes to navigate all of it.

More than anything, I feel a level of acceptance that stays with me long after the conference ends. That’s what I have to come back to when those quieter doubts creep in. Not the fear. Not the assumption. But the reality of what I experienced. I wasn’t there to take anything - I was there to learn. To listen. To grow. And I did.

By the end of the conference, I felt that familiar mix of energy and clarity. Knowledge, perspective, acceptance, joy—they all come together in a way that pushes me forward, both personally and professionally.

So yes, I was “The Steve in the Room.” And instead of questioning that, I’m learning to embrace it. Not as a spotlight, but as an opportunity. An opportunity to step into spaces that challenge me. To listen more than I speak. To stay curious. To keep growing, because growth doesn’t happen where you’re comfortable. It happens where you’re aware.

If there’s one thing I’d share from this experience, it’s this: don’t avoid being the person who stands out in the room. Don’t shrink from it. Lean into it. Listen closely. Reflect honestly. Take in what you can. And then carry it forward with intention.

That’s where the real value is. That’s where the gold is. And for me, at least, that’s what it means to be The Steve in the Room.

_____

Steve Bailey
WEN Houston Member
Director, Royalty Revenue, Baker Tilly