the invitation that never comes
5 truths I want my daughters to carry with them
We were sitting around the room in Austin last week—eight men, all founders, all somewhere between forty and sixty. No one was trying to outshine anyone. That’s the quiet magic of our annual retreat.
It was early. We were still on our morning coffee.
Sina posed the question.
What are the values, skills, and behaviors you most want your kids—and grandkids—to live by?
I wasn’t prepared for how personal it would feel.
I’ve built expansion plans across continents. But I don’t usually write things like this. Not values. Not legacy. Not what I hope lives on after me.
The question landed. Not as a strategist or operator, but as a father of two teenage daughters. One of them is on the cusp of adulthood and college. The other says little but sees everything. Closely.
So I took the five-minute pause. And I wrote.
No recycled wisdom or borrowed frameworks here. These are carved from experience: the fights I’ve had with the world, with myself, with the stories I inherited. They come from building something in places where I wasn’t expected to succeed. From walking into rooms where my name raised eyebrows. From learning the difference between being impressive and being useful.
Here’s what came out.
1. Think Clearly. And if you Speak, Speak Precisely.
Confusion is expensive. Clarity earns trust. Learn to say hard things well—and to stay silent when that’s the sharper move.
People will follow you, work with you, pay you—if you can name what they’re feeling before they do. If you can explain what they can’t yet articulate.
I’ve spent the last three decades toggling between cultures. I’ve learned to read a room in more than one language at once. But it was leading a business in China with people from fifteen countries that taught me two things about communication. They seem contradictory. They’re both true.
First:
Some cultures are direct. Others aren’t. Even in meetings meant to surface the truth, the real content stays unsaid. That doesn’t work in a multicultural company. We needed a shared baseline. So we made “clarity” a core value: we communicate openly and honestly. It was harder for some than others. But it saved us.
Second:
My Chinese and Japanese colleagues and clients taught me something Western business culture often misses: silence can carry authority. Saying less isn’t evasion. It’s power.
So speak—but speak precisely. And never forget the discipline of restraint. Growing up is knowing when to do which.
2. Take Space. Don’t Wait for Permission.
No one is coming to invite you. Take your place. Speak with conviction. Build what you can’t find.
I started a business from scratch at twenty-seven, in a country where I’d never set foot and didn’t know a soul. No one told me I belonged. More than a few well-meaning types told me I was nuts.
But here’s the harder truth: I’ve also been the guy who waited. For perfect timing. For validation. For someone to say, Now you’re ready.
That moment never comes.
The turning point arrived during another retreat, two years ago. I realized I was still waiting. Living too small. Still hoping someone would tap me on the shoulder and say, Go ahead.
In that “aha” moment, I knew I needed to step up, and that I needed to do it immediately.
The world isn’t built to discover you. You have to show up and take your seat at the table. Sometimes, you have to drag your own chair into the room.
Especially if you’re a skinny kid with a funny name. Especially if your background doesn’t fit the mold. Especially if you’ve been taught that humility means silence.
3. Build Something That Outlives You.
A business. A body of work. A family tradition. A set of ideas. Something with structure and rhythm. Something meant to last.
I want to be seen in the present. I also want to leave behind something worthwhile.
Maybe it’s a business that runs without me. Or a way of thinking. Or a rhythm my kids feel in their bones, even if they never name it.
I’ve spent years quietly delivering 1:1 client work. Now I’m building a more visible B2B media platform. But legacy isn’t only about the performative. It’s about ensuring that the starting point for those who come after you is higher than your own.
Can my fingerprints show up in someone else’s success ten years later?
Build like you’re laying down steel. Quietly. Precisely. So that when you’re gone, something still stands.
If you’re lucky, your kids will benefit from your structures.
4. Marry for Depth. Keep Your Circle Sharp.
Choose your people with care. Your spouse, your inner circle—they shape your life more than any plan or goal.
There’s no hack for this. You pick wisely. You invest deeply.
A good spouse doesn’t just love you. They see your blind spots. They hold your ambition accountable. And they give you space to fall apart, when you need to.
Same goes for friends. Same goes for collaborators. These people are your mirror and your multiplier.
My spouse and friends have called out my bullshit and pulled me back from bad decisions—from bad deals and dark nights. Not because they had better answers. But because they were close enough to say, You’re not thinking straight.
Don’t build a circle that flatters you. Build one that sharpens you.
5. Friendship and Community Matter More Than You Think.
Independence is necessary. But isolation corrodes.
I’ve always prized self-reliance. It’s how I was raised. It’s how I build—bootstrapping, always. Maybe it’s immigrant-founder wiring: you carry your own weight. You don’t ask for help. You carry the load. You’re the one others can depend on.
But I’ve learned that to build something meaningful you need to bring others along. I’m still learning how to do that well.
In the hardest chapters, you need grit—and you need mentors, friendships, and community to get you through.
A childhood friend you can text after five years—and pick up like it’s been five minutes. Forum brothers—other founders—who’ve been there. A sibling or cousin who shows up before you ask.
They’re not support systems. They’re lifelines.
They show you the mirror when ego clouds your view. They keep you human when success tempts you to forget how to be. They steady you.
Build that community slowly. Protect it fiercely.
This list isn’t comprehensive. And I won’t pretend I’ve mastered any of it.
But if my daughters—and maybe one day, their children—find value in even half of these truths, I’ll count that as a win.
Because clarity, courage, initiative, discernment, and connection—
They don’t just shape the life you build.
They shape who’s in it.
They shape what survives you.
They make you formidable.
They make you remembered.
They echo long after you’re gone.
Adil Husain has over two decades of experience advising Fortune 1000 firms on strategy, market intelligence and global expansion. Having lived and worked in the U.S., and China for a decade each, he brings a unique perspective on how U.S. businesses can best succeed both domestically and internationally. Adil is the Managing Director of Emerging Strategy, a global strategic intelligence firm that helps enterprises navigate complex markets.
You can contact Adil here, subscribe to this newsletter, or connect with him on LinkedIn.
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the men who know me
There are eight of us. We’re founders. All men. All somewhere between forty and sixty. Scott is old. We keep reminding him. And for one week each year, we agree to be together.