From Imposter to Inspired: My Journey to LIONZ 2025

By Mikayla Williams, a student supported by Te Rau Oranga Fund at Momentum Waikato.

When I first saw the email inviting applications for a sponsorship to attend the 2025 LIONZ, the Ladies in Orthopaedics New Zealand, conference, I brushed past it.

Orthopaedics has always been something I’ve loved — I knew deep down I wanted to pursue it — but I still found myself hesitating. I had that familiar mix of anticipation nerves and imposter syndrome.

The voice in my head saying: “You won’t get it; You won’t fit in; What’s the point in applying?”

I remember bringing it up with my partner, almost in passing. He lit up immediately. “You have to apply!” he said, reminding me constantly until I finally did.

If I’m honest, I probably wouldn’t have followed through without that little push. I’d told myself my schedule was too full, or that someone else would get it, but something shifted after I sent that email. I’m not usually superstitious, but I had this strange feeling that I would be chosen. And then, I was!

Cue the nerves — but also a quiet, growing sense of pride. As I write this, I think back to myself on that plane to Dunedin. I was equal parts excited and terrified. I packed and repacked. Scrolled through the LIONZ website more times than I’d like to admit, and went through all the “girly” things — what to wear, what to bring? But underneath all of that was something deeper: “What if this changed everything?”

It did.

Walking into that conference, I carried my identity with me — Māori, Samoan, a medical student who started her journey in nursing, someone raised by wāhine toa. I thought of my mum, my nana, my great nana — strong, resilient women who gave me the kind of strength you don’t always recognise until you need to call on it.

The wāhine toa that raised me into the woman I am today.

Being raised in a whānau that didn’t have a medical background meant I didn’t always see people who looked like me in these spaces. But that’s exactly why it meant so much to be in that room — surrounded by other women, many of whom had also forged their own way here.

At LIONZ, I had the chance to meet some incredibly inspiring women — including Dr Ailsa Wilson, who had just passed her fellowship exams, and Dr Teriana Maheno and Dr Ruth Tan, the first two New Zealand-trained Māori female orthopaedic surgeons!

Their presence alone said — you belong here. They had all overcome the same doubts, navigated the same sacrifices, and still chose this path — not just for themselves, but for those who would follow. Wāhine like me.

Myself and my generous sponsor Dr Ruth Tan.

The most surprising part of the conference wasn’t just the sawbones workshops or surgical stories — it was the focus on us. Our wellbeing. Our resilience.

Nick Petrie spoke on preventing burnout and building resilience in the long game of medicine. Dr Fiona Moir’s workshop on wellbeing at work reminded me that mindfulness and presence aren’t just for yoga studios — they’re survival tools. Tools I can use right now, as a student, and every step along the way.

That was what really struck me — we weren’t just being trained to survive a career in orthopaedics. We were being shown how to thrive in it.

Dr Teriana Maheno and I (breaking a sweat) in the Sawbones Workshop.

This wasn’t the first time orthopaedics had tugged at something deep in me. I think the love began back in my nursing days. I worked in urgent and primary care, and I’ll never forget the GP who could spot a pulled elbow from across the room. He’d explain little tricks: medial ankle pain often means fracture; lateral, usually a sprain. The way he thought, the way he taught — I soaked it all up.

One day, I told him about my post-grad studies and he said: “Why aren’t you doing medicine?” I laughed. “I’m not smart enough for that.” He looked at me and said: “Yes, you are.”

That moment stayed with me.

And maybe this all started even earlier, when I broke three bones in a year as a kid in Whangamatā: my ankle, my collarbone, then my forearm (which needed ORIF). We didn’t have access to X-rays, let alone a hospital that could cast properly. I still remember being taken by ambulance to Waikato Hospital for surgery. I think those moments — the trauma, the care, the awe — planted the seed.

Pictures above are of me getting stuck into the Sawbones Workshop.

And a picture of my handywork, stitching of an ATFL.

Looking back, the decision to walk away from my nursing career and apply for Medical School was scary. I had just completed my post-grad diploma and was planning to apply for the nurse practitioner pathway. But deep down, I knew it would only take me so far. I wanted more. I wanted orthopaedics. And I wanted to learn everything — not just diagnose fractures, but understand the why, the how, the fix.

That decision — to leap, to back myself — is the same one I made when I hit ‘Send’ on that LIONZ application.

Now, after attending, I can say with confidence: “It was worth it; All of it!”

The fear, the nerves, the imposter feelings — they were real, but they weren’t the whole story. I’ve realised that ‘imposter syndrome’ doesn’t mean you’re not good enough. Sometimes it’s a sign that you care deeply, that you know the stakes, that you’re growing.

Some nerves are good. They mean you’re self-aware — and in medicine, that’s crucial. Knowing when you’re out of your depth, asking for help, checking yourself — those things keep patients safe. The dangerous ones are the doctors who think they know everything.

LIONZ reminded me that choosing a hard path doesn’t mean choosing a lonely one. We do this together. And I know that one day, I want to be on the other end — offering the sponsorship, telling a young wāhine just starting out: “You belong here; You’ve got this”.

I came away from the conference feeling grateful. Not just for the generous sponsorship from Dr Ruth Tan and Te Rau Oranga Fund at Momentum Waikato, who made it all possible, but for the community I found.

Me and Pua Lavulo Lee, another medical student at the Sawbones Workshop.

I realised how essential it is to have a support system that lifts you higher — sometimes even before you can see your own potential. Whether it’s a partner who nags you into sending the email, or a mentor who looks you in the eye and says, “You should be doing medicine,” the people around us matter.

I’ve always loved the saying, “You choose your hard.” Medicine is hard. Surgery is hard. But I chose this. And now, I’m choosing to back myself fully — as a potential future surgeon, a proud Māori and Samoan woman, and a wāhine toa in the making.

Me and Pua attending the LIONZ dinner at Larnach Castle.

You can find out more about Te Rau Oranga Fund, and donate to it too, at momentumwaikato.nz/terauorangafund.