Kundi $how

In Uganda, a "kundi show" is slang for a crop top—a tiny garment that’s sparked a thousand bombastic side-eyes in my time. I didn’t know it at the time, but my crop tops were my first venture capital.

Ufff, did you just roll your eyes? Kinda rude no? 🤣 at least I got your attention now :-) 

When I was younger, my mum would look at my outfits and groan, “Why are you always wearing a kundi show?” Back then, I didn’t realize it, but those little shirts were my quiet rebellion—a way to demand acceptance for difference. The same remains true today.

I don’t blend into a sea of blue, gray, and black suits, which doesn’t come without its troubles. However, I want to show that my expertise isn’t tied to how I dress, but to what I do, what I know, and how I express it. If you’re going to dislike me, at least dislike the actual me.

Then I read something that stuck: showing your stomach is an ancient sign of vulnerability and trust. My crop tops became my way of saying, “Here I am. Take me as I am.”

Being in this tech space as a woman in Africa is the same it’s about who’s willing to bare their stomach—to say, “This is my truth. Fund it or not. Believe it not.” 

That’s why I named this newsletter Kundi $how. It’s my defiance. My refusal to sugarcoat. My stomach, metaphorically out, ready to trust you with the rawest takes on money, power, and being a woman in this VC game in Africa.

People ask what advice I’d give my younger self. My first thought? “Stop wasting time—she can’t hear you.” And if she could she definitely wouldn’t be listening, but then I settle on two things:

Women are conditioned to dig one more inch, to stay in toxic jobs, floundering startups, or dead-end relationships because maybe it’ll turn around. Bullshit.

The environment will tell you when it’s time to go. No amount of hard work resolves nonsense and effort justification is a trap. I’ve learned to take the advice we give founders seriously: fail fast, fail well

Your homework: Next time you’re digging for diamonds in a sewage pit, ask: Is this persistence or self-harm?

I wish I’d stormed into rooms as the unedited, unfiltered version of myself—the one who says “That’s stupid” when something’s stupid, who isn’t afraid to be wrong (and corrects fast), who doesn’t twist herself into a “palatable” shape.

Two VCs I admire (who shall remain nameless) do this. They’ve been called reckless, arrogant, too much. But what freedom, to be yourself and let the chips fall. Consequences be damned.

This newsletter is my gentle rebellion. It’s not just about crop tops or VC—it’s about trusting the world with your truth, even when it quakes.

So here’s to every woman who’s been called “too much” in a boardroom. Your too much is their not enough.

Now go rip that blazer and wear it like a Kundi $how. I’ll be right beside you :-)

I’m looking forward to trusting you with my thoughts!

^{Look out for my first article, ‘The Path Dependence Feedback Loop and Investing in Women: The History of VC Juxtaposed to the History of Women.’ We’ll explore why putting makeup on the pig just leaves us with a glamorous pig, and why the real work of investing in women requires us to do the painful work of changing systems.}