Borrow my boots: The power of showing up for one another

When Tami Neilson walked off the stage at Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium after a dream-come-true Patsy Cline tribute concert, she had no idea her next fan would become one of her biggest champions. The next morning, she woke to a message from Grammy-winning country artist Ashley McBryde, who had been on the same line-up and had gone home to dig through Neilson’s catalogue of music. Soon after, McBryde began championing Neilson publicly – sharing her songs, tagging her in posts and telling red-carpet reporters at the Country Music Awards (CMA) that she’d been listening to Neilson’s Careless Woman as her “hype song” before the awards. A few weeks later she asked permission to create a T-shirt with Neilson’s face and the line “I wanna be her when I grow up” to wear while hosting the CMA’s summer music festival, a playful but powerful act of visibility that turned admiration into amplification.

That relationship of mutual respect eventually led to collaboration. When Neilson later conceived a song about women supporting one another, she invited McBryde to co-write it, alongside fellow artist Shelly Fairchild. The result was Borrow My Boots – an anthem for sisterhood performed on the stage at Neilson’s Grand Ole Opry debut, with an all-female lineup.

It’s an irresistible story: one woman spotting another’s brilliance and deciding not just to admire it, but to amplify it. McBryde didn’t wait for permission or a formal invitation. She simply used her voice and her platform to say ‘this woman deserves to be seen’. And that’s exactly what sponsorship is.

In governance and leadership, we often talk about mentoring, offering guidance, sharing wisdom and helping others navigate the system. Sponsorship goes a step further. It’s active, visible advocacy. It’s putting your own reputation behind someone else’s potential. It’s recommending them for the opportunity in the first place, not just advising them on how to apply.

My recent master’s research into pathways into governance found that many directors, particularly women and those from under-represented groups, credit a sponsor for opening the door: someone who spoke their name in the right room, who vouched for their capability when they weren’t in the conversation. Yet, when asked if they themselves sponsor others, far fewer said yes. There’s a hesitation that comes from wanting to be fair or not play favourites. But sponsorship isn’t favouritism; it’s recognition. It’s using the influence you’ve earned to lift up someone who might not yet have the same visibility.

Just as McBryde didn’t wait for Neilson to find her audience, sponsors don’t wait for talent to self-promote; they see potential and step forward to shine a light on it. The concept of “borrowing my boots” is a powerful metaphor for this kind of advocacy. It’s saying: I’ve walked this path. It was hard-won, but there’s room for you too. So take my boots, walk a few steps further.

In governance terms that might mean introducing someone to a network, recommending them for a board role, or simply speaking about their strengths in front of others. It could mean nominating a capable deputy for an acting position or ensuring an emerging director is given the chance to chair a committee. These moments are small in effort but large in consequence. They create visibility and belonging.

Research on women’s progression into leadership consistently highlights the sponsorship gap. Men are statistically more likely to have senior advocates who actively promote them. Women, by contrast, are more likely to have mentors who advise but don’t publicly champion them. This contributes to slower progression and fewer opportunities for exposure at the highest levels. The gap isn’t about ambition, it’s about access. Sponsorship changes that. It disrupts the cycle by normalising the act of saying, she’s ready.

There’s also a cultural dimension that matters deeply in Aotearoa New Zealand. The Māori concept of manaakitanga – showing care, respect and generosity – aligns naturally with sponsorship. It’s about lifting others so the collective rises. In boardrooms, that might look like intentionally creating pathways for emerging Māori, Pasifika and diverse directors, ensuring governance reflects the communities we serve. When I think about sponsorship, I’m reminded of how often directors tell me their first board role came from someone who ‘put their name forward’. In many cases, that one act changed the trajectory of a career. Yet, sponsorship is rarely built into our governance systems. We rely on informal networks, the very networks that can exclude those who aren’t already in them. If we want more inclusive boards, we need to make sponsorship intentional, not accidental.

What the Borrow My Boots story also reminds us, is that sponsorship doesn’t require hierarchy. McBryde was already a star, yes, but her gestures weren’t grand, they were simple acts of visibility: sharing a post, wearing a T-shirt, inviting collaboration. In governance, the same principle applies. You don’t need to be the board chair to sponsor someone. You just need to notice them, believe in them and speak their name when opportunity arises. It also challenges the myth that championing others diminishes our own success; in reality, it strengthens it. Neilson has said that performing Borrow My Boots with McBryde, Fairchild and Bowers felt like watching the song come to life, a celebration of women quite literally putting its message into action.

The same is true in leadership. When women advocate for women, we create momentum that benefits everyone. We normalise excellence, visibility and confidence. We leave a wake that others can follow. The wake we leave behind is often made up of small, deliberate acts: sharing knowledge, making introductions or ensuring someone’s voice is heard. Sponsorship turns that intention into action. It’s choosing to be the person who says, ‘borrow my boots’.

For directors, that means asking ourselves: Who have I spoken up for lately? Whose name have I put forward? Who might be one introduction away from their next opportunity? Our networks and reputations are powerful currencies. Using them generously doesn’t deplete them, it multiplies their value. Whether it’s in music, leadership or governance, the message is the same: admiration is nice, but action is better. Don’t just applaud from the audience. Step onto the stage beside someone and hand them the mic – or the boots – and say, your turn.