Growing up as the only daughter with two older brothers in the Anderson household meant living in a constant state of being overlooked. My father, Harold Anderson, built his construction‑supply company from the ground up in the 1980s. He was a self‑made man who prided himself on his business acumen and traditional values.
In our family, tradition meant one thing: business was for men, and women belonged in supporting roles. From my earliest memories, I watched my father groom my brothers, James and Thomas, to take over Anderson Building Supply. He brought them to the office on weekends, teaching them inventory management, profit margins, and leadership.
When I asked to come along at eight, he laughed and patted my head. “This is boring stuff, princess. Why not help your mother with dinner instead?”
My mother, Elizabeth, was the perfect corporate wife.
She hosted business dinners, kept our home immaculate, and never contradicted my father in public. In private, she whispered encouragement to me—but always followed with, “Just don’t let your father hear about it.” She loved me. I know she did.
But she had accepted her role and expected me to do the same. Despite the lack of encouragement, I showed an aptitude for mathematics and computer science early. In third grade, I won the state mathematics competition, beating students two grades above me.
My father attended the ceremony, then remarked afterward that it was cute how I enjoyed playing with numbers. When my teacher called our house to suggest advanced classes and mentoring, he thanked her politely and never mentioned it again. By high school, I had taught myself to code through online tutorials and built a scheduling app the administration actually implemented to manage extracurricular activities.
The local newspaper ran a small story about it. My father saw the article and said, “Computers are just a phase. Real business happens face to face.”
When my brothers turned sixteen, they each received a new car.
I received a laptop my father deemed “practical for schoolwork.” He had no idea I’d use that laptop to begin building what would one day become Secure Connect, a company specializing in encrypted communication software for businesses. When college application season came, I applied to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology without telling my parents. My guidance counselor helped, recognizing what my parents could not.
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