"Impact Doesn't Begin With Permission": A Conversation with Pari Agarwal

People often celebrate resilience only after it becomes a success story.

Social media introduces us to achievements, awards, leadership positions, and carefully curated milestones. Behind many of those accomplishments, however, are experiences that rarely make it into headlines — grief, self-doubt, responsibility, rebuilding, and the quiet decision to keep moving forward when nobody is watching.

For Pari Agarwal, leadership did not begin with titles, awards, or public recognition. It emerged from personal loss, difficult questions, and a growing determination to create spaces where young people, particularly young women, could feel informed, empowered, and heard. Before formally beginning law school, she founded initiatives such as She Leads Law, YouthInLaw, Project Awaaz, and Re-Educating Memory, building platforms centered around legal awareness, advocacy, education, and meaningful social impact.

Her work has earned recognition through achievements such as placing in the Top 25% of nearly 10,000 entries in The New York Times Open Letters Contest, becoming a Moonshot Award finalist, and receiving offers and scholarships from universities across multiple countries. Yet what stands out most is not the list of accomplishments, but the perspective behind them.

In an era where visibility is often mistaken for impact, Pari's journey offers a different conversation — one about empathy, purpose, resilience, and the courage to begin before feeling completely ready.

We spoke with Pari about grief, leadership, women's empowerment, vulnerability, social impact, and the lessons she learned long before stepping into a law school classroom.

1. A lot of people see leadership through achievements, awards, or public recognition. But your journey also reflects grief, rebuilding, and emotional resilience. How has personal pain shaped the way you lead and connect with people today?

For a long time, I thought leadership was about being the strongest person in the room. Grief completely changed that understanding for me.

Losing my mother at a young age forced me to grow up much earlier than I expected. There were moments when I was trying to lead projects, attend classes, and appear composed while quietly carrying a lot of pain. What that experience taught me is that everyone is fighting battles we cannot see.

Today, I lead with far more empathy than I ever could have before. I care less about titles and more about creating spaces where people feel heard, valued, and supported. Personal pain taught me that leadership is not about having all the answers; it is about making sure people do not feel alone while finding their own.

2. You started initiatives like She Leads Law, YouthInLaw, and Project Awaaz even before formally beginning law school. What made you feel that waiting for the "perfect time" or "perfect qualification" was not necessary to start creating impact?

I realized that impact does not begin when someone gives you permission to create it.

As students, we often tell ourselves that we will start once we are older, more experienced, or more qualified. But many of the issues I cared about like legal awareness, access to opportunities, and women's empowerment were affecting people right now, so taking action couldn't wait.

I never claimed to have all the answers. What I did have was curiosity, determination, and the willingness to learn. If I could connect people to resources, start conversations, or help even one person better understand their rights, then there was already value in beginning.

My goal was never to reach a specific number of people. I believed that creating meaningful impact, even in the life of a single individual, was valuable. While scale is important, I found it more motivating to focus on the depth of change rather than the number of people reached. Knowing that my work could genuinely improve one person's situation was enough to make the effort worthwhile.

Sometimes the biggest barrier is not a lack of qualifications; it is waiting for confidence to arrive before taking action.

3. Your writing often talks about women being expected to endure silently. Do you think young women today are genuinely becoming more empowered, or are they still quietly carrying emotional burdens behind ambitious public identities?

I think both realities exist at the same time.

Young women today are undoubtedly more empowered than previous generations in many ways. More girls are pursuing leadership positions, higher education, entrepreneurship, and careers that were once considered inaccessible. Their voices are louder and their ambitions are bigger.

At the same time, I think many young women still feel pressure to be everything at once; to be successful, resilient, confident, and composed. Social media often celebrates achievement while hiding struggle.

So while empowerment has grown, emotional burdens have not disappeared. Real empowerment is not just giving women a seat at the table; it is creating environments where they do not feel pressured to suffer in silence while sitting there.

4. In one of your posts, you mentioned that kindness was not something you received easily, but something you became. Do you think empathy becomes stronger when it comes from lived experience rather than comfort?

I think lived experience gives empathy a certain depth that is difficult to learn in any other way.

When you have experienced loss, disappointment, loneliness, or uncertainty, you begin to understand how much people can be carrying beneath the surface. You become less focused on judging their reactions and more focused on understanding their struggles.

Some of the kindest people I have met are not those who have had the easiest lives, but those who have faced hardship and consciously chosen not to let it harden them.

For me, empathy was born from realizing how transformative a small act of kindness can be during someone's most difficult moments. I could not always control what happened to me, but I could control the kind of person I became because of it.

In that sense, kindness became more than a trait; it became a decision. And I think the most powerful empathy often comes from people who have known what it feels like to need it themselves.

5. Many students dream of studying abroad, and you had opportunities to do so as well. Yet you chose to begin your legal journey in India. What influenced that decision emotionally and intellectually?

For me, choosing to study law in India was never about taking a less ambitious path; it was about choosing the path that aligned most closely with my goals.

Many of the issues that sparked my interest in law, such as legal awareness, women's rights, and access to justice, are rooted in the Indian context. I felt that if I wanted to create meaningful change, I first needed to understand the legal system, institutions, and social realities that directly shape the communities I hope to serve.

Emotionally, India is where my purpose was formed. The experiences that influenced my writing, my initiatives, and my commitment to advocacy all emerged from the society around me. Beginning my legal education here felt like the most authentic starting point for the journey I want to build.

That being said, my decision was never about rejecting international education. In fact, I do hope to pursue further education abroad in the future. I strongly value the global perspectives, academic exposure, and opportunities that studying abroad can provide. For me, it was simply a question of where I wanted to begin. I chose to build my foundation in India first and then potentially expand my learning globally later on.

I deeply respect students who choose to study abroad, but I also think we have reached a point where it is sometimes viewed as the default definition of success rather than one of many possible paths.

If there is one thing I would encourage young people to do, it is to make decisions based on their own aspirations rather than trends or external expectations. The university you choose, the country you study in, and the opportunities you pursue will shape not just your education, but potentially your entire career and future. Because of that, the right choice is not necessarily the most popular one; it is the one that best aligns with who you are, what you value, and the impact you hope to create.

6. Your work and writing balance vulnerability with confidence — something many people struggle to do publicly. Was there ever a point where you feared being "too personal" online, especially while speaking about grief, identity, or healing?

Absolutely.

There were many moments when I wondered whether sharing certain experiences would make people see me as weak, emotional, or overly personal. The internet can be a place where vulnerability is misunderstood.

But over time, I realized that authenticity creates connection. Some of the messages that meant the most to me came from people who said, "I thought I was the only one who felt this way."

I learned that vulnerability does not weaken credibility. When shared thoughtfully, it can strengthen it. The goal was never to overshare — it was to remind people that strength and struggle can exist in the same person at the same time.

7. Platforms focused on empowerment and youth advocacy are growing rapidly today. In your opinion, what separates genuine social impact from work that only looks inspiring on social media?

I think the difference lies in intention and consistency.

Today, it is easier than ever to appear impactful. A well-designed post, a powerful caption, or a viral campaign can create the impression of change. But genuine social impact is measured by what happens beyond visibility.

For me, impact begins when people leave a conversation, workshop, or initiative with something tangible; whether that is knowledge, confidence, opportunity, or support. It is not about how many people are watching, but how many people are actually being helped.

I have learned that some of the most meaningful work rarely makes it to social media. It happens in one-on-one conversations, in classrooms, in communities, and in moments where nobody is documenting the effort.

Social media can be a powerful tool for awareness, but awareness is only the first step. Real impact is what remains after the post is forgotten.

8. Looking at everything you've built so far — from leadership initiatives to deeply personal writing — what would you want a young student, especially a girl struggling with self-worth or self-doubt, to truly understand from your journey?

I would want her to understand that her circumstances do not get the final say over her future.

There were moments in my life when I felt lost, uncertain, and convinced that I was not enough. I know what it feels like to question your worth and wonder whether anyone truly sees your potential.

But confidence is not something you suddenly wake up with one day. It is built through small acts of courage like speaking up once more, trying again after failure, showing up when things feel difficult.

You do not have to become someone else to be worthy of success, love, respect, or opportunity. The goal is not perfection. The goal is growth.

If my journey proves anything, I hope it proves that some of the strongest people are not the ones who never break. They are the ones who rebuild, again and again, and choose to keep moving forward.

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Connect with Pari Agarwal

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/pari-agarwal-39a5a0262/

She Leads Law Website: https://sheleadslaw.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sheleadslaw

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About Conversations by Brains in You

Conversations by Brains in You is a series dedicated to exploring the journeys, perspectives, experiences, and ideas of students, professionals, creators, and changemakers across different fields. Beyond achievements and titles, these conversations aim to uncover the lessons, challenges, and insights that shape the people behind the profiles.