Dare to Care: Life After Graduation: Building in the Unknown

BLOG Series by Erzsébet Ábrám  

Caring is costly, but so is waiting. This is my journey of opting out of “impact later.”

Ten months ago, I came to Columbia looking for answers. What I found instead was a new way of questioning – understanding how systems are built, who shapes them, and where my own agency fits within them. 

Graduation made these questions louder. Nothing felt certain anymore: my identity, my path, my future. For the first time, I didn’t know what the next step should be. All I knew was that I needed action. I felt the energy that comes with being young – the drive to build, the urge to create – but the how was blurry. I had ideas and problems I wanted to tackle in the long run, but no clear map for getting there. And knowing where you want to be without direction feels paralyzing.

Many mentors remind me that starting a career today is uniquely difficult. Everything shifts fast, so uncertainty isn’t a temporary phase; it’s the default. We try to fight it by overthinking and overplanning, sticking to rigid career steps, but that often makes us forget to actually live – to be spontaneous, open, human. The more I sat with the feeling of uncertainty, the more I realized that it is also fertile. It’s the space where you can pivot, experiment, or return to dreams you once shelved. It's where something new can actually take root.

People I look up to taught me that you don’t eliminate uncertainty; you learn to navigate it. You become your own anchor. In that space, something became undeniable for me: I’ve always been drawn to entrepreneurship. I’ve been a founder back home, I’ve supported innovators through my time at a family office, and I believe deeply in the transformative nature of entrepreneurship – that’s why I focused on it at Columbia, as well. I’m fascinated by how humans connect – to themselves, to each other, to their environment, to systems, and to technology. So, I started looking for the places where these interests meet: the corners of the innovation ecosystem where people are trying to strengthen these connections for good.

New York Tech Week arrived right in the middle of this search. However, it felt like the worst possible moment. I was moving apartments, job-hunting as a non‑US citizen, and living with the possibility that I might have to leave the country after June if the search doesn’t work out. I was exhausted and planned to attend a few events, smile politely, and go home early. I didn’t feel like someone on the verge of clarity; I felt like someone trying not to fall apart.

Then a friend texted me to ask if I planned on attending. I told him how drained I felt, and he pushed me through the first day. Sometimes all you need is one person to say: You can do it. Suddenly my week looked different. I was spending entire days bouncing between rooftops, co‑working spaces, and secret parties with hundreds of founders, investors, and innovators. I was running on coffee and 5-6 hours of sleep, but somehow I felt more energized than with a more balanced sleeping schedule. Being around people who were building things – even imperfectly – shifted something in me. They truly think that everything is possible. You need these people in your corner to believe the same.

What I experienced, though, was also surprising. I arrived at Tech Week with the idea that it’ll be filled with extremely smart people with whom we’ll talk about the hard challenges of humanity. About how technology is reshaping our society, and what we can do about it. Instead, I got a more realistic picture of the sector:

1. A lot of people were building cool things, but not necessarily useful ones. When technology is built only for those who can afford it, we end up solving the last 5% of convenience for the already comfortable, while ignoring the people whose lives could be transformed by 50%, 70%, even 100%. That's what I want to make cool – building for the people who need it most.

2. AI accelerates this dynamic. It’s never been easier to build something, but it’s never been harder to build something that actually matters. When the barrier to creation drops, discernment becomes the essential skill. The real differentiator is knowing what's worth building in the first place.

3. I also noticed how many people were confidently winging it. Bullshitting, even. And somehow they were still getting funding, building, moving forward. This gave me a strange sense of relief. If they can do it without questioning themselves, then I can do it too. Seeing people build without clarity underscored that progress comes from movement, not perfection.

4. Most of the people in these rooms were men. Being one of the few women made me hyper‑aware of how often women are expected to prove themselves twice before being taken seriously. I felt treated differently – less by my brain and more by my looks. This reminded me why representation matters: it shapes what gets built and who it serves.

5. And the myth of the “self‑made” entrepreneur? It dissolves the moment you step into these rooms. No one builds alone. The more independent we are – emotionally, intellectually, socially – the more isolated our ideas become. Real strength comes from networks, not isolation. A podcast I love, Philosophize This!, explores this beautifully in one of its episodes.

I used to think I needed a plan before I could start caring out loud. Tech Week taught me I don't.

Just like after Columbia, I left with more questions than answers. I still don’t know what my next step will be – if anything, just more doors opened. But the uncertainty feels different now. It feels less like a void and more like a landscape I can move through. I know that if I don’t do anything about the causes I care about, someone else will – and they might not act with the same intentions. I can’t control their choices, but I can shape my own path.

If you’re in any kind of transition phase, here’s my two cents: don’t wait for certainty. It’s not coming. Use the uncertainty as your raw material. Put yourself out there. Go to the events. Share what you care about. Have the questionable conversations. Let the inspiring ones change you. Take action. Let your care move you forward, not hold you back.