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Thu, Dec 11, 2025 | Jumada al-Thani 20, 1447 | Fajr 05:31 | DXB 
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Why you’re your own best crisis manager in the world of Crypto
Answering questions nobody else can when it comes to cryptocurrency
In a now-famous speech, the American actress, producer and entrepreneur Reese Witherspoon, a brilliant actress, businesswoman and entrepreneur-turned-producer, talks about the one thing she hated about movies.
It happens traditionally in film: when things start going south, the female lead turns to the male and asks, “What are we going to do?”
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The clip went viral for a reason: because we know that women are as good as men in crises. Why this line is so common in movies probably has a lot to do with how many men have been involved in making them, of course. Witherspoon got into choosing, developing and producing her own projects so she could change all that, doing her part to evolve cinema – and humans – along the way. Because when little girls, teenagers and grown women see themselves reflected on the big screen, giving up agency when the going gets tough enough times, it trains our brains over time to do it in real life, too.
Last week, the crypto markets tanked – again. It shook even the most committed believers. It shook me too – more than any other dip in the last 18 months. And when it happened, for just a few minutes, I became the woman in the movie.
I found myself scouring the messages in my Telegram crypto group for some encouragement – and I couldn’t find any. The guys were either silent or defeated. The leader of the community, who can always be counted on for straight-talking words of encouragement in the worst of times, had nothing.
No fight, no fire – just a bleak prediction. He was saying things like this: “Everything’s going down more. Bitcoin’s going to 90.”
I know he knew the dip was temporary, but still. He has millions invested, and he was clearly rattled. I started to panic. Then I realised what I believe in and I remembered why I invested in this space in the first place, and I did something that surprised me: I decided to sell some of my crypto – not out of fear, but to try and capitalise on the drops.
I sold about a fourth of my investment, betting that if bitcoin and Ethereum were headed lower, I’d buy back in and end up with more. But the market didn’t really crash further. Bitcoin didn’t ‘go to 90’. It only briefly dropped below $100,000. Ethereum dropped by a few hundred dollars.
It was an interesting experiment, my 36 hours as a swing trader. I wouldn’t want to repeat it. Essentially, I began to reverse-panic a bit, worrying that both would rise beyond what I’d sold them for. These are long-term investments, after all. So I spent time I didn’t have buying back in at a slightly lower price, maybe $600 or $700 less than what I sold for.
I ended up with “a bit” more of both. Between the high fees of this space and the spread (that’s the difference between the buy and sell price on an exchange at any moment), I’m not sure any of it will amount to anything. And until I have more time on my hands, I’m definitely not going to be doing it again – at least not until both hit new all-time highs.
But the real lesson last week wasn’t financial. It was emotional. Existential, even. I made a decision, and then I dealt with the consequences. It was stressful, but it was mine.
In my 20s, 30s and 40s, I used to conduct a poll of many people in my circle whenever I had a big decision to make – and it was a very counterproductive thing to do. First of all, the noise was deafening. Second, why would I think another average person would know what I should do? In those years, I lived with an internal dissonance, one that comes from listening to external forces over that one true voice inside – the one that always knows what you really want.
What I learned over those decades is that no one is coming to save us, and no one else has the answers. You can look at that as depressing, or you can do what the best of the crypto community has done: let it be a catalyst. For taking charge, owning your sovereignty, and doing the hard work of listening, learning, falling, and rising—until you understand that the only opinion that truly matters is your own.On Tuesday night, the women’s crypto group I’m part of held an emergency call. The group leader admitted she’d also caught herself looking to men for reassurance, too, at first. Then she checked herself. Because despite the dip, nothing had really changed for her either: not the fundamentals, not her belief in the macroeconomics, in blockchain technology and in the projects she’d chosen. We all nodded in agreement. It was amazing.
And that’s when it clicked for me. We may have been conditioned to look to men for answers in a crisis, but we don’t have to anymore. After all, it has been my experience with male investment advisors over the years – the ones who used fear, who talked down to me, who shrugged off my questions and concerns – that led me to take ownership of my financial life in the first place.
I forgive myself for looking to a man for answers in the middle of a crash. I’m curious that I corrected and then felt bold enough to try and take advantage of the dip. And I’m looking forward with anticipation: not just to the possibility of an alt season, but to being invested for the long-term in an entirely new financial system that most of the world so far knows nothing about.
Whatever comes next, I’m always ready to learn from people who are more experienced than I am. But I am done with asking anyone else what I should do.
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