In her 16-year tech career, Jenna Wyer helped build five startups—including Venmo and Recurly—that ballooned into dominating corporations valued at more than a billion dollars.
She was traveling around as a high-powered executive and, as a second-generation Filipina, was usually the only female minority in a conference room full of men.
One day, Wyer walked away from it all.
She was at the top of her professional game, but personally, she was hitting bottom. Wyer survived two malignant ovarian tumors, which she attributes to the stress of her career, and yearned for more time with family than in airports and hotels.
"I was successful on paper, but inside, I was so unhappy," says Wyer, who considered the example she was setting for her three children, now 26, 23, and 7. "I didn't want them to think that was the life they had to lead to find success."
That motivated Wyer to leave the tech industry last fall. She took some time to heal and find her self-worth after being in a field where she wasn't valued or treated well.
"I'm glad that I'm able to show them that even though it's risky, it's never too late to rewrite your story," Wyer says. "They have the power to free themselves if they find themselves in a difficult situation."
Wyer says her grandmother, Dolly, taught her so much about overcoming life challenges, having moved from the Philippines to the United States to build a new life. Her grandmother also taught her about self-care, including teaching her a beauty regimen at a very young age. Her grandmother taught her about resilience and that although life would not be easy, she could be successful with an education and hard work.
Dolly is the reason Wyer named her space SERÀ Collective, as the words of the song Que Sera, Sera still ring in her head. It was a song Dolly sang to Wyer as a young child.
Not only were her children the driving force behind Wyer's life-changing and lifesaving move, but her oldest daughter was also a source of inspiration for Wyer's current venture.
SERÀ Collective, a salon suites concept that offers spaces to professionals in an array of industries and a content creation room where they can film and do podcasts, is that vision coming to life.
SERÀ is a brick-and-mortar realization of the space that Wyer wished her oldest daughter had access to when she was 16, when, with Wyer's help, she had launched a global lash brand.
At the time, Wyer couldn't find what her daughter desired—an aesthetic space that wasn't cold and sterile and that accommodated an area to create social media content.
"It all comes back to what she wanted but couldn't find," Wyer says.
About half the business owners that operate out of SERÀ are minority women-owned. Many share Wyer's story of struggle, being working moms and trying to prove themselves amid white male-dominated arenas. She wanted to give women entrepreneurs a safe and supportive place to achieve their dreams.
"I thought, if I couldn't find my community, I'm going to build my community," Wyer says. "In many ways, they are braver than I. It fills my soul watching what they do and empowering them to build what they build."
Born and raised in Chicago, Wyer dropped out of high school and had her oldest daughter when she was 18. She met her husband six months after her daughter was born, completed high school, and, with a 3-year-old and a newborn, attended the University of Illinois, Chicago, where she graduated.
In 2008, she met the founder of then-startup Braintree, a provider of mobile and web payment systems for e-commerce companies. She was the founding VP of sales, where she helped build billion-dollar companies, including Uber and Airbnb.
She moved to Arizona, where she had family and could be closer to the tech hub of the Bay Area.
Her middle daughter has followed in her mother's footsteps and, after college, now works selling AI technology. Wyer wishes she had chosen another industry, knowing how challenging her own experience was as a woman in tech. Still, she has already seen her daughter flourish quickly, learning to build thick skin and not let a job define her or run her down.
Wyer uses her experiences in They Rise Up, through which she mentors women professionals navigating the working world while balancing a career and family.
"I wanted people to know they weren't alone," Wyer says. "I share my story, but most importantly, I want to let people know it's possible."
Three years ago, her oldest daughter was forced to close her beauty brand during the pandemic. The process to get there was difficult for Wyer to witness as both a mom and a fellow businesswoman, especially because her daughter was initially set on not allowing the experience to break her company, into which she had invested six figures.
Wyer stood back and let her find her way, until her daughter asked for advice.
"It was sad for me to watch her struggle on her own. As a mom, I wanted to protect her from hurtful things. The entrepreneurial side wanted to say, 'Hey girl, I got the answers for you,'" Wyer says.
"Raising two minority daughters, I'm so proud of what they both have accomplished, especially with the odds being against them—one being in tech, and the other an entrepreneur," Wyer says. "I want to be as brave as them when I grow up."
"I'm glad that I'm able to show them that even though it's risky, it's never too late to rewrite your story. They have the power to free themselves ... ."