
From Smiles to Strength: Dr. Hanene Tliba Redefines Empowerment
With over 13 years of clinical expertise and a thriving practice under her leadership, Dr. Hanene Tliba has mastered the art of transforming lives—one confident smile at a time. But her influence doesn’t stop at dentistry. As a growth-focused leader, mentor, and the powerful voice behind Speak Up Rise Up, Dr. Tliba is on a mission to uplift women, champion authenticity, and lead with empathy. In every space she enters—be it a clinic, boardroom, or podcast studio—she brings a rare blend of compassion, courage, and unapologetic truth.
You have over 13 years in dentistry—what first drew you to the profession, and how has your vision evolved?
At first, dentistry was pure magic to me — the thrill of using both heart and science to mend something broken. It felt like standing at the crossroads of skill and soul, where the smallest movements could spark life-changing transformations.
But somewhere along the journey, I understood something deeper: I wasn’t just fixing teeth — I was healing fear, self-esteem and dissolving shame. You matter. Your smile matters. Your story matters. Every patient is a universe, and with my gloves, my tools, and my heart, I am honored to step inside.
Today, my vision burns even brighter. I believe in a future of dentistry built on performance, excellence, and heart-driven innovation. A future where technology and aesthetic mastery come together to honor what is natural, with minimal intervention and maximum beauty.
Teams don’t just run on skills — they run on shared oxygen: trust, hunger, and a wild, unapologetic why.
I don’t build teams by filling seats. I build them by lighting fires.
Every person needs to know — not guess — that their work moves the mission forward.
Micromanagement suffocates the spirit. Empowerment fuels it.
I believe in radical ownership: every team member should feel like a co-creator, not a cog in a machine.
And yes, my standards are sky-high — not because I chase perfection, but because I demand care.
Excellence, to me, is not an accident. It’s what naturally happens when people are deeply, fiercely, and personally invested in what they’re building.
It started with a silence.
A silence I had felt for years — not just around me, but inside me too.
The silence where women’s struggles lived. The silence around imposter syndrome, around invisible fears, around questions we all carried but rarely voiced — or only whispered, as if asking for permission to feel.
I realized: there were too many conversations left unspoken.
Not conversations to complain, but conversations to build — to find solutions, to forge connections, to rise together.
Speak Up Rise Up was born from that need — but also from a personal challenge.
If I wanted to ask women to speak up, I had to be brave enough to do it myself.
I had to sit alone in front of that microphone, heart pounding, voice shaking, and say out loud what I had always thought in silence.
The first episode…
I still remember it vividly.
It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t perfect. But it was true.
I spoke about success — about how society had fed us one rigid, masculine blueprint for achievement, and how so many women, myself included, felt trapped inside it.
I dared to imagine a new kind of success: one shaped by authenticity, not imitation.
Success that looks like us — and is no less powerful because of it.
That first recording was more than an episode.It was a personal revolution. It was I who chose to trust my voice.
And every episode since then has been an extension of that first leap — a reminder that when women dare to speak, the world doesn’t fall apart.
It begins to heal.
How do you stay connected to your own identity amidst all the roles you play—dentist, leader, coach, mother, podcaster?
Honestly? I stopped chasing the illusion of perfect balance.
Life isn’t a performance where I switch costumes seamlessly from one role to another.
It’s a patchwork — messy, colorful, alive.
Some days, my “dentist” self takes the lead, steady and precise.
Some days, it’s the mother in me, fierce and tender.
And some days, it’s just me — the raw, unfiltered woman who needs space to breathe without apologizing for it.
I stay connected to myself by protecting small, sacred rituals — morning coffee alone with my thoughts, late-night pages scribbled in a journal, rebellious little acts like saying “no” without feeling the need to explain.
Those quiet choices are my anchors.
And maybe most importantly, I stay connected by rejecting the lie that I have to choose just one version of myself.
I am all of them.
I am none of them.
I am something still unfolding — a work in progress, and a masterpiece at once.
What kind of legacy do you hope to leave—both inside your clinic and through your voice in the world?
In my clinic, legacy isn’t about numbers or titles — it’s about the invisible threads we weave between people.
Every day, my mission is simple and sacred: to deliver the quality of care every patient deserves, to respect them, to create a space where trust, dialogue, and inspiration are possible.
Sometimes, I think — maybe a word I share, a moment of connection, will open a door inside someone.
A door into new possibilities.
This spirit lives through my team as well.
I work alongside women who elevate me as much as I try to elevate them.
We each contribute a piece of ourselves — a hand, a heart, a spark — to something bigger.
And in coaching them, I coach myself.
I grow with them.
They carry me forward, just as I hope to carry them.
Through my podcast Speak Up Rise Up, I continue this same thread: to share, to inspire, to create echoes strong enough to reach women who might recognize themselves in my words — women who might find courage, or clarity, or community.
If my voice helps even one woman to believe a little more in her strength, to act, to rise — then the ripple has begun.
I dream of a world where women are not each other’s competition, but each other’s catapults.
Where success isn’t solitary — it’s shared, amplified, multiplied.
That’s the legacy I want to leave — through my hands, my words, and the lives I touch along the way.
Success used to shimmer from a distance — diplomas, awards, applause.
It was a race, and I ran hard, chasing validation like it was oxygen.
But somewhere along the endless finish lines, I realized: I wasn’t chasing fulfilment. I was chasing approval. And approval, I learned, is a hungry ghost. It never feels full.
Today, success feels different.
It’s no longer something the world can hand me.
It’s something I build from within — through alignment.
Alignment with who I am.Alignment with my deepest values. Alignment with the life I want to live.
This question — what is success? — shaped me so much that I made it the topic of my very first podcast episode.
Because asking yourself the right questions doesn’t just change your direction — it changes your speed.
It accelerates your growth in the right way, toward the person you are meant to become.
Now, success is not about applause.
It’s about peace. It’s about impact.
It’s about using every scrap of my voice, my energy, and my gifts — not to impress the world, but to move it.
Even if just an inch. Even if just one heart at a time.
Who are the women—past or present—who have most shaped your voice and vision, and how do you honor their influence in your work?
The women who shaped me weren’t always standing on stages or printed in history books.
Some were close — women of my family, women of my everyday life — who built entire worlds from almost nothing, who loved fiercely in silence, who rose without waiting for permission.
They taught me that strength isn’t always loud.
That sometimes the bravest thing a woman can do is simply stay standing, stay speaking, stay dreaming when the world tells her to shrink.
I honor them by refusing to dilute my voice.
By carving out spaces where other women’s voices are not just allowed, but celebrated.
Through my work — whether in my clinic, leading my team, or behind the microphone — I try to create small revolutions: spaces of trust, of healing, of possibility.
Every time I share my truth, every time I lift another woman’s voice higher, I feel them standing behind me — a long, unbroken line of courage I am proud to belong to.
