Owned Businesses Stay Small—And What Actually Changes That

What Capital Can't Buy

What Santos figured out is that her next chapter is larger than skincare. She is building a hospitality and wellness brick-and-mortar—a physical space designed to serve as a hub for women entrepreneurs, a place to share knowledge, celebrate wins, and build the kind of peer infrastructure that well-capitalized founders access through investors and alumni networks.

Reaching that clarity required something capital couldn't supply: expertise. That is where The Acceleration Project entered.

The Acceleration Project—TAP—is a nonprofit founded in 2012 by Jane Veron, a former Bain and American Express strategist who believed the quality of advice available to Fortune 500 companies should not be a privilege reserved for those who could afford it. TAP's 200-plus consultants—69% of them actively working professionals, not retired executives—deliver free, bespoke advisory services covering finance, operations, strategy, marketing, and capital readiness.

According to an analysis by the Bridgespan Group, every dollar invested in TAP generates $10 in economic and community value, a 10:1 social return on investment—driven by revenue growth, job creation, and local reinvestment.

Against a national backdrop where half of small businesses close within five years, 92% of businesses TAP supports remain open a year after engagement, and 86% maintain or grow revenue.

Veron's diagnosis of the problem is precise, "The goal was to level the playing field, to provide access to networks, knowledge, and hand-holding to the small business owners who have been under-resourced but keep our country going."

The Wrong Room

TAP's most consequential intervention for Santos wasn't a workshop or a financial model. It was a single conversation with a TAP-connected advisor who helped her see she had spent years pitching to the wrong investors entirely. Traditional investors wanted financial returns on a product category they didn't recognize.

What Spadét's next chapter demands is impact capital—investors who understand that Santos is building a platform for women entrepreneurs, not just a product line. "I don't look like the person that they invest in normally," she acknowledges. "I'm not a man, and I'm a minority woman pitching a product they don't understand."

TAP also helped Santos complete a pitch deck she had been iterating through for years. "It took me to my promised land," she explains. "I needed clarity, to speak to someone I respected and get honest feedback."

What remains is access—the perpetual bottleneck for founders who, as Veron pointedly observes, often don't ask for enough. "Women don't always ask for as much capital as they should. It takes as much work to get small amounts of capital as large amounts—and we inhibit ourselves," Veron notes. Santos's stated goal, delivered without hesitation: $2 billion.

The Architecture Of Scale

Veron's vision for TAP is explicit. She calls it TAP for America, modeled on the national infrastructure of Teach for America—in every market, meeting businesses where they are at the moment they need help.

With Salesforce-backed systems, documented outcomes, and a growing roster of funders including Ares Charitable Foundation, Apollo Opportunity Foundation, Citi Foundation, eBay Foundation, and JPMorganChase, the organizational infrastructure to scale already exists. The only constraint, Veron argues, is funding—which is itself a version of the problem TAP was built to solve.

For Santos, the stakes are both personal and representative. The founder who assembled personal care kits for girls in foster care, put her soap into university bathrooms, and spent 12 years learning what she was actually building is now—with a finished pitch deck and a brick-and-mortar vision—ready to ask for what she is worth. "Size begets size," Veron observes.

The data, and Santos, agree.