Why This Matters for Leadership
In today’s organizations, leadership presence is often misunderstood. It’s treated as a matter of polish—how someone dresses, speaks, or commands attention. But real presence doesn’t come from projecting more. It comes from disappearing less.
The most effective leaders aren’t the ones who dominate the room. They’re the ones who show up congruently and create space for others to do the same. They model presence by being fully present—not through perfection, but through self-trust, self-awareness, and relational clarity.
And here’s the truth: you can’t help others feel seen if you’re still hiding yourself.
That’s not a judgment. It’s a pattern I know intimately.
I’ve worked in male-dominated environments where I had to prove myself just to be taken seriously. I’ve been overlooked, underestimated, and taught—both explicitly and subtly—that visibility comes at a cost. I’ve also coached brilliant leaders who carry those same scars: quietly exceptional people who’ve learned to minimize themselves in order to belong.
For many professionals—especially women, racialized leaders, and first-generation success stories—the behaviors that helped them survive early environments now limit their leadership impact. They over-function. They overthink. They hold back.
These aren’t mindset problems. They are nervous system strategies.
When Playing Small Is a Survival Strategy
One of the most under-discussed forces shaping leadership behavior is the fawn response—a trauma-informed concept also known as appeasement.
Most of us are familiar with the classic stress responses: fight, flight, and freeze. But trauma researchers, including Pete Walker and Deb Dana, have identified a fourth: fawn. This response often emerges in individuals who learned that the best way to stay safe—emotionally or physically—was to be likable, agreeable, helpful, or invisible.
As Deb Dana (2020) explains through Polyvagal Theory, when we don’t feel psychologically safe, our bodies will default to the strategy most likely to preserve connection and reduce threat. Appeasement is one of those strategies.
In high-functioning professionals, appeasement doesn’t always look like fear. It often looks like:
Over-editing yourself in meetings
Prioritizing likability over clarity
Downplaying your expertise because you fear being seen as “too much”
Avoiding conflict even when your perspective is essential
Taking notes when you should be leading the conversation
These behaviors are often misinterpreted as a lack of confidence. But they’re not. They are survival responses to past environments where showing up fully wasn’t safe. And they are especially common in professionals who have faced marginalization or been socialized into chronic self-monitoring.
From Survival to Leadership: Carol’s Story
Take, for example, a client I’ll call Carol.
She was a senior leader at a financial institution—brilliant, strategic, and highly respected. When she presented to a group of executives, her ideas were solid and her delivery composed. But I noticed the subtle signs of self-protection: her body slightly angled away from the group, eyes fixed more on the screen than on the room, and a carefulness in her voice that didn’t match her intelligence.
Afterward, she came up to me and asked,
“How do I present with more confidence?”
When we spoke, she shared something that cut to the core:
“I feel like I have a big voice… but I silence myself.”
As we unpacked this, it became clear: Carol had learned—through years of coded feedback—that her strength made others uncomfortable. That her passion might be misinterpreted. That her assertiveness could be read as aggression. She works in a male-dominated industry. She’s racialized. She’s a woman.
The messages she received weren’t about performance. They were about how much of herself it was safe to bring into the room.
So she adjusted. Like many high-performing professionals, she found a way to succeed while keeping parts of herself quiet. She wasn’t struggling with confidence. She was struggling with the internalized belief that her full presence wasn’t welcome.
From Performance to Presence
Carol didn’t need to be fixed. She needed to stop shrinking. And she needed to stop questioning her right to take up space.
We started with small but strategic shifts:
Naming her ideas first in meetings
Reframing confidence as self-advocacy without apology
Identifying the physical cues in her body that signaled self-censorship
Mapping her relational safety using the Trust Formula—a leadership framework I developed to help professionals assess where their voice is constrained and why
But the most important shift wasn’t tactical. It was identity-based.
It happened when Carol realized she didn’t need to lead like anyone else. Her voice wasn’t too much. It was simply unpracticed in its fullness—and that could change.
🔎 Leadership Mirror Check-In
A Tool to Reclaim Voice and Value
If any part of Carol’s story resonates with you, I invite you to use this reflection exercise to tune into your own leadership presence.
Step 1: Notice
Think of a recent situation where you held back. What did your body do? (Did you lower your voice? Cross your arms? Look away?) What were you protecting in that moment?
Step 2: Name
Identify the internal belief that was operating.
Examples:
“If I speak up, I’ll be seen as difficult.”
“I need to wait until I’ve perfected this.”
“I don’t want to be too much.”
Step 3: Update
Write a new, grounded belief rooted in truth:
“My voice adds value, even when it’s imperfect.”
“It’s safe for me to take up space in this room.”
“I don’t need to be smaller to be effective.”
Step 4: Practice a Micro-Move
Choose one small action this week that aligns with your updated belief:
Speak early in a conversation
Say “I’d like to offer a perspective” before editing yourself
Sit forward. Make eye contact. End with a period instead of a question mark
Remember: reclaiming voice isn’t about becoming louder. It’s about becoming congruent—so that what’s inside you matches how you show up.
Final Words
If you’ve been praised for being accommodating, rewarded for playing it safe, or encouraged to edit your expression in order to belong—let me say this clearly:
You’re not too much. You’re not asking for too much by wanting to be heard. And your presence is not a performance—it’s a gift.
You belong here. Not because you’ve perfected your performance, but because you’ve finally stopped performing.
My work today is a conversation with the unseen child in me. And if you’re ready, it can be a conversation with the unseen child in you, too.