The Surprising Strength I found in Leading Authentically

I used to think that vulnerability was something to hide. Like most people raised in a culture that praised grit, stoicism, and “never let them see you sweat,” I believed that showing emotions at work—real, raw, human emotions—meant I’d be seen as weak, unprofessional, or incapable. Especially in leadership. Especially at work. Especially as a woman in tech.

So, I armored up. I learned to speak in facts, not feelings. I smiled through burnout. I swallowed hard truths and pushed through, because that’s what I thought strong leaders did.

And then—life, as always, invited me to feel what I had been avoiding.

I was leading a team through a high-stress transition. Everyone was stretched thin, including me. One morning, instead of powering through the usual pep talk, I told my team the truth: I was tired. I was overwhelmed. I didn’t have all the answers, but I was committed to finding a way forward—with them.

I held my breath, waiting for the judgment, the silence, the loss of confidence.

But instead… something amazing happened.

They leaned in.

One teammate spoke up about their struggles. Another offered a solution I hadn’t even considered. The whole room softened. We got real. And from that moment on, we were stronger—not because we had it all together, but because we knew we didn’t have to pretend. It built trust. It created connection.

For so long, vulnerability was synonymous with weakness. In boardrooms and breakrooms alike, we were taught to armor up. Leaders were expected to be flawless, to exude certainty, and to never, ever admit they were struggling. But the truth is, that version of leadership isn’t real. And more importantly, it isn’t sustainable.

Real leadership doesn’t come from pretending to be invincible—it comes from being authentic.

In today’s world, vulnerability is quickly becoming recognized for what it truly is: a superpower. Brené Brown, a researcher who has almost single-handedly rebranded vulnerability in the public eye, defines it as “uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure.” Watch her captivating talk about the topic here.

Leaders who are vulnerable build trust faster. Why? Because people don’t follow perfect leaders—they follow relatable ones. When you admit you don’t have all the answers, when you ask for help, when you own your mistakes—you create space for others to do the same. And that’s where innovation, connection, and real progress happen.

I’ve seen this over and over again, and I’ve lived it through the stories of people I deeply respect.

The SVP who hid motherhood.

Years ago, a woman I know—now an SVP at a major tech company—once shared something with me that’s never left my mind.

As she climbed the corporate ladder, she hid the fact that she was a mother. For nearly a decade, she kept that part of her life quiet. If she had to leave for a school event or a doctor’s appointment for her kids, she’d simply say she had a “meeting.” She never talked about her kids at work—not to peers, not to leaders.

Why? She was afraid that being open about her role as a mom would make her seem less focused, less serious, or somehow weaker. And as a woman in tech, that fear was even more intense. In an industry where strength is prized, vulnerability can feel like a risk.

But eventually, something shifted. She started showing up differently—more fully, more honestly. She stopped hiding and began leading as her whole self. And not long after that, she rose into the SVP role.

She shared that it wasn’t proving herself that made the difference—it was the moment she stopped hiding that everything changed.

The executive who made it safe to be real.

Another leader I deeply admire—a senior executive who taught me a lot about what real leadership looked like—modeled something even rarer: real-time, unfiltered vulnerability.

In all-hands meetings, he often said, “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m going to learn and try.”

He shared stories of past failures, moments when he struggled, and what those experiences taught him. He even spoke openly about how he worked through times of feeling overwhelmed. His honesty made him relatable.

And it made him someone you wanted to follow, not because he had all the answers, but because he created space for all of us to show up as we were. Because he was being human, we felt safe being human too.

His openness became his superpower. And he taught me it could be mine too.

Being vulnerable doesn’t mean you have to overshare or wear your heart on your sleeve all the time. It simply means being real. Being human. And that’s what people crave—especially now in a time of uncertainty.

So if you’re in a position of leadership—whether you’re running a team, a company, or just showing up as a leader in your own life—I want to offer this:

Let people see you.

Not just the polished version. Not just the wins. Let them see the doubt, the learning, the questions. That’s where the magic is. That’s where trust grows. That’s where leadership lives.

Vulnerability isn’t the opposite of strength—it’s what makes strength real.

And if you’ve ever been told to toughen up, to hide your heart, or to lead with armor… maybe it’s time to unlearn that. Maybe it’s time to lead differently.

Because in a world full of filters and facades, being vulnerable might be the bravest—and most powerful—thing you can do.