There’s a leadership archetype many of us inherited:
Be strong.
Be composed.
Don’t need (or ask for!) help.
Don’t feel.
“Never let ‘em see you sweat.”
For many, this isn’t a personality preference.
It’s survival inside systems that punish expressions of our humanness, stigmatizing it as “softness” and “weakness.”
Research consistently demonstrates this isn’t about performance. These behaviors don’t yield better outcomes in organizations. Yet they’re often rewarded with higher pay and more visible promotions.
Why?
Many scholars and researchers have dedicated their lives’ work to making sense of this contradiction. I won’t attempt to summarize their work here. I will, however, offer my own hypothesis.
Adultism.
If we felt unsafe as young people, we may look to someone outside ourselves to make it safe.
If we grew up with authoritarian-style parenting, we recognize this playbook in leaders and know how to obey.
If we didn’t feel smart, or we were told that adults always knew better, we may turn to someone who “looks smarter” to tell us what to do and even how to think.
If we felt small and helpless as young people, we may look for someone more powerful, with more resources, to “protect” us.
As adults, we look for that archetype in our leaders.
And we think becoming that archetype will be our path out.
As young people, adultism can leave us confused about how powerful we really are, and ashamed of showing vulnerability.
Many of us have never heard of adultism, let alone had a chance to heal from it.
Adultist patterns taken on by the adults around us (through no fault of their own) continue to shape what, and who, we think a “strong” leader is.
And we aren’t aware of the costs of performing this “strong leader” archetype.
At least not at first.
With a tremor in her voice, a recent participant described what it cost her to be the “strong Black woman” as a leader in her organization, her family, and society as a whole.
“I wasn’t allowed to show anything. The cost of showing feelings, of being vulnerable, was too high. I knew it from really early. As a Black girl. I pushed down everything to be strong.” And after a long pause, she barely whispered, “And I’m exhausted. I don’t have anything left to give.”
Emotional healing is not a sign of weakness.
If you’ve been trapped by societal expectations or conditioning in the “strong” leader role, here’s what it can cost:
🧭 Disconnection from your own needs
↔️ Distance from your team
🔥 Over-responsibility that turns into burnout
💣 Reactivity because your body never gets to release
This is not an individual failing.
It’s an extractive view of leadership, and the result of adultism in our society.
I ask you: “What would it mean to lead without abandoning yourself? Any part of yourself?”
I wonder: “What would it mean to redefine ‘strong’ and ‘powerful’ to mean connecting with your vulnerability?”
It takes true strength and support to feel.
If you’ve been white knuckling it, I want you to know there’s another way — one that doesn’t require you to burn out, check out, or numb out first.
If this resonates, consider sharing it with someone who’s been carrying too much alone. And if you’re ready to practice a different way of leading, start with one small move: name what you’re feeling (without fixing it), and let it be real.