In business, our greatest successes are often credited to great leaders -- to men and women who exhibit unflagging devotion to their companies' ideals, to the care of their customers, and to the daily acknowledgement that their employees are their greatest assets. And when it comes to the character traits required of such "great leaders," the descriptions often center around strength -- toughness, courage, perseverance, and the ability to forego one's personal needs in favor of the "greater good."
So, for most of us climbing the rungs of the corporate ladder, the last trait we would consider embracing is "vulnerability." And yet, the willingness to be vulnerable in business might very well be what separates good leaders from great leaders -- and overwrought professionals from those whose careers bring them balance, fulfillment and joy.
Early in my career, I determined that being tough was the key to success -- particularly for women in business. I accepted my first director-level role at just 28 and quickly found myself trying to prove my worth among colleagues with more experience, more tenure, more graduate degrees, more gray hair, and more -- well, let's admit it -- testosterone. In that particular organization, there were only two kinds of women in executive leadership roles -- the "sugar and spice" women who had been promoted by the old boys' network for the softness and balance they brought to the board room (carried in, of course, on stiletto heels), and the female leaders who had checked their femininity at the door and were hoping beyond hope that their boxy business suits and tireless hours at the office would somehow level the playing field. And I, for one, was not about to become the kind of leader who sustains her power by filling the office candy bowl, smiling sweetly, deferring always to the president (even when he's wrong), and scheduling the next cosmetic surgery procedure well in advance of needing it.
Let me step back for a moment to clarify that this blog post is not a lesson on gender disparities in business -- not a diatribe on embracing femininity in the workplace. My journey toward understanding the value of vulnerability in business has been colored (and delayed, I think) by my experiences as a female leader, but what I have learned would serve me equally well if I were a man -- in any industry, at any age, and under any circumstance.
Here's where my thinking got off track many years ago -- I equated vulnerability with weakness. And I attributed weakness to the softness that women are socialized to embrace. I read books like Nice Girls Don't Get the Corner Office, and I spouted nail-spitting phrases like "I'm not here to be liked. I'm here to be respected."
Looking back, I don't regret the years I spent being a "tough" business professional. I suspect my previous outlook and the behavior it inspired gave me the confidence to assert myself in a tough industry and to achieve a great deal for my colleagues and customers. But recently, my career has called out for a dose of balance. I got it by embracing vulnerability as a business asset. And you can too.
Imagine what your organization could achieve if you let down your guard long enough to admit that you don't know what you don't know. Imagine how you might help your employees grow if you could truly gain their trust, and be admired for your humanity as much as for your authority.
At a large marketing conference earlier this summer, an amazing thing happened. Keynote speaker and revered marketing expert Seth Godin ended his talk by encouraging the 500 attendees to spend their lunch hour sharing with their tablemates the "one irrational fear" that they were currently facing. So we did. Strangers and comrades, we talked about our work projects, our leadership deficiencies, and our dreams deferred. And in the moment of embracing the fear -- in becoming vulnerable to those who we respect and admire -- we released the fear, made valuable business connections and left -- yes, it's true -- impressions of ourselves that were strong and authentic and anything but "weak."
