Authenticity is a critical leadership trait. Research shows that it facilitates more trusting relationships and a more positive working environment. Often, though, in my executive coaching practice, I hear senior leaders use ‘authenticity’ as a covert excuse to resist development.
When clients say, “That doesn’t feel authentic,” it’s often a signal they’re avoiding growth. They’re fearfully or righteously attached to a static version of their leadership. This is a major liability. As leaders elevate in seniority, they must adapt their approach. They need to experiment with different ways of thinking, communicating, and engaging to navigate increased scope and complexity.
Take my client Meg, a brilliant Head of Design. Meg thrives on collaborating to determine feasible next steps on a project. And yet, colleagues say, “She’s so talented, I want her to be more visible.” “She’s got amazing ideas; she should be bolder with them.” Co-workers don’t want her to lead from behind and provide measured solutions. Meg’s convinced, however, that these changes would feel inauthentic and resists change.
Here are three warning signs that leaders, like Meg, are using authenticity to limit their growth.
Using extreme labels to reject feedback
Often, when leaders get so attached to their “authentic style,” they default to off-putting words when they describe the change that people ask them to make. The direct leader sees the call to operate diplomatically as passive-aggressive. The earnest leader sees encouragement to “strategically influence” as an ask to manipulate. The empathetic leader sees feedback around leading with more logic and data as heartless. Because these traits are undesirable, leaders feel justified in remaining stagnant. They are blind to the reality that diplomacy signals leadership maturity, logic builds clarity, and influencing facilitates progress.
Instead of relying on the harshest descriptors of a change being asked of them, leaders are better served by choosing words that invite growth.
Take Meg. Colleagues asked her to be more visible and bold. But she insisted to me, “Steamrolling people with brazen ideas isn’t how I want to lead.” This interpretation made Meg defend her “authentic” identity. Together we explored how she could be visible without steamrolling and bold but not brazen. Meg saw she could unabashedly highlight the successes of her team to bolster design’s cross-functional credibility and amplify her keen imagination by repeatedly asking herself, “How might it be bigger?” before she landed on ideas.
Saying I’m not the kind of person who . . .
Research on adult development shows that leaders grow in effectiveness as they expand the range of identities and behaviors they can access. Psychologist Robert Kegan and educators Lisa Lahey describe how developmental plateaus form when people too rigidly define who they are and treat their identity as fixed. A tell-tale indicator of a developmental plateau is the seemingly harmless but insidious statements: “I’m the kind of person who . . .” and “I’m not the kind of person who.” This keeps people firmly attached to an “authentic” self.
Cleo, a Senior Director of Product, once described her authentic leadership style as urgent with a focus on excellence. Cleo proudly admitted to zero tolerance for slow, sloppy work. She said, “I’m not the kind of person who does or accepts a B+ job.” This orientation, while noble, contributed to team burnout and turnover.
As a senior leader, Cleo needed to renegotiate her standards and rigid sense of self to increase her effectiveness. It didn’t mean lowering expectations across the board; it meant strategically discerning which projects demanded excellence and which could be sidelined or celebrated as “good enough” to retain talent while achieving ambitious goals. To do this, she needed to reimagine the “kind of person she was.”
If you receive feedback to grow but have a knee-jerk reaction of, “I’m not the kind of person who . . .” pause and ask yourself:
- What if I am the kind of person who . . .?
- What leadership capacity would this give me access to?
- What might be possible if I am the kind of person who . . .?
Defining yourself by who you refuse to become
A final signal that leaders are foreclosing on their “authentic” identity is when they reference people—past managers, colleagues, even parents—who they don’t want to become. In our work, Meg shared, “I had this boss out of college who insisted his ideas were the best ones. I swore I’d never be like him.” Her experience with a more egocentric leadership style cemented her commitment to never being anything like that. Being “authentically Meg” meant always leading quietly from behind.
And while a resistance to becoming who we don’t respect is good judgment, it can also be a limitation.
Jeremy, a non-profit executive director, grew up with a father who rarely took responsibility for his actions and defaulted to blame. Because he was put off by these qualities, Jeremy’s “authentic” style became high-capacity and forgiving. He delegated rarely for fear of being seen as someone who “didn’t pull his weight” and let people off the hook when they didn’t deliver.
Seeing change as an opportunity for growth
When leaders resist growth out of fear of becoming a person they dislike, they must ask themselves, “What is the good in the bad?” Meg began to see the power of unapologetically owning and asserting her ideas in key circumstances. Jeremy recognized the importance of holding people accountable with compassion and not taking responsibility for everything. To practice navigating the nuances and paradoxes inherent in senior leadership, both Meg and Jeremy had to consider the good in the people they deemed as “bad” in order to expand their executive competencies.
Authentic leadership at senior levels isn’t about presenting a static self. It’s about regularly examining how one’s “authentic self” needs to grow to meet the demands of the moment by asking: Is my current definition of authenticity sufficient for the role I currently hold? Leaders who confuse authenticity with consistency may feel principled, but they risk falling short of what their role demands while stalling the organization’s ability to scale.
