The world needs more humane leaders. Be one.

Part I of a 2-part series on why we need more humanity in workplaces. NOW.

Welcome to Thriving Habitats.

Letting go is hard.

Before I was a leader or an employee or a mother or wife, I was a person. 

I remember that vaguely, like a faded photo in an old album, a scent I couldn’t quite place or an old plumeria pressed into the pages of a second edition Leaves of Grass, the dried flower now browned and crisp with age but holding a faint trace of its earlier blushing beauty.

And finally, in the 40th year of life, I find myself re-establishing an intimate and trusting relationship with that person - gently prying open reluctant dreams hiding behind labels, like a shy 4yr old in the drapes of my cotton maxi. 

Often, I come back to this question: Without those labels, who am I? And what becomes possible, for me and around me? 

This question grew on me over a period of years in my 30s, but the realization that I had to make a change struck me hard in early 2022. Suddenly, making space in my life and letting go became crucial - I needed fallowing, a season of hibernation to replenish, before becoming bountiful and productive again.

And endings are harder. 

“72% lung capacity. You can’t carry on like this. Take a break before you’re forced into bedrest or something more serious develops”. My pulmonologist’s stark pronouncement in early 2022, after a bout with COVID and a month of antibiotics, externalized what I’d been refusing to acknowledge for many months now.

I was burnt out.

Utterly exhausted, physically and mentally, in need of a break, I traded in my tapered black slacks, satin work blouse and clipped, professional style for a getaway to Rishikesh, yoga pants and my first tattoo. At the month-long rigorous yoga teacher training I’d signed up for, I finally found myself moving out of my head and rehoming my body after decades.

The pleasurable aches in muscles I’d never known existed, reminded me of how alive and responsive my body was. I sweated more in a day than I had in months during COVID. The fact that it surprised me only highlighted my disconnect. 

Quieting my body for meditation let me observe the high-frequency, tense tangle of prickly thoughts jousting like cacti in my mind, leaving no room to notice life. 

But, beginnings are excruciating. 

Struggling to hold a shirshasana, the headstand, as my world was turned upside down a panicky sense of disorientation kept trying to push me the right side up. 

I resisted the urge to give in to gravity. And took a deep breath. Experiencing the world upside down was the only way to really know what made sense anymore. To explore another way of being and moving in the world. 

And it was time to begin again. 

Gazing into the depths of the Ganges

Permission lies within.

During my break, I met with and spoke to many people from all walks of life across Southeast Asia, India and US - HR professionals, entrepreneurs, social activists, yogis, teachers, artists, people grieving losses, mothers, writers, business leaders, others on sabbatical, immigrants, friends old and new, those contemplating retirement, recruiters, coaches, marketers, techies, philosophers, urban refugees, kids. 

I was shopping for perspective. Time was abundant, and I was curious. And it led to some interesting reflections.

The quest for purpose is universal - we all have that deep call for meaning, community and contribution howling in the wilds of our spirit. 

Often, we shut the windows and stay in the comfort of the known walls, disregarding the call. Only when it gets so insistent that it’s impossible to ignore, or when we are lost in a storm and find ourselves drawn to the howl, do we ask ourselves what it might mean. 

In my conversations, I found that people’s quest for purpose and personal transformation was a recurring theme.

• As was becoming more emotionally aware and expressed.

• And forming deeper, more intimate relationships of trust and healing.

The yogi from Italy was craving the same sense of human connection, of being understood and held in safety as the teacher from Kazakhstan or the artist in Dumbo, Brooklyn.

There was a deeply-held longing for finding one’s tribe, feeling and feeding from belonging. For serving such a community with our hands and our hearts. For creative experimentation and expression, safe from blame and shame. For building something to be proud of, having a positive impact in the world around us, leaving things better than how we found them. 

The learning professional on a work break in Singapore was looking for that same synthesis of her professional expertise with her creative soul as the artist in Goa looking to tell a community story to inspire action or the single-mom coach in Atlanta fusing her photography skills with her business coaching niche. 

And yet, this uniquely human voice and quest seemed all but abandoned within the false boundaries of organizational walls. 

As if, by signing an employment contract, we were signing away our right to be human. 

Some HR peers I spoke with expressed a sense of vicarious pleasure in my decision to take a break and finally live life.

It made me wonder - what had I been doing all these years if not living?

A business leader I was coaching expressed repeated and growing frustration with having to hold back her more human, caring side in her current organization undergoing a merger as there was huge emphasis on rational decision-making.

I kept hearing stories that emphasized a split-life narrative in large organizations - I can either be human or be a leader. I can either be kind or be effective. I can either make connections or get results. I can either be for people or be for the organization.

But, they implied, I can NEVER be myself.

Living split lives in large organizations. Photo by Jackson Simmer on Unsplash

• Leaders self-edited their humanity and drew Teflon shields around their vulnerable human side.

• Individuals identifying with minority groups hid essential, human parts of themselves in order to fit in with an illusory mean.

• Performance processes, meant to aid growth, stripped worth instead and promoted minimization of risk at the cost of dreaming ambitious plans into being. 

Organizations signaled that ‘we want all the stellar, innovative results that come from the spiky parts of you - but we don’t want your spiky parts to show up in our Zoom calls please’. While preparing to deliver a regional session to a 200+ audience on psychological safety, the internal team cautioned me against too many interactive exercises in case the tone turned to one of complaint.

Well - what is a complaint if not a desperate plea to be heard?

“Can you cast an iridescent shadow on the walls that we can all admire? But, cover your scales and tuck your tail in when you walk the corridors please, as no dragons are allowed in here.”

When we look closely, leaders are human too. 

When they returned home or pondered on their longings and aspirations, away from the performative nature of their careers, they too had many overlooked or neglected parts of themselves standing mutely in the shadows and imploring to be integral again. 

I knew of leaders who could give Michelin star chefs a run for their money, who staged ticketed performances on weekends, leaders brewing world-class coffee in pursuit of craftsmanship, incubating businesses in their backyards, or writing nature-inspired poetry while looking out of their 17th storey pent-house study in the urban jungles of upper West side of New York. But these parts of them never showed up in the corporate corridors.

Who dared show leaders how to be human again? 

Where could they get the permission to dip into the rich reservoirs of stories their experiences held, in the shadow battles they’d fought alone away from the career stage, and straddle the emotional arcs of the lessons that turned their frail, vulnerable moments into the pivot points for a better future?

The permission, as I discovered, lies in each of our cores. 

“I asked myself” says the sweet child in this video: on permission. And indeed, more of us need to do exactly that. 

Give ourselves permission - to be human, and to lead from the womb of our humanity.

So, what does this mean for a leader? How do you show up as more human in a large organization, and deliver stellar performance through amplifying your humanity? Here is part 2 for some tips.

Thanks for reading, and share your views below.

Best,
Abby