This past week, I found myself in more difficult conversations than easy ones. Some stretched me. Others unsettled me. A few left me questioning what I thought I knew.
As leaders, we often talk about “getting better at difficult conversations.” We treat them like skills to master, techniques to perfect. But perhaps the point isn’t to make them easier. Perhaps it’s to accept that not every conversation should be easy. Instead, perhaps it's to understand that the ones that challenge us are often the ones we learn the most from.
Orland Bishop’s words struck me. “Who do I need to be so that you can be who you are meant to be?”
At first, this sounds poetic. But when you’re sitting in a tense meeting, facing disagreement, or hearing feedback you don’t like, it becomes a provocation. It forces questions like:
Am I showing up only as “authentic me”? Am I being impatient, reactive, defensive?
Am I willing to stretch into a different way of being, so that you can show up fully too?
Research helps us see why this matters:
Psychologists Thomas Gilovich, Kenneth Savitsky, and Victoria Husted Medvec describe the illusion of transparency. We assume others understand us far better than they actually do.
Robert Zajonc’s work on social facilitation shows that our very presence changes how others think and act, even when we don’t notice.
Neuroscientist Uri Hasson found that deep listening can literally synchronise brain activity between speaker and listener. This builds trust and shared meaning.
Together, these findings suggest something simple yet powerful. How we show up changes the conversation.
For me, that means difficult conversations aren’t problems to solve or skills to perfect. Rather, they’re invitations. Invitations to listen instead of judge. To question instead of tell. To offer instead of dictate. And perhaps most importantly, to practice grace: the act of accepting difference, especially when it makes me uncomfortable.
When I manage to do that not only with those I agree with, but with those I most strongly disagree with, then leadership stops being about me. It becomes about us.
This week’s difficult conversations didn’t get easier. But they did get more meaningful. And maybe that’s the point.
So I leave you to ponder one question this week: Who do you need to be, especially when the conversation is hard, so that others can be who they are meant to be?
