Zoe Goodhardt.
There’s been no shortage of conversation about vulnerability in leadership. In fact, it’s become a buzzword.
The TED Talks are inspiring, the Brené Brown quotes are sticky and there’s a growing expectation that to be a great leader, especially as a woman, you must be willing to ‘lean into’ your vulnerability.
But here’s the thing: I’m not sold.
I think vulnerability is often used in toxic ways. And I think we need to start talking about that, particularly those of us in leadership positions, and especially women. Let me explain.
We’ve created a cultural narrative where vulnerability is framed as the ultimate strength. We’re encouraged to open up, expose our fears, speak our truths and emote – frequently and publicly.
In some spaces, vulnerability has become a shortcut to credibility and a currency for connection. But when everyone is vulnerable all the time, what does it actually mean? Is it always useful? For me, the answer is often no.
There’s an unspoken expectation that women, in particular, are naturally vulnerable. That we lead with emotion. That we should show up with heart first, strategy second. And the moment we don’t – as soon as we prioritise logic, data or tough decision-making – we risk being labelled cold, disconnected or worse, unrelatable.
But here’s what I’ve found to be far more useful, especially in high-stakes environments: critical thinking. It’s the ability to zoom out and to ask, “What’s actually happening here?” instead of “How do I feel about what’s happening?”.
There is strength in discernment, in self-regulation, and in seeing the full picture, even when it’s uncomfortable – especially when it’s uncomfortable.
When we over-index on vulnerability, we risk confusing emotional expression with emotional intelligence. And that’s where things get murky.
Vulnerability, when unanchored, can be performative. It can blur professional boundaries. It can derail a conversation that requires clarity – not catharsis. Worse, it can stall progress. When someone says they’re “feeling vulnerable”, it often becomes a full stop, or a protective forcefield, or a reason not to go deeper, not to challenge, not to grow.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating for a workplace devoid of empathy or emotion. But I am saying that vulnerability should be a tool, not a default mode. It should be used deliberately, not compulsively. And it should never be weaponised to avoid accountability or shield us from the discomfort of hard truths.
The workplace doesn’t need more people curled up in emotional puddles. It needs thoughtful, grounded leaders who can hold duality: empathy and pragmatism, strategy and sensitivity, logic and emotion.
Let’s stop treating vulnerability like the holy grail of leadership. It’s not. It’s one part of a much bigger toolkit – and sometimes, it’s not the tool we need at all.
