The Most Generous Thing a Leader Can Offer
I used to think strong leadership meant saying the right thing.
The careful thing. The inoffensive thing.
Now I know it’s about saying the clear thing. The thing that might feel risky, but actually makes everything else possible.
In my early days of corporate leadership, I jumped in headfirst. No parachute. Not much experience to cushion the fall. I did what many of us do: I learned on the job. I sat in leadership conferences, read the books, took the notes, and watched how others did it.
And what I discovered quickly is that leadership advice is endless.
So are the opinions about what “good” leadership looks like.
In my effort to do it well, I adopted a habit of always trying to say the right thing.
Which often meant I said… very little of substance.
I wasn’t trying to be vague. Not on purpose. I was trying to be liked.
I feared being labeled too bold, too direct, too much. I didn’t want to be wrong. I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. So I softened my language. I padded every ask. I wrapped clear direction in layers of careful phrasing. And in doing so, I watered down the clarity my team needed most.
One of my direct reports finally challenged me.
“It’s like aiming at a moving target,” she said.
That hit hard.
Because I knew exactly what that felt like.
I’d spent years in environments where the target kept shifting, where expectations weren’t clear, goals weren’t defined, and outcomes weren’t aligned. And I remembered how frustrating, disorienting, and disempowering that was.
I didn’t want that for my team.
But the hard truth was that I had become the very thing I used to resent.
I had mistaken carefulness for compassion.
And in trying not to rock the boat, I left everyone paddling in circles.
It took me longer than I’d like to admit to understand what was really going on.
I was diluting my leadership to protect myself.
Clarity felt risky. It felt like claiming authority. Like drawing a line in the sand. Like saying, “This is where we’re headed,” and exposing myself to criticism if we didn’t get there.
I thought ambiguity was safer. More flexible. More collaborative.
Even more kind.
It wasn’t.
A mentor of mine, a VP I deeply respected, offered a perspective that helped shift my thinking.
“Clarity is the most generous thing you can give as a leader.”
I sat with that for a long time.
And eventually, I saw the truth in it.
Clear communication doesn’t guarantee agreement.
It doesn’t shield you from critique.
But it gives people direction.
It gives them a path to walk.
It builds trust, even when people don’t love every decision.
Clarity invites alignment.
And alignment creates momentum.
So I asked myself the hard question;
Where am I being vague to protect myself?
And then a follow-up question;
What would it look like to get radically clear, without apology, without fluff, without shrinking?
The answers to those questions changed the way I led.
I changed how I communicated goals.
I changed the way I ran meetings.
And I changed how I handled conflict.
I still led with kindness. But I stopped tiptoeing.
I stopped hiding behind politeness and started naming the thing that needed to be said.
I learned that being direct doesn’t mean being harsh.
It means being responsible.
It means respecting the people you lead enough to be honest with them.
And I also learned that clarity doesn’t require more words.
It requires fewer words that matter more.
When we fail to communicate clearly, we don’t just stall projects or miss goals.
We erode trust.
We create hesitation.
We drive our best people away.
People can work through hard decisions.
What they can’t work through is the fog.
Leadership isn’t about always being right.
It’s about being real.
It’s about being clear.
It’s about choosing to speak in a way that sets others up to succeed.
So if you're holding back, over-explaining, or leaving things unsaid to avoid discomfort, I get it. I’ve been there.
But don’t mistake ambiguity for compassion.
Don’t trade clarity for comfort.
Say the clear thing.
It’s the most generous gift you can give.