The uncomfortable truth about leading for good

The world felt decidedly unfair in my house yesterday. My daughter, an avid reader and a budding writer herself, descended the stairs in tears – true, shoulder-shaking sobs. The cause? A beloved couple in the fictional universe she’s immersed in had been irrevocably torn apart by death. “Why is this world so mean?” she asked through her grief. “Why can’t they just be happy, even for a little while?”

Her anguish, while rooted in a fictional realm, resonated deeply with me, not just as a parent, but as a CEO of a nonprofit. It made me reflect on the narratives we all consume and, more importantly, the narratives we have the power to create – both in storytelling and in life. My daughter, with her meticulous world-building and passion for her characters, pours her heart into her own writing. I found myself telling her, “You’re not alone in feeling this. You have a gift. Use your incredible writing to craft the stories you want to see, stories that offer hope and uplift others. Lead with your words.”

This exchange crystallized a fundamental truth about leadership: it is often an uncomfortable, even painful, undertaking. To lead is to step out from the crowd, to make decisions that will inevitably be scrutinized and criticized. It means shouldering a weight of responsibility that can feel immense. There are moments when the path forward is clouded, when the choices are between difficult and more difficult, and the temptation to retreat to the sidelines, to become a passive observer, is strong.

But what is the alternative? To allow the “unfairness” my daughter lamented in her fictional world to prevail unchallenged in our own? To stand by while narratives of despair or inaction take root? I believe those of us who have the capacity to drive change, to influence and inspire, have a profound responsibility to do so, however uncomfortable it may be.

Being a leader isn’t about seeking the spotlight or personal glory; it’s about taking an active role in shaping a better future. It’s about understanding that true progress often emerges from navigating thorny issues and making unpopular choices for the greater good. It means being willing to be the one who says, “There is a different way, a better way,” even when your voice shakes. It’s about leading by example, demonstrating resilience in the face of adversity, and fostering an environment where others feel empowered to contribute their own unique talents.

Not everyone is called to or equipped for formal leadership roles, but we all have the capacity to lead in our own spheres – in our families, our communities, our workplaces. By embracing the discomfort, by choosing to participate rather than merely observe, we don’t just make a difference; we become the architects of more hopeful narratives. And in a world that often feels overwhelming, that power to shape a story of progress and optimism is a responsibility – and a privilege – we must all embrace.

The discomfort of leadership – the vulnerability, the criticism, the sheer weight of it – is undeniable. Yet, within that discomfort lies immense potential. It is in these challenging spaces that hope is forged. It is through active, engaged leadership that we pave the path to meaningful change, much like a writer crafts a story not just of conflict, but ultimately, of resolution and perhaps even a little bit of that elusive happiness my daughter was searching for.