What If Leadership Looked More Like Listening Than Leaning In?

A soulful reflection on presence, power, and the revolutionary act of attuned attention

I’ve been sitting with a question lately:
What if leadership looked more like listening… than leaning in?

Not performative listening. Not nodding-while-waiting-your-turn-to-speak.
But real listening. The kind that softens your eyes. That drops you out of your head and into your body. That makes someone else feel not just heard, but deeply received.

That question stirred something in me. So I did what I always do when I sense a deeper truth trying to find me—I wrote. Here’s what poured out:

As a woman, my natural instinct is to listen with my whole body. But I’ve also been conditioned, over decades, to always have a response ready. One that’s polished, intelligent, and innovative. A response that anticipates resistance before it even arrives.

Somewhere in that over-preparedness… I lose the thread.
Wait—what was the original question?

This isn’t just my pattern. I know it’s familiar to many women leaders. We raise our hands only when we’re certain we have the right answer. We don’t interrupt. We wait our turn. And by the time we speak, the moment has often passed.

So again I ask:
What if leadership looked less like leaning in—and more like listening in?

Here’s what I imagine leadership through listening might look like:

• No phones on the table.
• Standing or sitting side by side.
• Soft eye contact that signals “I’m with you.”
• A subtle exhale before speaking—to clear the static.
• Words that arrive slowly… intentionally… with space for others to join in.

And deeper still—listening with all your senses by:
Tuning into body language. Noticing what isn’t being said.
Feeling that tiny internal “ping” that something’s off.
Even catching a scent or sound that brings back comfort or warning.

This isn’t “woo.” This is presence.
This is power that doesn’t demand attention, it magnetizes it.

Compare that to the traditional idea of leaning in.
Let’s be honest—leaning in can feel invasive. Aggressive.
Like someone’s already in your space, assuming leadership without invitation.

True listening, on the other hand, invites.
It creates space.
It beckons others to show up more fully because they feel safe, seen, and valued.

That’s the kind of leadership I want to follow.
The kind I want to model.
The kind I want to co-create.

And yes, there’s nuance here.

Leaning in can be powerful when it’s grounded in listening first.
When it arises from attunement, not performance.
When it’s a natural next step rather than a reflex.

When we first listen in, we know exactly when and how to lean in—
and whether we’re even the right person to do so.

That’s when the magic happens.

That’s when leadership becomes relational, not hierarchical.
Collaborative, not competitive.
Magnetic, not manufactured.

So here’s your gentle challenge.

This week, experiment with leading by listening.

Start with someone who matters to you—a colleague, a child, a client.
Soften your gaze. Open your body. Let go of the need to respond.

Just listen.
Notice what shifts.

You may find that:

• Your body feels more neutral, less attached to outcomes.
• You stop absorbing others’ energy.
• People open up in unexpected, colorful, textured ways.
• Ideas flow with ease—unforced, unpolished, and full of potential.

And maybe, just maybe,
you’ll feel a different kind of leadership stirring in you.

One that’s grounded.
Inviting.
And whole.

This is the new power. This is presence as leadership.

And imagine—just imagine—if this was how boardroom decisions were made.
If this was how conflict was resolved.
If this was the norm in performance reviews, team meetings, and project pitches.

We wouldn’t need to “lean in” to prove we belong.

We’d already feel it—because we’re finally being heard.

Ready to lead from your deepest presence?
I’d love to connect with you or your organization. Whether it’s a keynote, an internal leadership circle, or a women’s ERG event—I’m here to help women leaders like you restore power through presence.

Let’s have a conversation.