The Hidden Cost of Silence in Leadership
Have you ever sat in a meeting and felt the silence thicken to the point where you could practically spread it on toast? Everyone nodding politely. Everyone pretending. Everyone absolutely unwilling to say the thing that actually matters.
Here’s the truth no one wants to admit.
Silence looks like compliance, but it is fear wearing a sensible blazer.
And leadership, real leadership, is not about being the loudest voice in the room. It is about making the room somewhere people can actually use their voices.
I have watched silence ruin brilliant ideas.
I have watched silence flatten creative teams.
I have watched silence turn talented humans into spectators in their own careers.
And I have been silent too.
For years.
Especially in the workplaces that valued professionalism more than personality.
If you are neurodivergent, the silence is different.
It is not passive.
It is strategic.
It is survival.
You learn the rules. You watch faces. You adjust. You mask. You shrink. You assess the temperature of a room like you are your own personal meteorologist.
Then you go home exhausted and wonder why no one knows the real you.
In leadership, silence is not a personality trait.
It is a signal.
It means someone does not feel safe enough to speak.
It means they have weighed up the risk and decided it is not worth it.
It means someone is holding back something that could make the whole organisation better.
Most leaders do not mean to shut people down.
They just do not realise when they are doing it.
The raised eyebrow. The rushed meeting. The “let’s stick to the agenda.” The subtle sigh. The way everyone looks at the extrovert because they will “say something eventually.”
Here is the twist.
People speak when they trust you with their truth.
Not their performance.
Not their rehearsed answer.
Their truth.
It starts small.
Asking real questions.
Listening longer than feels comfortable.
Not rescuing the moment when someone struggles to find their words.
Leaving space wide enough for someone to step into.
The leaders who get this create cultures where people breathe easier.
Cultures where people stop censoring themselves.
Cultures where silence becomes a choice, not a prison.
I have spent enough time inside the minds of women who stay quiet because they are afraid of being “too much.” Too loud. Too emotional. Too intense. Too direct. Too sensitive. Too honest.
But here is the thing.
Silence has a cost.
And eventually, someone pays it.
What if we created workplaces where ideas did not need armour?
Where voices did not need permission?
Where people did not rehearse their sentences in their heads three times before speaking?
If we can build that, we won’t just have better workplaces.
We will have braver humans.
And that is where real leadership begins.
In your corner,
Monique
