During my initial seven years as a speech-language pathologist, I cultivated a communication style characterized by gentle courtesy. I would often preface my opinions with apologies and prioritize the comfort of others. This approach felt crucial, given the emotionally sensitive nature of discussions with clients and their families. A significant challenge in this role involved conveying difficult truths about a child's struggles without causing undue distress to their parents.
My responsibilities included annual meetings with parents to discuss their child's progress and support services. As a parent of children with disabilities myself, I understood the apprehension these meetings could evoke. Reactions varied, from parents eager for collaboration to those immediately defensive or even hostile. My aim was always to foster an environment of safety where parents could process information and emotions, leading to a productive partnership. I presented challenging information in a manner traditionally deemed agreeable for women, emphasizing friendliness and employing hesitant phrases like “I might be mistaken, but…”. Over time, I realized this communication pattern extended to my interactions with colleagues and supervisors beyond these specific meetings.
A turning point occurred when my Hashimoto's disease became symptomatic, causing brain fog, profound exhaustion, and other subtle discomforts. The first instance I voiced an unpopular opinion directly was unintentional. It happened during a lengthy and intense Friday afternoon meeting where a parent proposed internet-sourced ideas that I knew would not benefit their child. Weeks of feeling unwell had stripped away my usual inclination towards excessive politeness. I communicated the truth plainly and directly. To my surprise, the parent expressed relief, finding that my observations aligned with their experiences at home.
This experience led me to recognize that my perceived politeness often served as a mechanism to avoid uncomfortable emotions in others. While I believed I was creating a sense of security, I overlooked that these accommodating behaviors actually erected barriers, impeding effective collaboration. The exact moment I began to internalize the notion that being well-liked would enhance my professional standing, or that self-censorship, superficial pleasantries, and euphemisms were the path to appearing more agreeable, remains unclear. However, I am not alone in this. Research indicates that women face immense societal pressure from a young age to be likable, significantly affecting their self-esteem. A 2026 review further revealed that women who deviate from expectations of likability often face negative repercussions, such as lower performance review scores, despite their competence. A subtle fear of these consequences likely contributed to my people-pleasing habits. Nevertheless, as I dismantle these behaviors, it has become evident that the cost of diminishing my true self far outweighs any perceived benefits.
There is a distinct difference between communicating with capability and communicating to satisfy. Over the past year, I have dedicated myself to navigating sensitive situations, proving that it is possible to be both compassionate and forthright. I continue to emphasize strengths over weaknesses in professional meetings and daily interactions. When confronted with the need to deliver unwelcome news or an opinion that might be unpopular, I am learning to adjust my approach. Instead of beginning a sentence with a disclaimer such as, “I’m not entirely sure if I’m correct about this, but…,” I now opt for phrases like, “I have something important to share. Are you prepared to discuss it?” Subsequently, I present the facts as clearly as possible. I am overcoming my apprehension about appearing too direct or assertive when conveying analytical or straightforward information.
The response isn't always immediate relief or acceptance. Occasionally, parents or colleagues may still react with slight irritation when I express something simply and directly, but this no longer troubles me. As long as mutual honesty and a genuine effort to comprehend one another prevail, challenging moments can motivate us to strive harder for solutions, fostering shared learning and progress.