Confidence Comes After Courage

One of the greatest misconceptions about leadership is that confidence comes first.

We admire leaders who appear certain in their decisions, comfortable in difficult conversations, and steady when the answer is not obvious. From the outside, confidence looks like the thing that allows them to lead.

My experience has been different.

Confidence was rarely the beginning of the story. Courage was.

For more than thirty years, I have walked into meeting rooms where I was one of only a few women, and sometimes the only woman. Early in my career, I noticed it every single time. I would look around the room, take stock of who was there, and quietly wonder whether I had earned my place at the table.

I assumed everyone else felt as confident as they looked. I hesitated before asking questions. I second-guessed ideas I wanted to share. Sometimes I waited for someone else to speak first.

I thought confidence was something experienced leaders possessed. If I worked hard enough, learned enough, and spent enough years doing the work, I assumed I would eventually feel completely sure of myself.

That day never came.

Instead, I learned something far more useful.

I learned how to move before I felt completely ready.

COURAGE BEFORE CONFIDENCE

There were leadership roles that stretched me, difficult conversations I would have preferred to avoid, decisions I had to make without knowing how they would turn out, and rooms I had to enter despite feeling uncomfortable.

None of those experiences began with confidence. They required courage first.

Looking back, the moments that shaped my leadership were rarely the ones when I felt certain. They were the moments when I decided uncertainty was not a reason to stand still.

Every difficult conversation gave me evidence that I was capable of having another one. Every challenge I worked through reminded me that I knew how to figure things out. Even my mistakes gave me evidence. I learned that getting something wrong did not erase everything I knew or mean I did not belong.

Over time, all of that evidence changed the way I saw myself.

What once intimidated me became more familiar. I stopped believing I needed to know everything before I had something worthwhile to contribute. I became more comfortable asking questions, admitting when I did not know something, and trusting the experience I had earned.

Confidence did eventually come.

But courage had to go first.

COURAGE LOOKS DIFFERENT NOW

After more than three decades of leadership, my understanding of courage has changed.

Early in my career, courage often meant convincing myself to speak. I needed to raise my hand, ask the question, share the idea, challenge the decision, or say what I was thinking even when I was nervous about how people would respond.

I spent years learning to find my voice.

Now I am learning something different. Having a voice does not mean every moment needs mine.

Sometimes courage means listening longer. Sometimes it means asking another question before deciding you understand the situation. Sometimes it means changing your mind when new information tells you that you were wrong. Sometimes it means trusting someone else to lead. And sometimes it means recognizing that a problem does not belong on your shoulders simply because you know how to carry it.

I spent years learning to find my voice. I am still learning when to use it.

That is where courage and discernment meet for me now.

Experience has taught me to slow down and pay attention. What does this moment need from me? Do I need to speak, listen, ask another question, step forward, or get out of someone else’s way?

Those questions require a different kind of courage than the courage I needed at the beginning of my career.

I think they also require a different kind of confidence.

WHAT CONFIDENCE GAVE ME

Something else changed as my confidence grew.

I stopped spending so much time wondering whether I belonged in the room.

For years, so much of my energy went toward earning the seat, keeping the seat, and proving I deserved the seat. Eventually, experience gave me enough evidence to stop having that argument with myself.

Then I started noticing something else.

Who was missing?

Who had something to contribute but had not been invited yet? Who was sitting quietly because she was having the same conversation with herself that I had for so many years? Who needed an introduction, an opportunity, or someone willing to say her name when she was not in the room?

That became far more interesting to me than proving I belonged.

There is a responsibility that comes with confidence. Once you no longer need all of your energy to prove your own worth, you get to decide what you will do with it.

I want to use mine to create opportunities for other people.

DON’T WAIT TO FEEL READY

If you are waiting until you feel completely confident before accepting the opportunity, sharing the idea, applying for the role, having the conversation, or using your voice, you might be waiting for something that was never supposed to come first.

You do not need certainty before taking the next step.

You need enough courage to take the step and enough humility to learn from whatever happens next.

My confidence did not arrive one morning after I had accumulated enough years, titles, awards, or experience. I built it slowly. I built it by showing up. By getting things right and getting things wrong. By speaking when I was nervous. By asking questions when I did not know. By having conversations I would rather have avoided. By learning when to speak and when to listen.

Confidence came from evidence.

Courage gave me the evidence.

And more than thirty years later, I am still building both.

A QUESTION TO CARRY WITH YOU

Where in your leadership are you waiting for confidence when the moment is asking for courage?

And if experience has already given you confidence, what are you doing with it?

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