Vulnerability in Leadership

Controlled Burns Begin with Brittle Stuff

Vulnerability and Leadership

Vulnerability and leadership—these two words are ones I don’t often experience in my day-to-day work as a college professor at a state institution of higher education. In our bureaucracy, we tend to follow the models of leadership from the corporate and political world, where every leader begins with a “brand” and a “vision” for pulling, pushing, or prodding their workforce into the future. What I’ve found, however, is that truly transformative leadership—both in the context of the academy and, well, anywhere else I’ve encountered it—works best when vulnerability and leadership are almost synonymous with each other.

Why? Because I've found that showing up as one’s full self—flaws, fears, and all—is one of the most potent forms of leadership there is.

Last week, I stood in front of two groups of people—one a group of faculty and staff colleagues where I was sharing about my book, and the other a group of friends and supporters of our theatre company—and told my story. The gross parts. The parts where I got pushed around. The parts where I fell victim to bullies. The parts where I failed. As I told my stories, I opted for brutal honesty and total vulnerability. I didn’t mince words. I didn’t apologize for what these folks were about to hear. I just laid it out there. I named my imposter syndrome. I talked about how I have tended to wear masks—personas like “professor,” “artistic director,” and even “leader.” I walked through my personal crises and struggles. My face got red. My throat clenched up. My palms sweated. But I was there. And I was vulnerable.

The Mask of Leadership

It is difficult being a leader, perhaps especially of faculty and artists, two of the most erratic breeds of cats there are to herd. Most folks opt for the mask of strength and invulnerability, of decisiveness and clarity of purpose. We often idolize such leaders as these iron-clad figures, immune to doubt or emotional turmoil. It's as if their charisma is bulletproof, their decisions infallible. Reality check: I've yet to meet a leader who hasn't faced the full spectrum of human emotions. So why do we pretend otherwise?

I partly understand why. The leader pretending to be invulnerable gets the leader something. Among faculty and artists, weak leadership is like blood in the water. That’s not workable in most settings. The mask of strength enables organizations and teams to move more quickly. It’s the most efficient role we can play to project solidity and competence.

But such pretense is, by definition, artificial and inauthentic. And, by and large, it doesn’t work as well as the alternative.

The Power of Vulnerability

There's a term I've coined—”Bonfire Experience.” It's those transformative kinds of moments fueled by story, presence, and relationship. Vulnerability is the spark that lights the bonfire. When a leader is willing to say, "I don't know," or "I messed up," it doesn't snuff out their authority; it fans the flames of connection and mutual growth.

Vulnerability lays bare the ground and the brittle matter that’s ready to burn. In the stories I shared last week, what I offered was a kind of clearing of pretense and the recognition of the detritus and material that I wanted to set fire to. In both cases, I asked the groups I was with to help me set that fire—to metabolize the brittle junk and transform it into helpful, relational moments.

Unveiling the Cracks in the Facade

When we don the mask of invulnerability, we build a wall, effectively sealing off the authentic flow of our selves. That barrier provides the illusion of solidity, yet it prevents us from the formative encounters that can actually enrich our lives and the lives of those around us. By embracing vulnerability, we allow our inner complexities—our fears, our doubts, our hopes—to break through, creating new landscapes in our interpersonal world. Such openness is not a sign of weakness; it's a sign of potential for new relationships and connections.

Think about it—when was the last time you connected deeply with someone who was impenetrable, who was wearing a mask of flawless capability? Chances are you didn’t, because such a facade prevents the raw, authentic interactions from which deep relationships are formed. We can't have "Bonfire Experiences" if we're not willing to toss in our own vulnerabilities as kindling. Authenticity invites others to be authentic, creating a chain reaction much like how one spark can start an entire wildfire. But unlike a wildfire, the goal of this "Bonfire Experience" is not destruction but transformation.

Redefining Strength in Leadership

I'm not advocating for a kind of performative vulnerability, where one shows just enough cracks to seem 'authentic' but not enough to actually reveal anything meaningful. What I'm talking about is a more radical type of vulnerability: the kind that comes from your core, that shakes you a little when you share it. When a leader shows that level of openness, it provides a safe space for others to do the same. The room transforms; it becomes a haven of human connection. People begin to share their own stories, and in that sharing, everyone grows. That's the essence of a "Bonfire Experience."

In a world that praises the lone genius, the rock-solid leader, and the untouchable hero, it’s almost an act of rebellion to be openly vulnerable. Yet, that vulnerability is what allows us to forge deeper connections, to foster communities of true belonging, and to set the stage for transformative experiences. By shedding the mantle of invulnerability, we're not diminishing our power but broadening its scope, channeling it towards purposes that can warm many more than just ourselves. So, the next time you're in a leadership position, ask yourself: What would happen if I allowed myself to be seen, truly seen, cracks and all? Because only when we're brave enough to expose our vulnerabilities can we discover the infinite warmth of our collective fire.