Latest / Women Who Lead: Leadership, Career & Influence / The Power of Saying 'I Don't Know' to Lead Better | Women Who Lead
Transcript
- There is a specific kind of terror that lives in the space between your ears when someone asks you a question you can’t answer, and for most women in leadership, the instinct is to lie through their teeth just to survive the silence. But what if I told you that admitting you don’t know is actually the most powerful strategic move you can make all week? Let’s get real for a second. We have spent decades, maybe even our entire professional lives, curating an image of infallibility. You walk into meetings with your notebook open, your pen ready, your expression calm and collected. You nod at the right times. You offer solutions before the problem is fully defined. And underneath it all, there is this quiet, humming anxiety that whispers, "If they find out I’m making this up as I go, I’m done." I see it in my coaching sessions every single day. Women who are brilliant, capable, and deeply intelligent, yet they feel like frauds because they cannot predict the future or solve every crisis on demand. So they perform competence. They memorize talking points. They deflect. They say things like, "Let me circle back on that," not because they need more time, but because they are buying seconds to figure out a lie that sounds like truth. It is exhausting. It is unsustainable. And honestly, it is lonely. Because when you present yourself as having all the answers, you invite people to expect miracles, not to offer help. What’s the cost of that silence? When you pretend to know something you don’t, you aren’t protecting your reputation; you are eroding trust. Think about the last time someone in authority gave you advice based on confidence rather than clarity. Did you follow it blindly? Or did you feel a nagging sense that something was off? Now flip it. Think about a leader you truly respect. Is it the one who never misses a beat and has a plan for everything? Or is it the one who pauses, looks you in the eye, and says, "I haven’t thought about that angle yet, but here is how I’m going to figure it out by tomorrow"? The latter builds loyalty. The former builds distance. When we hide our uncertainty, we create a hierarchy where we are above everyone else, untouchable and isolated. But when we admit we don’t know, we create a bridge. We invite collaboration. We signal that this is a team effort, not a solo performance. That shift changes the dynamic from defense to offense. It turns a potential confrontation into a conversation. I used to think vulnerability was soft. I came up in Fortune 500 boardrooms where weakness was treated like a contagion. If you showed hesitation, you were passed over for promotion. If you asked for clarification, you were seen as incompetent. So I built walls. I built armor. I learned to speak in buzzwords that meant nothing but sounded authoritative. And I climbed the ladder until I reached a corner office that felt like a glass cage. I had the title, the salary, the prestige, but I was terrified. Every meeting felt like a trap waiting to spring. Then I realized something crucial: the people who seemed the most confident often weren’t smarter than me. They were just better at hiding their confusion. And once I saw that, I stopped trying to compete with them on their terms. I started using my humanity as a strategic asset. Admitting I didn’t know something wasn’t a confession of failure; it was an invitation for my team to step up. It allowed me to leverage their expertise. It made us stronger together than I could ever be alone pretending to be perfect. So how do we actually do this? How do we shift from panic to presence when the pressure cooker gets hot? It starts with reframing what "not knowing" means. It does not mean incompetence. It means curiosity. It means you are engaged enough with the complexity of the situation to recognize its nuances. When someone asks you a tough question, try pausing for three full seconds before you respond. Just breathe. Let the silence sit. Most of us rush to fill silence because we think it signals disinterest or weakness. But in leadership, silence signals thoughtfulness. It signals that you are weighing options. It gives you time to choose honesty over habit. Instead of bluffing, try saying, "That’s a great question. I want to give you a thoughtful answer, so let me take a closer look at the data and get back to you by end of day." See the difference? One is a deflection. The other is a commitment to accuracy. You are trading short-term comfort for long-term credibility. And guess what? People respect the person who delivers the right answer later more than the person who delivers the wrong answer now. When you model this behavior, something magical happens in your organization. You give permission for everyone else to stop performing too. Your direct reports stop feeling like they need to have all the answers. Your peers stop feeling the need to one-up each other. You create a culture where problems are surfaced early because no one is afraid of looking foolish. This is how innovation happens. Innovation doesn’t come from people who think they already know everything; it comes from people who are brave enough to ask, "What if we’re wrong?" or "Have we considered this alternative?" By owning your blind spots, you expand the vision of the entire team. You become a leader who learns, rather than a leader who knows. And in a world that is changing faster than ever, the ability to learn is infinitely more valuable than the ability to know. You don’t have to do it all at once. Start small. Pick one low-stakes situation this week where you can admit uncertainty. Notice how it feels. Notice how the room responds. You might be surprised by how much lighter you feel when you drop the weight of pretending. I remember a project years ago where we were launching a new product line. The timeline was aggressive, the budget was tight, and the stakeholders were watching closely. During a critical review, the CEO asked me about the supply chain risks for Q3. My stomach dropped. I hadn’t dug into the vendor contracts deeply enough. My old instinct was to nod, smile, and promise to handle it. But I was tired of being tired. So I looked him in the eye and said, "Honestly, I don’t have the full picture on those vendor constraints yet. I need to verify the lead times with the procurement team before I can give you a reliable forecast." The room went quiet. I waited for the judgment. Instead, the CEO nodded and said, "Good. Don’t guess. Go verify. We need certainty, not hope." He thanked me for being precise. That moment changed my career. It taught me that leaders don’t reward perfection; they reward integrity. When you protect your team from ambiguity by providing clear, honest status updates—even if that status is 'unknown'—you build a foundation of trust that no amount of polished presentation can replicate. That is sustainable success. That is leadership that lasts. So here is your challenge for this week. Catch yourself when you feel the urge to bluff. Notice the physical sensation in your chest, the tightening in your throat. Acknowledge it without judging it. Then choose a different path. Choose the hard, honest, vulnerable path. Say, "I don’t know." Say, "I need to check." Say, "Help me understand." Watch how the world doesn’t end. Watch how people lean in instead of leaning away. You are not losing power by admitting your limits; you are reclaiming your authenticity. And authenticity is the currency of modern leadership. It cuts through the noise. It connects with people on a human level. It allows you to lead with your whole self, not just the polished version you think they want to see. Keep showing up. Keep learning. Keep being real. That is where the magic lives. That is where you thrive. Not in the illusion of control, but in the reality of connection. Thank you for listening, for showing up, and for doing the hard work of leading with your heart and your head. Until next time, keep speaking your truth. I’ll see you soon.