Candid Conversations Newsletter: Image is Everything

When the World Shifted

This was the first long-term project since the world changed.

No travel. No in-person meetings.

Just screens and voices scattered across time zones—but the work had to go on.

I was the subject matter expert.

The scope: assess risk exposure in the event of a disaster or unplanned outage.

In other words—resiliency.

Setting the Tone

We kicked things off internally, silo by silo.

My role was to set the tone for mine.

I outlined a high-level approach to develop our assessment criteria—

something that could evaluate the current state, identify gaps, and map them against industry best practices.

It was structured. Thoughtful. Clear.

“Any questions?” I asked.

The Question Behind the Question

A brief pause.

Then one voice:

“How do you know all this stuff?”

I exhaled—a quiet breath I’ve perfected over years of being doubted.

The kind of breath that carries not just experience, but memory.

Memory not stored in words, but in the body.

You learn to breathe through being questioned.

To find calm in the fire.

To stay grounded, even when the floor shifts beneath you.

Still, I knew better than to take it personally.

Ego clouds clarity.

The Response

So I answered plainly:

“I’ve done this before. For a former client, we faced these challenges.

Through trial and iteration, we built a methodology that worked.

This is an evolution of that.”

A beat of silence.

Then: “Okay… sounds good.”

That moment stayed with me—not because it rattled me,

but because it echoed something a former manager once said:

Perception Problems

“What happened here is that, for some reason—known or unknown to both of us—

you’ve created a perception issue. And perception issues…

they’re easy to come by, but hard to get rid of.”

That line never left me.

It made me more aware of frames, and how you’re being seen through them.

People see through their own filters.

Their own history. Their own fear.

It’s human nature.

We’re as connected as we are uniquely shaped.

That’s the paradox.

Connection doesn’t mean sameness—and that’s a liberating idea, if you let it be.

The Weight We Carry

But here’s the weight of it:

We’re shaped not just by what we’re told, but by what we absorb.

The stories passed down.

The silences that settle in.

The cues—subtle and not-so-subtle—that teach us who’s assumed competent,

and who still has to earn it. Again and again.

You can do the work.

Share the wins. Carry the load.

And still be underestimated.

Misread. Misplaced.

Sometimes, you’re the only one in the room who understands what you’re actually carrying.

And yet. you stay calm.

Ready.

Clear.

Naming the Invisible

Recently, I came across two ideas that helped name what I’d felt but couldn’t always explain:

epigenetics and cultural inheritance.

Epigenetics explains how lived experience—stress, resilience, trauma—can leave a biological imprint,changing how genes are expressed without altering the DNA itself.

It’s memory stored in the body, long after the moment has passed.

Cultural inheritance is the transmission of beliefs, stories, and rules, spoken or not—

handed down through generations.

It shapes how we see the world. And how the world sees us.

It’s the lens we inherit, often before we ever get to adjust the focus ourselves.

The Quiet Storm

Put those two together: body memory and inherited worldview, 

and add in a lack of self-awareness, and you’ve got a cocktail.

 A potent mix formed from the unconscious mismatch of emotional elements,
quietly fermenting beneath the surface.

A swirl of unexamined patterns driving how we show up,

how we’re perceived, and how we respond.

The danger?

You don’t even realize it’s happening.

That’s where perception issues are born—not from intent,

but from what’s gone unexamined for too long.

And sometimes, it all shows up in a single moment—when trust is tested, and bias speaks first.

What Was Missing That Day

What my colleague didn’t do that day was lean into trust.

That the title “Subject Matter Expert” means something.

Not that I was the best, but that I was worth listening to.

There were other things at play.

Insecurity. Maybe race.

But that’s a bigger conversation. Not for today.

Choose Curiosity, Not Control

So let’s settle on curiosity.

How it opens the door to learning,

and makes room for something better.

Self-sovereignty is knowing all of this—

the bias, the weight, the inherited patterns, 

and still showing up.

Still choosing clarity.

Still holding space for truth,

even when the room hasn’t caught up yet.

What would it feel like to release that burden, and simply lead, as yourself?

Not out of ego, but through a conscious awakening—

one rooted in clarity, not performance; presence, not proving