I used to believe I was offering the best kind of support to interns: freedom to manage their time, no micromanagement, and the trust to take ownership. After all, that is what I always valued most in my own journey, so I assumed others would feel empowered the same way.
That assumption was quietly dismantled by one intern, someone with whom I had built a good rapport. I gave him tasks with broad deadlines, encouraged him to find his own path, and trusted he would flourish with that autonomy. But over time, I noticed he did not seem entirely comfortable. Then one afternoon, in a moment of quiet honesty, he looked at me across the table and said something I will never forget: “I actually work better when you give me very specific instructions and deadlines. I feel more secure knowing exactly what is expected”.
At first, I was caught off guard. Although I was aware that people work differently, I had not realized how deeply support preferences could vary, until this intern helped me see it in action. My instinct was to think, “But should not I help him grow by encouraging more autonomy?” I had framed flexibility as empowerment, but for him, clarity was what built confidence. That moment challenged me to pause, listen, and truly lead.
I changed course. I restructured our workflow, gave precise deadlines, broke down tasks into concrete small steps, and checked in more regularly. Something beautiful happened: he became more confident, more expressive and our collaboration flourished.
Not long after, I worked with another intern. This time, someone whose style mirrored my own. I offered him the same autonomy I had previously given the first intern, and it worked perfectly. He embraced flexibility, proposed new ideas, and set his own pace. It reminded me how nuanced leading really is. What empowers one person may overwhelm another.
These experiences stayed with me. Not as management tips, but as reminders that leading starts with seeing the person in front of you, not the version you imagine. It is human nature to assume others process the world the way we do. But leading — real, attentive, relational leadership —requires us to let go of that bias.
The first step, I learned, is letting go of the assumption that others work the way I do. It is a surprisingly persistent bias, even when we believe we are open-minded. But real kindness, especially in leading, starts with this humility: I do not know what is best for you until I listen to you.
Since then, I have made it a practice to ask early on: “How do you prefer to work? What kind of structure or feedback helps you feel supported?” These conversations build trust and signal that I am not here to mold someone into my way of working. I am here to help them thrive in theirs.
Kindness, I have realized, is not just a warm tone or a smile. It is about care and intentionality. Sometimes it means stepping back; other times, stepping in. It is making the effort to understand someone else is perspective, even when it is inconvenient or unfamiliar.
Through both internships, I saw not only my interns grow, but myself. I became more flexible, more curious, and more open. And I came to understand that supporting someone is not about applying a formula. It is about committing to a relationship. Kindness is not soft; it is rigorous. It asks us to show up differently for different people. It asks us to listen with humility.
Being part of Women Emerging reminded me that leading is not about status or titles. It is about action, about how we show up in the everyday. Leading lives in the pauses, in the questions, in the courage to change how we relate to others. And often, it begins with unlearning our assumptions and choosing kindness, over and over again.
