When we started discussing Expression, the third E of the Women Emerging 4Es methodology, I honestly thought it would be a glow-up session. Like, “how to sound more confident“, “how to speak more “leader-like”, ”how to present myself better“
I assumed it would be about polishing myself into the “correct” kind of leader. One that is smoother, sharper, more composed. The kind of person who never stumbles over words, never laughs too loudly, never says something slightly too honest and then replays it in her head for the next three business days. Instead, it challenged something deeper: the belief that I have to edit parts of who I am to be taken seriously.
Challenging the Serious Leader Myth
That hit because I’ve definitely absorbed the idea that leadership is supposed to be serious. Like the default leader setting is a calm voice, neutral face, and a personality that has been gently ironed flat. Fun feels like a risk. Warmth feels like something you have to “balance”. And playfulness? Playfulness is something you keep for outside work, just in case someone mistakes your joy for a lack of competence.
But the expedition flipped that for me. It made me realise I’ve been treating leadership like a performance. Not consciously, but in the way you do when you want to be respected, when you’ve learned that being “too much” can be punished. And suddenly I could see how often I was making small adjustments to fit an invisible script.
Be clear, but don’t ramble.
Be confident, but not intense.
Be friendly, but not “too friendly.
Be visible, but not attention-seeking.
It’s like living with an internal editor running constantly in the background, trimming your edges before anyone else can. I started thinking about where the “serious leader” expectation even comes from. Some of it is old-school leadership culture, where authority is tied to distance, and professionalism is mistaken for emotional neutrality. Some of it is fear. If you’ve ever been dismissed for being “too emotional” or “too loud” or “too excited” seriousness becomes an armour. It becomes the safe option, the one that feels least likely to be misunderstood. But I also realised something else: what we call “neutral” leadership often isn’t neutral at all.
It’s just a style we’ve agreed counts as standard. And plenty of people don’t naturally lead that way. So when we treat that one style as the definition of professionalism, we’re not actually protecting quality, we’re just narrowing what leadership is allowed to look like.
Reframing Playfulness in Leadership
The surprising part was how freeing it felt to question that script. Because here’s what I learned: fun and focus can coexist. Playfulness doesn’t cancel professionalism. In fact, it can fuel it. When I think about the leaders who made me feel safe, brave, and capable, many of them had this lightness. Not the kind of lightness that avoids hard things, but the kind that makes hard things feel possible. They didn’t lead like robots. They led like humans who were steady enough to let people breathe.
Leadership isn’t perfection; it’s integration
And this is where my biggest takeaway landed, in a sentence that keeps repeating in my head: leadership isn’t perfection; it’s integration. Integration, to me, means you don’t have to become a different person to be respected. It means you don’t need to hide your humour to be credible. It means being expressive doesn’t automatically mean being unprofessional. It means you can be serious about your work without being serious as a personality trait.
Reframing Joy in Leading
So what shifts if we reframe leadership to make room for joy? Not the forced kind of joy. Not the “let’s all be fun now!” kind that makes everyone quietly uncomfortable. I mean real joy, the kind that’s grounded in belonging, and ease, and trust.
The kind that shows up as a leader who can laugh and still hold the standard. A team culture where you can celebrate progress without acting like it’s embarrassing. A meeting where warmth doesn’t need a disclaimer. A workplace where people don’t have to shrink to be seen as capable.
Jettisoning Self -Editing
And because Expression isn’t just a nice idea, the most important thing for me is what happens next, what I actually do with this. What I’m taking forward is a commitment to notice when I’m self-editing and ask what I’m protecting. I’m going to practise offering honesty in small, steady ways, especially in rooms where perfection feels safest.
I’m going to allow lightness into how I lead without apologising for it, because lightness is not the same as laziness. It’s often a sign of confidence, not a lack of it. It says, “I can carry responsibility without turning into a hardened version of myself”
Leading in a Way that Lets Others Integrate
Most importantly, I want to lead in a way that gives other people permission to integrate too. Because when a leader shows up as fully human: focused, accountable, expressive, playful when appropriate; it quietly tells everyone else “you don’t have to edit yourself to belong here.” I came into this thinking Expression would teach me how to polish myself into a better leader. Instead, it reminded me I don’t need to polish. I need to integrate.
Author’s Bio
Nadhira is a passionate youth advocate for sustainability, inclusion, and social cohesion. As Founder and Chairperson of the SUSS Sustainability Student Committee, she empowers students to take climate action. She also serves as Co-Chairperson of the Inter-University Environmental Coalition (IUEC) and sits on the Sowing Care Together Young Leaders Council, where she promotes migrant inclusion and racial harmony. Pursuing Human Resource Management with a minor in Sustainable Business, Nadhira brings a people-first, purpose-driven mindset to her work, championing youth-led initiatives that drive real-world environmental and social impact.


One Comment
This was a great read and insightful too. I resonate most with jettisoning self editing. I like the practice you mentioned of pausing and asking “why are you doing this? What are you afraid of?” I will also be jettisoning the good girl syndrome.