And Then He Cried: Authentic Leadership Matters

Jacquelyn Davis , Managing Partner, Volution Advisors

He cried. He didn’t expect it.

My coaching client – a 60 year old white man, raised in a culture that equated composure with strength—had spent a career with a stiff upper lip. He’d led teams, navigated crises, managed turnarounds, and carried the quiet, heavy responsibility of leadership alone. He believed, deeply, in handling things with steadiness and calm. He had always shown up prepared, thoughtful, even stoic. That was how he understood leadership: you keep yourself together so others feel secure.

As CEO of a social impact organization, he is now guiding the organization through a reorganization—both for strategic and financial reasons. Revenue had fallen well below projections, and restructuring was necessary to protect mission and impact. For months, he and the executive team worked through every detail—structure, reporting lines, messaging, timing, humane transitions. We spent time on strategy, process, and how to treat people with care, respect, and dignity. He communicated personally with colleagues whose roles would be impacted and invited their input into how the news should be shared.

So when he sat on Zoom with his global leadership team to announce the organizational restructuring and the transition of a senior colleague he cared about, he expected to deliver the message the way he always had: clear, direct, steady.

But as he spoke, his voice wavered. His chest tightened. His eyes filled.

And then—he cried.

It was a human, authentic moment. Unguarded emotion breaking through composure.

When we debriefed, he said, “If I had been 25, I would have been horrified. I would have seen this as failure.” He paused. “But now… well, maybe it wasn’t a disaster. Maybe it was even ok.”

He looked uncertain. “What do you think?”

I told him the truth.

They’ll respect you more. 

Because in that moment, he didn’t just communicate the change—he communicated humanity and empathy. He signaled that this wasn’t just organizational restructuring on a slide deck. It was a real transition affecting real people. He cared. And his team saw that.

This is the heart of adaptive leadership, a concept defined by Ron Heifetz and Marty Linsky: leadership isn’t only about directing strategy or delivering decisions; it’s about helping people navigate change, loss, meaning, and identity. In moments of change, the emotional and relational context is not an obstacle to be managed—it is the work.

For decades, many leaders were taught a narrow story: stay composed at all costs; don’t let people see behind the armor; emotion equals instability. Research now shows the opposite. Leaders who demonstrate emotional intelligence, vulnerability, and humility are perceived as more trustworthy, not less. Teams led by these leaders show higher psychological safety—the strongest predictor of high-performing teams. When people feel safe to be human, they speak more truthfully, collaborate more deeply, and adapt more effectively to change.

What we need now—and what people respond to—is leadership that brings both mind and heart into the room. Strategy without humanity is harsh. Humanity without strategy is directionless. The real strength—and the real credibility—comes from integrating the two.

This leader didn’t “lose control.” He showed up as a whole person. And that takes courage. And it matters.

Real leadership is not about never breaking. It is about knowing what matters—and letting those things matter enough to move you. His team didn’t see fragility in that moment. They saw sincerity and authenticity. They saw a leader who cares. They saw someone strong enough to feel the weight of his decisions.

Authenticity signals confidence. It shows a leader who is comfortable with who they are, and that comfort invites others to bring their real selves forward too. Culture shifts in these moments—subtle, but profound. A team whose leader can express emotion becomes a team where people feel safe to ask for help, to admit uncertainty, to collaborate instead of compete, to learn and grow. 

This leader joined the Zoom planning to deliver news.

Instead, he gave his team something far more powerful: Humanity.

And at this moment—when organizations, teams, and communities are stretched, tired, and navigating ongoing change—we need that humanity more than ever.