In my last article, I wrote about how technology, especially AI, is transforming the future of work and the skills that will matter most. Of all the qualities I mentioned, the one I keep coming back to—the one I’m still learning to develop—is empathy.

AI can do incredible things: process information at lightning speed, generate insights, and support complex decisions. But what it can’t do is connect on a human level. It doesn’t notice when someone is overwhelmed or discouraged. It can’t feel the strain of a tough week or the pride in a job well done. That still belongs to us. And for those of us in leadership roles, it’s not just a nice-to-have, it’s essential.

I’ll admit, this hasn’t always come easily to me. I’ve spent much of my career focused on driving outcomes and making an impact. I’ve prided myself on being decisive, on pushing through when the stakes were high. But looking back, I can see moments when that mindset, while well-intentioned, caused me to miss the signals others were sending. I’ve learned, sometimes the hard way, that leading well means not only seeing the big picture but also being present for the people within it.

From Command to Care

Leadership today looks different than it did 10, 20, or 30 years ago. Back then, strength was often equated with control, certainty, and command. I certainly followed that model earlier in my career. But the world has changed. People want more than just direction. They want purpose and they want to be seen, valued, and part of something that matters.

This shift, from command to care, has been one of the most meaningful changes I’ve experienced in my own leadership journey. Results still matter (they always will), but so does the culture that produces those results. In today’s environment, it’s not enough to hit the goal, we have to consider how we get there and who we bring along with us.

That doesn’t mean lowering standards or avoiding tough conversations. I’ve learned it means leading with both clarity and compassion. When people feel safe and supported, they’re more likely to contribute fully. When they don’t, they pull back, and no amount of top-down direction can fix that.

Empathy isn’t always flashy. It often shows up in the smallest moments. I’ve had to teach myself to pause before diving into a task or a meeting and ask, “How’s the person doing?” Not just “How’s the project?” A few extra seconds of genuine interest can change the entire tone of an interaction.

And in moments of uncertainty, something we’ve all faced in recent years, those small acts of care matter even more. I remember feeling unsure about how to show up during the pandemic and the period of social unrest that followed. I worried about saying the wrong thing, so sometimes I said nothing. But I’ve come to understand that silence can feel like indifference. Even a brief note saying, “I know this is a difficult time, and I’m thinking of you,” can be a bridge to trust and connection.

I’ve also missed cues, times when someone gave a polite answer but clearly had more on their mind. I’m still working on slowing down and really listening. Sometimes it means paying attention to what’s not being said. Sometimes it means sharing a bit of my own experience first, to create space for others to do the same. And sometimes, it means acknowledging that I didn’t get it right, and trying again.

Leading With Authenticity and Presence

Another lesson I’ve had to learn, often the hard way, is the relationship between empathy and resilience. Early on, I believed resilience meant pushing through, always showing strength, always having the answer. I wore that mindset like armor. But over time, I’ve realized that real resilience includes rest, self-awareness, and yes, vulnerability.

When I’ve run on empty, I’ve been less patient, less present, and less effective as a leader. And when I’ve taken time to reflect and reset, I’ve been better able to show up for my team.

One tool that’s helped me is something called the Mood Elevator. A coach introduced it to me years ago.  The card highlights higher-level moods reflect empowered, open states like gratitude, creativity, and patience that promote clarity and connection, while the lower-level moods reflect constrained, reactive states like frustration, anxiety, and anger that can hinder perspective and performance. It’s a simple visual that helps me pause and check in with how I’m feeling … am I anxious, curious, frustrated, hopeful? That pause has saved me from reacting too quickly and reminded me that how I show up shapes how others feel. I still carry a small Mood Elevator card in my wallet today.

Another practice that made a lasting impact was something we called a “go-around” during leadership offsites. Each person shared what was happening in their life, at work and beyond. It was humbling to hear the full context of someone’s story and it reminded me that titles don’t shield us from life’s challenges. Those conversations built real trust and made space for the harder discussions that inevitably followed.

And for many years, I wrote a weekly note to employees. At first, I saw it as a way to communicate strategy. But over time, I found myself sharing more about the lessons I was learning—some personal, some professional, some in-progress. I wasn’t sure how people would respond. But to my surprise, they did and those exchanges became some of the most meaningful moments in my career. They reminded me that leadership isn’t about perfection, it’s about showing up with sincerity.

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As you reflect on your own leadership, I’d invite you to ask yourself the same questions I’ve been asking myself more often:

• Am I showing up with empathy, even when it’s inconvenient?
• Am I truly listening, or just waiting to respond?
• Am I creating a space where others feel safe to be honest, even when I might not like what they say?

I don’t have it all figured out. I still slip into old habits, especially when I’m under pressure. But what I’ve learned is that empathy is not a destination, it’s a practice. And like any meaningful practice, it requires intention, reflection, and a willingness to grow.

In a world full of complexity and change, people don’t expect leaders to have all the answers. But they do hope we’ll care enough to listen. To see them. To support them in doing their best work.

That’s the kind of leadership I’m still striving toward. And I believe it’s what will matter most in the years ahead.