I used to think that if I didn’t have an answer, I wasn’t worthy of the seat at the table. It took me three years of burning out in corporate law and one very public failure to realize that my silence was actually the loudest thing in the room.

Let’s get real for a second. How many times have you sat in a boardroom, or a Zoom call with your co-founder, or even just a coffee chat with a potential investor, and felt that familiar knot tighten in your stomach? You’re being asked a question about market trends, or unit economics, or customer retention strategies, and your brain goes blank. Not because you don’t know anything, but because the pressure to be right is so heavy it crushes your ability to think clearly. In those moments, what do you do? Most of us, especially women who have been socialized to be polite and accommodating, we nod. We smile. We say something vague like, 'That’s a great point, let me circle back on that.' Or worse, we bluff. We pull a number out of thin air because the silence feels more dangerous than being wrong. I did this for a decade. As a lawyer, if you admitted you didn’t know something, it felt like professional suicide. But here is the truth that took me years to learn: pretending you have all the answers doesn’t make you a leader. It makes you a liability.

When you perform competence instead of practicing it, you carry a massive weight. You become the bottleneck. Every decision has to go through you because you’re afraid to delegate knowledge you haven’t mastered yourself. You stop listening because you’re too busy preparing your rebuttal or your confident facade. And internally? It’s exhausting. You are constantly scanning for threats, constantly editing yourself, constantly terrified that someone will find out you’re just guessing. That kind of energy isn’t sustainable. It burns you out before your business even gets off the ground. I remember sitting in my kitchen, surrounded by laundry from my twins, staring at a spreadsheet that didn’t balance, realizing I had no idea how to fix it. I had spent months pretending I understood cash flow management because I was too proud to ask for help. The result wasn’t just stress; it was bad decisions. I delayed hiring a finance expert because I thought I could figure it out. That delay cost us thousands of dollars and weeks of peace of mind. That’s not a setback, that’s data. The data says: stop trying to be the smartest person in the room.

So, what does strategic leadership actually look like? It looks like saying, 'I don’t know, but I’ll find out.' It sounds simple, almost too simple, but the impact is profound. When you admit ignorance, you invite collaboration. You signal to your team that it’s safe to bring problems to you, not just solutions. You create a culture where curiosity is valued over ego. Think about the last time a leader told you they were wrong or unsure. Did you lose respect for them? Or did you feel relieved? Did you feel seen? For most of us, admitting vulnerability is terrifying. We worry it will undermine our authority. But in reality, it builds trust. Trust is the currency of high-performing teams. People don’t follow perfection; they follow authenticity. They follow someone who is willing to walk beside them into the unknown. When you own what you don’t know, you give others permission to own their strengths. You start building a team that complements you, rather than one that tries to prop up your fragile image of invincibility. This is how you build a company that lasts. Not by being a solo hero, but by being a honest captain.

If you’re ready to shift this dynamic, here is a practical way to start. Next time you’re in a meeting and hit a wall, pause. Take a breath. Let the silence hang for just two seconds longer than feels comfortable. Then, name it. Say, 'I’m not familiar with that specific metric, can you walk me through how you calculated it?' or 'I need to dig deeper into that regulatory aspect before I can give you a solid answer.' Notice what happens. The world doesn’t end. Your credibility doesn’t shatter. Instead, you open a door for deeper conversation. You show that you care about accuracy over speed. You demonstrate intellectual humility. This isn’t about lowering your standards; it’s about raising your integrity. You are still ambitious. You are still driving toward growth. But you are doing it with your eyes open, acknowledging the gaps in your map. And guess what? Those gaps are where your best opportunities lie. They are where you find mentors, where you discover new partners, where you innovate. If you already knew everything, there would be nothing left to explore. Embrace the not-knowing as part of the journey, not a deviation from it.

I want you to imagine your business six months from now if you keep holding onto the mask. You’re tired. Your team is disengaged because they feel micromanaged. You’re making frantic, untested decisions because you’re scared to ask for guidance. Now, imagine the alternative. Six months from now, you’ve admitted what you don’t know. You’ve hired for those gaps. You’ve built a culture of psychological safety. Your team is moving faster because they aren’t waiting on your approval for every tiny detail. You are free to focus on the vision, the strategy, the big picture things only you can do. This shift isn’t just good for your mental health; it’s good for your bottom line. Sustainable growth comes from clarity, not clutter. Clarity comes from honesty. When you stop wasting energy on performance, you have so much more energy for creation. You become a leader who inspires because you are real. You become the founder people want to work with, invest in, and support. This is the power of dropping the act. It’s not weak to say you don’t know. It’s brave. It’s the bravest thing you can do in a business world that often rewards arrogance over insight.

So, here is your challenge for this week. Pick one area where you’ve been bluffing. Maybe it’s your pricing strategy. Maybe it’s your tech stack. Maybe it’s your understanding of tax implications. Write it down. Then, take one small action to address that ignorance. Send an email to an expert. Ask a trusted peer for advice. Read a chapter of a book you’ve been avoiding. Just one step. Don’t try to fix it all at once. Just acknowledge it. Feel the discomfort of that admission, and then watch how quickly the relief sets in. You will find that the people around you respond with grace, not judgment. They will meet you with resources, with kindness, with solutions. This is the community we are building here. One where we lift each other up by admitting where we need lifting. Breathe. You’ve got this. You are enough, exactly as you are, even when you don’t have all the answers. Especially then. Because it is in those moments of uncertainty that you find your true strength. Not in knowing everything, but in being willing to learn everything. That is the heart of resilient leadership. And you are capable of it.

Thank you for letting me into your day. I’m cheering for you, always. Until next time, keep building, keep learning, and keep being wonderfully, imperfectly human.