“How do you want people to talk about you behind your back?” my coach asked.
I froze.
The idea of people talking about me behind my back makes me cringe.
But then it hit me — leadership isn’t what you say in meetings.
It’s the story people tell about you when you’re not there.
So I came up with:
Someone who gets shit done.
Someone who has fun.
Someone who’s fair.
But when I looked at those, they felt… obvious. Why would anyone not want to get shit done, have fun, or be fair?
I do realize, all values have shadows — when we lean too hard into them.
Someone who gets shit done can move too fast — skipping alignment, reflection, or rest. You prize activity over impact.
Someone who has fun can come at the cost of depth — joking through discomfort instead of sitting in it.
Someone who is fair can become rigid — forget not everyone starts from the same place. Treating fairness like math, not empathy.
I am willing the take those costs.
Then my coach said something that flipped my brain:
“The opposite side of your values isn’t always the shadow — sometimes it’s just another core value.”
Someone who values thoughtfulness pause longer to reflect. To a “get shit done” person, it feels slow — but they care about getting it right, not just getting it done.
Someone who values professionalism might not play around at work. To someone who thrives on fun, they can seem rigid — but it’s about respect and boundaries.
Someone who values loyalty might give more grace to those who’ve earned their trust. To a fairness-driven person, that can seem biased — but it’s really about honoring history and relationships.
Every shadow hides another kind of value.
They’re just different interpretations of good.
The value I’d still choose
What’s the value I’d still choose, even if the opposite is equally good?
Now I’ve realized there’s no such thing as a “good” or “bad” value. You just can’t compare them.
Every value serves a purpose, depending on what you need and who you are.
For me, it comes down to one word: intentionality.
Even choosing my values is an act of it —balancing who I already am with who I’m becoming.
The shadow of intentionality is real — overthinking, questioning what seems obvious, saying “no” to things that look shiny but don’t align with purpose.
But intentionality also gives me permission to decide when to let go. To be spontaneous, not by default, but by choice.
Everything I do — from leading a team to raising my kid to writing this — is on purpose.
That’s how I want people to talk about me when I’m not in the room — not that I did things on autopilot, but that I chose them.