Don’t Mistake My Watchful Spirit

Let me tell you something about myself: I’m a watcher. Always have been.

Even as a child, I was that quiet one in the room—not silent, but tuned in. I’d notice who spoke and who didn’t. I’d catch the shift in someone’s energy before a word was ever said. I’d read the room before I read the agenda.

I learned young that observation was its own kind of survival. Watch. Listen. Take it in. Figure out who’s safe and who’s not. Who’s pretending, and who’s being real. Where truth might live, and where it’s being buried beneath protocol and performance.

And yet, that grounded presence—my intentional stillness—has been misunderstood more times than I can count. “Fix your face.” “Smile—you look upset.” “You okay?”

I’ve heard them all. And yes, I’m okay. More than okay. I’m present. I’m focused. I’m reading the moment because I care. Because I want to respond, not react. Because I don’t believe leadership is about rushing in—it’s about knowing when to move, when to speak, when to pause.

This newsletter is for those of us who lead without performing. Who don’t show up to impress, but to shift something real. Whose strength isn’t always visible—but is always felt.

This is for you. And it’s a reminder: your quiet is not absence. It’s presence in its most potent form.

The Weight of Being Misread

Let’s sit with the truth that many of us—especially Black women and women of color—have been misread for most of our lives. When we’re still, we’re called cold. When we’re thoughtful, we’re called disengaged. When we don’t plaster on a smile, we’re asked what’s wrong.

But the truth is—we are observing. We are processing. We are deciding how to move in a world that has taught us to anticipate harm before it arrives.

That’s not detachment. That’s discernment. That’s strategy born of necessity.

And the deeper harm comes when our stillness is read as a lack of leadership—when we’re overlooked, talked over, or pushed aside because we’re not performing power the way the system expects.

But here’s the reality: the system was never designed to make space for how we naturally move. So instead of bending ourselves into those expectations, we return to ourselves. We reclaim the brilliance in our quiet. The strength in our subtlety. The clarity in our pause.

The Cost of Performance Culture

Let’s talk about what it costs us to perform. Not the kind of performance that’s aligned with your calling—but the performance rooted in survival.

The performance that tells you to stay upbeat when your spirit is exhausted. The performance that says don’t push too hard—they already think you’re angry. The performance that edits your brilliance so it doesn’t come across as threatening.

It’s not just exhausting—it’s erasing. Because in order to perform that way, you have to abandon part of yourself. You have to mute the wisdom that lives in your pause. You have to distort your tone. You have to smile through disrespect and nod at mediocrity.

And the worst part? The world will reward you for it.

They’ll call you polished. Professional. Team-oriented. Until the day you say no. Until the day your pause becomes a boundary. Until the day you stop explaining yourself.

Then, suddenly, your quiet is a problem. Your calm becomes cold. Your discernment becomes defiance.

But that’s the moment you know you’ve returned to yourself. That’s the moment you stop performing. And that’s where your power becomes real.

Quiet Power Is Embodied Power

When I lead from stillness, I’m not checked out—I’m dialed all the way in. I’m watching the power dynamics. I’m tracking who gets heard and who gets silenced. I’m considering the harm that’s gone unspoken. And I’m deciding—intentionally—how to respond in a way that aligns with my values.

That’s leadership. Not always loud. Not always public. But deeply felt. Deeply grounded. Deeply present.

Quiet power doesn’t clamor for attention. It holds space. It invites truth into the room without demanding a spotlight. It understands that transformation isn’t always a performance—it’s often a slow, steady shift.

As civil rights leader Ella Baker once said:

“Strong people don’t need strong leaders.”

I’d add: strong people recognize quiet strength, too. They know that silence isn’t emptiness—it’s where deep wisdom resides.

This Leadership Isn’t Always Easy—But It’s Sacred

Let’s also acknowledge that choosing this path—choosing to lead with presence, not performance—comes at a cost.

You may be underestimated. You may be dismissed in rooms that only validate charisma. You may be asked to constantly prove your leadership because it doesn’t fit a narrow mold.

But every time you choose alignment over assimilation, you build something solid within yourself. Every time you show up fully, with your grounded presence intact, you make space for others to do the same.

Quiet power doesn’t replicate oppression. It disrupts it.

Quiet power doesn’t hustle for worth. It embodies it.

Quiet power doesn’t demand urgency. It demands truth.

And let’s be real: it takes a deep well of self-trust to lead this way. But it’s worth it. Because this is the kind of leadership that doesn’t break. It bends, breathes, and builds.

Final Thoughts: Let Your Presence Do the Speaking

So, if your stillness has been misread—keep showing up anyway. If your quiet is mistaken for absence—trust that the people who are meant to receive your leadership will feel it.

You don’t have to perform to be powerful. Let your boundaries speak for you, even when they’re quiet.

You don’t have to raise your voice to shift the room. Let your presence speak without needing to shout.

You don’t have to explain your pause. Let your pause be the offering that makes room for truth.

Let others adjust to your way of leading. Let them feel the steadiness of your truth. Let them know: I am not here to perform. I am here to move something.

💬 I’d love to hear how you’re leaning into your quiet power these days. How are you choosing presence over performance?

And if this resonated with you, forward it to someone who leads like this, too. Let them know: your leadership is seen, it’s felt, and it’s enough.

With stillness and strength,

Dr. Kim Davis

Founder & President, Five/6teen Consulting