Three Reasons it’s Hard to be Vulnerable in Meetings

Why is it hard for people to be vulnerable in meetings?

I recall a meeting in which I was briefing an executive management team on findings that came out of an assessment I had just completed on their talent infrastructure. There were ,of course, things the company was doing well, and there were things the company needed to work on in order to fully support their strategic intentions. My hope going into the meeting was to have rich dialogue about the findings and the path forward.

I showed up as my authentic self. I entered the meeting positively and tried to connect with each group member personally. I encouraged questions and comments at the start. I assured them that any areas that needed work were not criticisms—individually or organizationally—but a natural part of an organizations growth path. I paused frequently to check understanding and see if they wanted to dig deeper in any area. I asked how things were resonating. I did all I could think of to foster engagement and the dialogue I was seeking.

A few people raised questions or made comments during the meeting, specifically the most senior folks in the room. But the mid-level managers present… crickets. And these were the people most impacted by the assessment findings.

I was told that after I left the meeting, the group stayed and talked about it for another 20 minutes—all good stuff, I was told.

Granted, I didn’t know who did the talking in the 20-minute post-game, but I did wonder why that rich conversation didn’t, couldn’t, or wouldn’t happen in real-time.

It wasn’t me, how I approached the meeting, or the findings I was presenting. It was the culture that I had entered into. And this is not a one-off occurrence. These non-dialogue “discussions” are happening in meeting rooms, board rooms, family dinners, church councils, and volunteer action committees around the world.

Why is it so hard for humans—who need to connect to other humans to survive—open up to make that connection possible?

It boils down to three things:

Everyone knows that nobody is REALLY listening. There’s a lot of talking and lot of hearing, but the slowing down to give full attention, listen, understand, and process is not happening. And those that take a risk, express what’s in their heart or on their mind, can feel dismissed when they say the thing—putting it out in the ether with carefully selected words and great intentions—and then nothing. No acknowledgement, no feedback, no reaction. The discussion continues as if nothing had been said at all. So we learn: it’s not worth it to speak up because nobody is listening anyway.

Others are quick to dismiss what you’ve said. Maybe not directly or intentionally—although that happens too—but in subtle ways that communicate that your perspective is out of alignment with the leader or the group. Seemingly benign comments such as: “We already tried that” or “I hear you but you’re in the minority” or “let’s move on” chip away at people’s confidence to open up and say the real things that leaders say they want to hear. We might not even be on the receiving end of the dismissive comment, but when we see it happening to others, we make a choice to not allow a situation in which we too, can be dismissed. Because nobody wants to feel that way.

There’s too much advice being given. Whether in a business meeting, a church council, or a women’s circle, sometimes the comment needs to float out there without a solution being offered. Sometimes the issue is not ready for a solution—because it’s not yet fully understood—and sometimes the issue just needs to be expressed and heard by others. When people are quick to jump in with unsolicited advice, it takes away our free will, personal agency, and ignores the fact that we might have some problem-solving ideas of our own. Offering unsolicited advice might appear that one is trying to be helpful, but it’s really a shift in power dynamics, with the advice giver attempting to have some control or influence on the issue. Why would we want top open up and give away our power?

What we need is a new way of coming together in dialogue. We need spaces in which the pace is slowed so there is time to fully listen, process, understand, and acknowledge. We need spaces in which all voices carry equal weight and are granted equal time. We need spaces where it's OK to hear without responding and to feel discomfort without problem solving.

That's what happens in circle council—a structured form of dialogue in which participants sit as equals, speak in turn, and commit to listening without interrupting or advising. There is no crosstalk, no hierarchy, no rush to fix. There is only the rare and radical act of being truly heard.

I think about those mid-level managers who stayed in the room after I left and finally said the things they couldn't say while I was there. They had the words. They had the insights. What they didn't have was a space that felt safe enough to use them. Circle council is that space.

When we create the conditions for honest, unhurried dialogue — in boardrooms, in communities, in families — we don't just improve our meetings. We begin to rebuild the trust that makes real collaboration possible. And that, ultimately, is how we solve the hard things.