I took a risk recently. A professional risk that felt very human.
In a moment of openness, I let my guard down with a colleague and shared something personal. Not deeply private, just something real. Something that revealed I didn’t have it all together. It wasn’t dramatic. It was honest, and I thought that was the point, but it backfired.
The response seemed neutral at first. The conversation moved on. But later, I learned that what I had shared, what I offered in good faith, was used against me. Not in a loud or direct way, but quietly, and in ways that shifted how I was seen. The message was clear enough, that kind of openness was a mistake, and honestly, it hurt.
That experience has stayed with me, especially as someone who works in higher education, and more specifically, in international education, a field built on connection, cultural empathy, and human-centered work. We talk about global citizenship. We advocate for student well-being. We celebrate diversity and inclusion, but inside our own professional cultures, there are still strong undercurrents of perfectionism, status, and control. Vulnerability, it turns out, doesn’t always fit well with institutional culture.
So is it safe to be vulnerable at work?
Brené Brown, who has spent decades studying vulnerability and leadership, says that vulnerability is not weakness. It is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change. She also says that vulnerability without boundaries is not vulnerability, it is oversharing. That distinction is important, because what I shared was thoughtful and intentional. I wasn’t venting. I wasn’t spiraling. I was simply being human in a space where I hoped that would be okay.
I think that’s what stung most, not just the fact that my openness backfired, but the realization that the environment I was in didn’t seem to have room for that kind of honesty.
In higher education, we often preach connection but reward distance. We say we want collaboration but favor competition. We celebrate inclusion but quietly stigmatize anyone who breaks the illusion of control, and for those of us in international education, navigating global challenges, managing constant change, and supporting students and scholars in deeply human ways, the pressure to keep it all together can be even greater.
But the work we do is emotional. It is rooted in care, and that means we can’t afford to pretend we are machines. We are people, we bring our full selves into this work, whether we admit it or not.
So what now? Do I regret being vulnerable?
Honestly, no. I regret the outcome, but not the choice, because even though it cost me something, it reminded me that I want to work in spaces where people are allowed to be real. Where we can say, “That was hard for me,” or “I’m struggling,” or “I need help,” without fearing that our competence will be questioned. That kind of culture doesn’t happen by accident, it happens when someone goes first.
Brené Brown talks about choosing courage over comfort. That resonates now more than ever, I chose courage, and it was uncomfortable, but it was also clarifying. I learned who could hold space for that kind of honesty, and who could not.
If you’ve ever opened up at work and felt the sting of it being used against you, I see you, it’s not easy, and it can make you want to retreat, to armor up. I believe this field, and higher education more broadly, needs more brave spaces, not fewer.
So I’ll keep showing up with my full self, thoughtfully, carefully, but still fully, because if we want more humane workplaces, someone has to go first, and maybe next time, it won’t just be me.