That’s How You See Me?!
The leadership blind spots I only discovered when I stopped guessing and started asking
For over a decade, I’ve led engineering teams.
Like many who rise through the technical ranks, I wasn’t trained in leadership — I grew into it by doing. By watching. By reflecting. I built instincts that worked well enough to keep advancing. I knew I was calm in a crisis. I took pride in being fair. I believed I created space for others to grow.
But leadership, I’ve come to realize, is more about how people experience us than how we intend to show up.
The moment this became real for me wasn’t in a feedback session or performance review. It came during something deceptively simple: a Johari Window exercise with my team. That was the moment I asked, out loud and without defense, “How do you see me?”
And what I heard back shifted how I see leadership forever.
The Johari Window: A Mirror With Four Quadrants
If you’ve never encountered the Johari Window, here’s the idea:
It’s a framework that maps four kinds of self-knowledge:
What I Know About Me — What Others Know About Me
Open Known to me & others — “I’m calm under pressure”
Blind Spot Others know, I don’t — “You intimidate people…”
Hidden I know, others don’t — “I feel insecure sometimes”
Unknown No one knows (yet) — Unconscious patterns
What makes it powerful is not the quadrant labels — it’s what they reveal when you do the work.
In a retrospective-style session, I asked my team to share words or qualities they associated with me. Then I compared those with how I had previously described myself.
Surprises in the Mirror
Some of what came back was heartening: Words like dependable, empathetic, supportive, fair.
But then came the surprises.
One engineer described me as intimidating — not because I was harsh, but because I seemed “too prepared, too confident.”
Others used words like aloof or distant, even though I believed I was always present and available.
And a few saw me as more organized and strategic than I’d ever given myself credit for.
It was disorienting. But it was also energizing. Because I realized something fundamental:
Self-awareness is not a leadership trait — it’s part of a leadership system.
It’s not a fixed state we reach once and forever. It’s a loop. A way of operating. A muscle we keep flexing.
And I had let mine atrophy more than I thought.
The Cost of Leadership Blind Spots
We often think of feedback in terms of performance gaps. But for leaders, blind spots aren’t just about performance — they’re about culture.
Here’s what I mean:
If I believe I’m accessible, but my team sees me as unapproachable, what happens?
People stop raising small concerns — until they become big ones.
Candid conversations are replaced with second-guessing.
Initiative dies quietly, under the weight of “I’m not sure how they’ll react.”
The misalignment isn’t just reputational — it’s operational.
Culture, speed, creativity, and retention all erode when perception and intent don’t match. And remember: perception is your reality.
Closing the Gap: What I Changed
After that exercise, I didn’t just file away the results. I turned them into action.
1. I made my philosophy visible.
I stopped relying on people to “figure me out over time.”
I wrote down my personal leadership philosophy and shared it with the team. It included:
What I value
How I make decisions
How I prefer to receive feedback
What I expect in return
Suddenly, ambiguity dropped. Misinterpretation faded. People could calibrate faster.
2. I started asking smaller questions more often.
Rather than waiting for formal reviews, I began embedding micro-check-ins in my 1:1s:
“Is there anything I’ve done lately that felt unclear?”
“What’s one thing I could do differently to support you better?”
These gentle, regular pulses helped normalize feedback.
No drama. No surprise. Just data. Just growth.
3. I built reflection into my leadership rhythm.
I created a weekly log — 30 minutes at the end of my week:
What went well this week?
When did I feel misaligned?
How did I show up in moments of pressure?
Over time, I noticed patterns.
I started listening more — and explaining less.
I replaced assumptions with questions.
I traded clarity for connection.
Not overnight. Not perfectly. But intentionally.
And that shift — from knowing to being known, from leading to being experienced — changed everything.
Because here’s the truth most leadership books skip:
Your impact isn’t what you intend. It’s what people feel when you’re not in the room.
That’s what I changed.
The Invitation to Every Leader
You don’t need a formal tool or course to do this.
Start with three simple questions:
How do I think I show up as a leader?
How might that experience differ for others?
What systems (not just moments) can I build to close the gap?
Ask your team.
Ask your peers.
Ask your past self.
But most of all — be open to hearing things you didn’t expect.
It won’t always feel great. But it will make you great-er.
Final Thoughts
We often think leadership is about showing up with answers.
But more often, it’s about asking the right questions — especially the ones that make us flinch.
“That’s how you see me?”
It’s not just a question. It’s a mirror.
And what you do after asking it defines the kind of leader you really are.
Because titles don’t build trust. Feedback does.
And growth doesn’t come from certainty — it comes from curiosity and courage.
If you’re brave enough to listen to how others truly experience you,
you’ll discover the version of yourself you didn’t know you were becoming.
That version? That’s the one worth leading with.