For the past several years, I had my eye on a professional award that I thought would mark an important milestone in my career. When I didn’t receive it, I found myself thinking less about the award itself and more about what we recognize as leadership in the first place.
The world often celebrates a particular kind of leader: charismatic, outspoken, highly visible, always ready with something to say. Especially in industries where relationships and visibility can determine who gets invited into certain rooms, it can feel like moving up requires fitting that mold.
But what if that’s not me?
I am an introvert through and through, and at some point during my leadership journey, I started thinking of myself as a Producer. I may not be the director or the lead actress. You may never see me onstage. But behind the scenes, I’m helping make sure the show goes on.
I’ve spent eight years at MORTAR, and I’ve been fortunate to work somewhere that has made room for my leadership even when it doesn’t look traditional. My quietness hasn’t prevented me from leading teams, managing complex projects, navigating organizational change, or becoming someone people trust. In fact, some of the qualities I once considered flaws have become my greatest leadership tools.
Being quiet taught me to observe. Being analytical taught me to ask questions. Being comfortable behind the scenes taught me that influence and visibility are not the same thing.
And as our workplaces continue to change, our definition of leadership should change with them.
Quiet leadership does not mean passive leadership. It does not mean being afraid to speak, avoiding difficult decisions, or disappearing when people need direction. Sometimes the quiet leader is the person watching, listening, connecting dots, anticipating problems, and calmly figuring out what comes next while everyone else is still reacting.
In an industry where relationships and recognition can feel closely tied to advancement, it’s easy to start molding yourself into what you think a leader is supposed to look like to achieve your goals. I’ll always aspire to be challenged, win awards, and to be included in the room “where it happens”. But there is a certain calm that comes with getting clear about what you actually want.
Maybe my legacy won’t be a resume filled with awards. Maybe it will be the person who sat in my office asking for advice. The teammate whose confidence I helped build. The person I managed who, 20 years from now, treats someone with more humanity because of something they experienced while working with me.
If they remember me when deciding what kind of leader they want to be, then I was seen where it mattered.
Shannon Hooten
Chief of Staff
