Presence is not in the perfection of performance
I am here. Not where I ought to be, but where I am.
The art of expression in dance — ‘abhinaya’ means ‘to lead towards’ — to guide an audience to feel what you feel. But the most unforgettable abhinaya isn’t about masks or perfect gestures. It’s when the performer drops the veil and allows their true self to be seen.
We do this every day. We perform versions of ourselves — at work, in leadership, even in relationships. We curate what’s visible and what’s not. But the moments that stay with people, the ones they replay and trust — are the moments where that performance falls away, and authenticity shows up instead.
In dance, those moments feel almost electric: strength without tension, clarity without pretense, a presence so true it draws the audience in without force. That is the paradox of vulnerability — the courage to be fully seen is what gives you real control. The same is true off the stage.
I didn’t always know this. I grew up learning resilience, independence, and strength — the kind that teaches you to change a tyre before you learn to drive, to lead teams twice your age without showing doubt, to command respect without ever showing doubt. Vulnerability, in those worlds, felt unsafe. Weak. Something to be hidden.
In an earlier reflection, I spoke about the craft of creativity as knowing our patterns and learning to break them just enough and at the right time. Seeing vulnerability as weakness has been one of my hardest patterns to break.
Over time, I’ve understood, true presence isn’t in the perfection of performance. When your inner dialogue meets your outer expression, you gain a strength that feels effortless — the kind that captivates, rather than controls.
For women in leadership, this reckoning is even harder. The expectations are doubled: be strong but not cold, warm but not weak, graceful but never messy. We learn to armor up. And yet, it’s the very act of lowering that armor — on our terms — that creates trust, connection and inspiration.
Leadership, at its core, is abhinaya. Not performing a version of yourself, but leading from who you truly are.
This is the craft. Knowing this truth is one thing, living it is a continuous practice. To notice when the mask slips back on. To choose, again and again, to break the pattern.
The work isn’t about arriving — it’s about returning. Choosing again and again to lead from who you are, not who you’re expected to be.
— To be available to be seen trying!
