How do Congressmen, women, and staffers feel about the idea of blanket pardons for even the violent January 6th rioters—after cowering under their desks on that fateful day? It’s a chilling question I wrestled with last night, one that exposes the uncomfortable truth about leadership: sometimes, the very systems we create can turn against us. America, by re-electing Donald Trump, has created such a situation—a stark reminder of how leadership demands the courage to critique our own actions and decisions, even when doing so forces us to confront our complicity in the chaos. Imagine being afraid to question the very system you helped build. Wouldn’t that fear only deepen the cracks in its foundation?
Fear is a powerful force. It can drive innovation, push boundaries, and inspire greatness. But fear can also paralyze. It can silence voices and discourage critical thinking, especially when it comes to systems we’ve built with our own hands. Imagine this: You create a structure meant to uplift, empower, and transform, but over time, it becomes evident that parts of it are no longer serving its purpose. What do you do? Do you critique it, risking your sense of pride and ownership? Or do you sit silently, hoping no one notices the cracks in the foundation?
This tension—between the need to protect and the need to improve—is where many leaders find themselves. I see it time and time again in organizations, institutions, and movements. Whether it’s a nonprofit designed to foster community engagement or a business built to address inequities, creators often struggle to challenge the systems they once championed. It’s as though we fear our critiques will invalidate our past efforts, erasing the good we’ve done.
But here’s the truth: Critiquing the system you created is not an act of destruction—it’s an act of evolution.
Why We Fear Critique
Critiquing our creations feels personal. It’s hard to separate the system from ourselves because so much of our identity, passion, and energy is tied up in its success. The fear of critique is often rooted in a fear of failure. What if we admit something is broken? Will others judge us? Will they question our competency, our intentions, our leadership?
This fear is particularly potent for Black women leaders, who often feel we must prove ourselves twice over—once to the broader world and again to our own communities. To admit a misstep can feel like betraying the trust of those who believed in us.
But holding back serves no one. Systems are not static; they are living, breathing entities that require constant tending. If we can create them, surely we can reshape them when they no longer serve their purpose.
The Courage to Critique
True leadership demands courage. It requires us to look at the systems we’ve built with clear eyes and ask hard questions:
• Are we still serving the people we intended to serve?
• Have we become gatekeepers instead of liberators?
• Are we willing to disrupt the status quo, even if it makes us uncomfortable?
Critique is not betrayal; it’s an act of love. It’s saying, “I care enough about this system and the people it serves to make it better.” For me, this has meant reevaluating organizations I’ve led, projects I’ve spearheaded, and even personal values I’ve held dear. It’s humbling, yes, but it’s also liberating.
A Call to Action
If you’ve built something—a business, a nonprofit, a movement, or even a tradition—take a moment to reflect. What’s working? What isn’t? Where are the blind spots? And most importantly, do you have the courage to name the issues and commit to change?
Imagine a world where every creator felt empowered to critique their own work, not out of shame, but out of a relentless pursuit of excellence and justice. Imagine the systems we could transform, the communities we could uplift, and the legacies we could leave.
So, I ask again: Imagine being afraid to critique the very system you created. Now, imagine the freedom that comes when you do. I know I will.
