Language for the Leadership We Actually Need

I was listening to the latest episode of A Bit of Optimism the other day. I enjoy Simon Sinek’s work. He brings curiosity, optimism, and intentionality to conversations. But every so often, something hits my ear in a way that my whole body reacts before my brain has time to catch up.

This was one of those moments.

Simon and his guest were talking about team culture and casually used the word “tribe” to describe their group. That’s one that always does me in… a word so overused and misapplied in workplaces that it’s lost any sense of respect or context.

But then came another phrase that reliably sends my nervous system into a full-body absolutely not:

“Servant leader.”

Nothing makes me clench faster. Not metaphorically. Not politely.

It’s the same kind of involuntary recoiling I get from a fork scraping across a ceramic plate. A bodily signal that says, “This isn’t it.”

For years, I couldn’t fully articulate why. Plenty of people use the term earnestly. Some of them are people I deeply respect. The intention behind it is generally good. But the term has always carried a tone I can’t quite shake. It’s a kind of earnest sincerity that lands just slightly outside the reality of everyday leadership.

And whenever workplace language drifts toward the spiritual or religious, even gently and even unintentionally, I feel the quiet hum of “this could get complicated.” Not because spirituality is unwelcome in someone’s life, but because the workplace holds many identities and beliefs. Language that carries theological residue doesn’t land neutrally.

Still, the resistance runs deeper than that.

The more I’ve lived inside leadership, the clearer it has become. It’s not the spirit of the concept I resist. It’s the framing.

Where the Term Falls Short

“Servant leadership” aims to name humility, care, and responsibility.

In practice, the phrasing often does something else.

It centers the leader. “I am a servant leader” becomes a kind of identity badge, a way to demonstrate one’s virtue. The attention shifts to the leader’s goodness instead of the team’s experience.

It can romanticize self-sacrifice. There is an undertone of martyrdom, as if exhaustion is a sign of integrity.

It obscures power instead of naming it. Leaders do hold power. Pretending otherwise does not make dynamics more equal. It simply makes them harder to see.

It carries religious undertones, even if unintended. Not inherently wrong, but never neutral.

It can become a label instead of a practice. This is where my DEI work comes in. It reminds me of how calling oneself an ally can unintentionally center the title instead of the behaviour. I have done it too, especially early on. Naming ourselves after the virtue we want to embody can distract from the work itself. “Servant leader” feels similar.

None of this matches the leadership we actually need. Leadership that shows up with clarity, courage, healthy boundaries, and the willingness to evolve systems that are not serving people well.

What We’re Actually Trying to Name

The concept behind “servant leadership” isn’t wrong. We are longing for leaders who treat people with dignity. Who strengthen capacity rather than extract output. Who build trust, not dependency. Who evolve the systems people work within instead of maintaining what feels comfortable.

But the words we choose matter. And this phrase doesn’t quite hold the full truth.

It names the softness without the strength. The care without the clarity. The humility without the accountability.

We need language that integrates both.

Human Leadership

The term that feels truest to me is simple: human leadership. Not because it is trendy, but because it is real.

Human leadership acknowledges that:

• Leadership is relational work.

• It involves power and demands responsibility.

• It is as much about evolving systems as supporting people.

• It is grounded in dignity, agency, and clarity.

• It rejects martyrdom in favour of shared strength.

• It prioritizes environments where people feel welcome, seen, valued, and heard.

• Belonging isn’t bestowed. It is shaped.

Human leadership strengthens people and evolves the systems they move through. That is the work that creates meaningful change.

My Own Turning Point

This understanding didn’t arrive all at once. It built slowly through operations roles, DEI roles, and the many intersections where structure, identity, and humanity collide.

I have seen what happens when leaders lead with clarity and care. How much pressure dissolves when expectations are transparent and people know what is possible and what is safe.

I have watched what happens when accountability disappears. How confusion quietly becomes harm.

And I have seen how systems shape emotion and experience. How belonging isn’t about personality, but about environment. How the language we use signals the conditions we are building.

Why the Language Matters

This isn’t semantics.

Language is one of the tools we use to build culture. The words we choose either reinforce old frameworks or make space for new ones. For me, “servant leadership” reinforces an outdated frame. One rooted in performance, virtue, and quiet hierarchy.

Human leadership feels like the evolution. Less about the leader’s self-image. More about the shared experience.

And if leadership is human work, then maybe the language we use to talk about it should feel human too.

Language as Infrastructure

I don’t expect everyone to stop using “servant leadership.” If it resonates for someone and helps them lead with integrity, that is fine.

But for me, my nervous system has cast its vote.

I am choosing language that aligns with the kind of leadership I believe in. Human leadership. Leadership that strengthens people and evolves systems. Leadership grounded in dignity, clarity, and care.

Leadership that doesn’t make my whole body clench before the sentence is even finished.

Your Turn

What leadership terms do you wish we would retire or reinvent? And if “servant leadership” doesn’t feel right, what would you call the kind of leadership we actually need?