When I Learned Influence Was A Quiet Presence
From Performance to Presence: How Quiet Certainty Becomes True Influence
AUTHOR INTRO:
Alyssa Jones is an educational leader who builds partnerships that elevate teaching, connect research to practice, and expand student opportunities. Her work centers on transforming learning by empowering the people at the heart of education.
For a long time, I believed leadership was something you earned by being the loudest voice in the room. I believed influence meant showing up with the right answers, the right data, the right strategy. I believed that if I worked hard enough, someone would eventually look at me and say, “You are ready.”
So I spent years performing readiness.
I collected degrees. I gathered titles. I hit goals and broke revenue records. I learned how to speak like a leader. How to look like one. Every room I entered, I tried to prove something—prove I belonged, prove I deserved a seat at the table, prove that I wasn’t just a hard worker but a strategic thinker capable of real impact.
Then one meeting changed everything.
I walked into an executive room filled with decorated leaders. I was prepared—slide deck polished, outcomes aligned, research tight. I sat down ready to lead with energy and a strong presence.
Before I could begin, the senior leader leaned back, folded his hands, and said quietly:
“We already trust you. Just talk to us.”
Trust me.
Just talk to us.
I froze—not from fear, but from realization. I had arrived armed with proof, unaware that they had already decided I belonged.
And in that stillness, influence did not feel like power.
It felt like peace.
The room went quiet—not tense quiet, not waiting quiet.
The quiet of trust.
I set the slide deck aside and started talking—about students, teachers, long-term vision, and real impact. I spoke from conviction rather than performance. The conversation shifted from presentation to partnership. Questions became collaborative. Ideas became shared.
There was no hard sell.
No force.
No pushing.
I was simply present. Fully present.
For the first time, I understood: influence wasn’t in what I showed.
It was in what I stopped trying to prove.
Influence is not loud.
Influence is not forceful.
Influence is not earned through flawless performance.
Influence is quiet certainty.
Influence is rooted in being known.
Known for listening.
Known for caring.
Known for the quality of your work long before you enter the room.
That day taught me that presence holds a kind of power performance can never create.
Presence listens.
Performance tries to impress.
Presence connects.
Performance tries to convince.
Presence earns trust.
Performance chases approval.
After that day, I stopped trying to take up space. Instead, I practiced something different—steady presence.
I stopped rushing to fill silence.
I stopped speaking to prove what I knew.
I started speaking only when I had something that truly added value.
The surprising result was this:
I became more influential, not less.
People invited me into early conversations.
They asked for my perspective before decisions were made.
They trusted my judgment—without me trying to persuade them to.
When I stopped trying to influence,
I became influential.
Presence did more than performance ever could.
Women often feel pressured to display competence, to prove readiness, to justify our seat at the table. We’ve been taught that influence must be loud, visible, assertive, forceful.
But I learned something else.
Influence is not about volume.
Influence is about weight.
The weight of your integrity.
The weight of your follow-through.
The weight of results that speak for you when you’re not in the room.
If you want the truth, here it is:
Your presence is enough.
Your voice does not need to be louder.
Your impact does not need to be explained.
You do not have to perform leadership.
You can simply be it.
