Lenore A. Brinson

“I’m not yelling.”

I have found myself saying those words more times than I can count.

Sometimes, when you are a woman who communicates directly, knows what she wants, and is passionate about the things that matter to her, people can interpret that passion as aggression. A firm tone becomes an “attitude.” Confidence becomes “intimidating.” Direct communication becomes “rude.” And speaking with conviction somehow becomes “yelling.”

But being assertive is not the same as being aggressive.

I have spent years learning how to use my voice. I have learned to advocate for myself, the people I serve, the organizations I represent, and the communities that depend on leaders being willing to speak up. I take that responsibility seriously.

So yes, I am passionate.

When I care about something, you will hear it in my voice. When I believe something needs to change, I will say it. When I see something that is unfair, ineffective, or simply wrong, I am not likely to sit quietly just to make everyone else comfortable.

That does not mean I am angry.

It means I care.

Assertiveness Is Not Aggression

There is an important distinction between assertiveness and aggression.

Aggression seeks to overpower. Assertiveness seeks to communicate clearly.

Aggression dismisses other people. Assertiveness establishes expectations and boundaries.

Aggression says, “Only my voice matters.”

Assertiveness says, “My voice matters too.”

Unfortunately, those distinctions can disappear when people are uncomfortable with the person delivering the message.

Women are often expected to perform a delicate balancing act in leadership: Be confident—but not too confident. Be decisive—but make sure everyone is comfortable with your decision. Speak up—but soften your delivery. Lead—but do not become “bossy.” Be passionate—but not emotional.

At some point, you have to stop shrinking yourself to fit into someone else’s definition of what leadership should sound like.

Passion Has Volume

Passion does not always whisper.

Sometimes passion is animated. Sometimes it comes with facial expressions, hand gestures, a change in tone, or a little extra volume. Sometimes you can hear the urgency in someone’s voice because the issue genuinely matters to them.

That is human.

I have had to recognize that my communication style may not always be comfortable for everyone. I can be direct. I ask questions. I challenge things I do not understand. If something needs to be addressed, I would rather address it than allow resentment or confusion to build.

Does that mean I never need to evaluate my delivery? Absolutely not.

Leadership requires self-awareness.

There have been times when I needed to reconsider my tone, choose different words, listen more carefully, or acknowledge that my delivery could have been better. Being assertive does not give anyone permission to be disrespectful. Passion does not excuse poor communication.

But accountability should not require erasure.

There is a difference between improving how you communicate and constantly editing yourself because someone is uncomfortable with a strong woman who has something to say.

“Why Are You So Angry?”

Sometimes, the most frustrating part is being told what you are feeling instead of being asked.

“You’re angry.”

“You’re being defensive.”

“You’re getting aggressive.”

“You need to calm down.”

Meanwhile, I may simply be explaining my position with conviction.

There is something incredibly dismissive about having the substance of your message ignored because someone has decided to focus entirely on your tone.

Instead of asking, “Why is she so passionate about this?” the conversation becomes, “Why is she so aggressive?”

Those are two very different questions.

One invites understanding.

The other assigns a character flaw.

And once a woman is labeled “difficult” or “aggressive,” everything she says can suddenly be interpreted through that lens.

Leadership Doesn’t Always Sound Soft

Leadership requires difficult conversations.

It requires saying no.

It requires setting boundaries.

It requires holding people accountable.

It requires making decisions that everyone will not agree with.

It requires speaking when silence would be easier.

You cannot lead effectively if your primary objective is making sure no one is ever uncomfortable with you.

I want people to respect me, but I have learned that respect and likability are not always the same thing. Sometimes doing what is necessary means someone will misunderstand your intentions, disagree with your approach, or simply not like your decision.

I can live with that.

What I cannot do is abandon my voice in exchange for acceptance.

Listen to the Message, Not Just the Volume

I have become more intentional about communication as I have grown as a leader. I understand that how something is communicated can be just as important as what is communicated.

But that responsibility goes both ways.

The person speaking should consider their delivery, and the person listening should examine their assumptions.

Before labeling someone aggressive, ask yourself:

Are they actually being disrespectful, or are they simply being direct?

Are they attacking me, or are they challenging an idea?

Are they yelling, or are they passionate?

Am I responding to their behavior—or to my discomfort with their confidence?

Those questions matter.

Because sometimes the woman you describe as “too much” has spent years being told she wasn’t enough.

Sometimes the woman you call intimidating fought hard to become confident.

Sometimes the woman you think is difficult simply stopped saying yes when she wanted to say no.

And sometimes…

“I’m not yelling. I’m passionate.”

I will continue learning. I will continue listening. I will continue holding myself accountable for how I communicate.

But I will not confuse growth with shrinking.

I will not apologize for having a voice.

I will not make myself smaller so that my leadership feels more comfortable to someone else.

And I will not automatically accept the label of “aggressive” simply because I choose to be assertive.

My voice has purpose.

My passion has purpose.

And when something matters to me, you may hear both.

You Belong Here

There was a time when I constantly questioned whether I belonged.

Not because I lacked the work ethic. Not because I wasn't capable. But because I didn't look, sound, or come from what I thought corporate leadership was supposed to be.

I'm a Black woman from Atlanta—Zone 6, to be exact. I grew up surrounded by the culture that shaped me: Sunday mornings in a Southern Baptist church, family cookouts, gold teeth, gold chains, loud laughter, resilience, and a community that knew how to make something out of nothing. That was my normal. It still is.

When I entered professional spaces, I quickly learned there were unwritten rules. Speak a certain way. Dress a certain way. Tone yourself down. Don't let your Southern accent show. Don't let people know you didn't attend an Ivy League school.

For years, I tried to fit into a version of leadership that wasn't mine. I believed success meant leaving pieces of myself at the door. I thought I had to sound different, act differently, and hide the very experiences that had shaped me into the leader I was becoming.

Then something changed.

During a phone call, a Black CEO shared words that I have carried with me ever since:

"You belong here. Don't code-switch. Be your authentic self."

Those words shifted something inside me. They gave me permission to stop performing and start leading as the woman I had always been.

I stopped apologizing for where I came from.

I stopped trying to erase my Southern accent.

I stopped believing that my educational journey somehow made me less qualified than someone else's.

Instead, I leaned into what made me different.

Authenticity became my leadership strategy.

Authenticity Became My Leadership Strategy

Today, I serve as the Executive Director of Florida Epilepsy Services. I have the privilege of leading an organization that impacts the lives of individuals and families living with epilepsy every day. I sit at tables I once believed I'd never be invited to. I speak with legislators, healthcare executives, community leaders, and national partners. And I do it as myself—not a polished version of who I thought people wanted me to be.

I've learned that belonging isn't about receiving permission from others.

It's about giving yourself permission.

Giving Yourself Permission

Too many women—especially Black women and women of color—walk into rooms carrying invisible questions:

• Am I qualified enough?
• Do I sound professional enough?
• Will they take me seriously?

Those questions don't come from a lack of ability. They come from years of messaging that tells us we must earn our seat by becoming someone else.

The truth is, the table needs your perspective because no one else has lived your story.

• Your upbringing is not a weakness.
• Your accent is not a liability.
• Your lived experiences are not something to overcome.
• They are your greatest strengths.

The strongest leaders aren't carbon copies of one another. They lead with courage, empathy, resilience, and authenticity. They understand that diversity isn't simply about inviting different people into the room. It's about creating environments where people don't feel pressured to leave parts of themselves at the door.

Belonging Also Comes With Responsibility

Belonging also comes with responsibility.

Once you realize you belong, you have a responsibility to make sure the next woman doesn't spend years questioning whether she does.

• Mentor her.
• Encourage her.
• Open the door.
• Speak her name in rooms she hasn't entered yet.

Tell her what someone once told you:

"You belong here. Don't code-switch. Be your authentic self."

Those words have the power to change a career, restore confidence, and transform a life.

Yes, You Belong

If you're still asking yourself, Do I belong?

My answer is simple.

Yes.

• Not because of the title you hold.
• Not because of the degree hanging on your wall.
• Not because someone finally validated your worth.
• You belong because your voice matters.
• You belong because your experiences matter.
• You belong because your resilience matters.
• You belong because no one else can bring to the table what you uniquely possess.

The world doesn't need another version of someone else.

It needs the authentic, unapologetic version of you.

Because the moment you stop asking for permission to belong is the moment you begin to lead with purpose, confidence, and the kind of influence that inspires others to do the same.

For years, I wore being “always available” like a badge of honor.

I answered emails late at night. I took calls during dinner. I sacrificed vacations, weekends, and moments that should have belonged to my family, my health, and myself—all in the name of leadership and service.

Like many nonprofit leaders, I convinced myself that if I cared enough, worked hard enough, and gave enough of myself, everything would work out.

It doesn’t.

Somewhere along the way, I realized something uncomfortable: the organization would continue operating, meetings would still happen, and emails would still arrive. The only thing quietly disappearing was me.

We’ve normalized exhaustion.

We celebrate people who never take PTO. We applaud those who answer emails at midnight and call them “dedicated.” We praise leaders who carry impossible workloads while quietly neglecting their own well-being.

That’s not leadership.

That’s survival.

The real goal isn’t balance.

Work-life balance is often presented as if it’s a perfect scale—equal parts work and personal life. I’ve learned that’s unrealistic. Some seasons require more of us than others. The real goal isn’t balance.

It’s boundaries.

Boundaries are not barriers to productivity.

Boundaries are not barriers to productivity; they are the foundation of sustainable leadership.

• They give us permission to disconnect without guilt.
• They remind us that saying “no” to one thing often means saying “yes” to something more important.
• They protect our mental health, our relationships, and our ability to continue serving others without losing ourselves in the process.

Culture isn’t created by policies.

As a leader, I’ve also learned that the boundaries I set become the boundaries my team believes they are allowed to have. If I answer emails at all hours, they feel pressured to do the same. If I never take time off, they wonder whether it is truly acceptable for them to use theirs.

Culture isn’t created by policies.

It’s created by what leaders model.

Rest is part of the work.

Creating boundaries doesn’t make us less committed. It makes us more intentional.

It means being fully present at work when we’re working and fully present in our personal lives when we’re not.

It means understanding that rest isn’t something we earn after burnout. Rest is part of the work.

I have become a better leader since learning to disconnect.

Ironically, I have become a better leader since learning to disconnect.

• I am more focused.
• I make better decisions.
• I listen more carefully.
• I lead with greater patience and empathy because I am no longer operating from a place of constant depletion.

The people we serve deserve our best—not what is left of us.

Protect your peace.

So, if you’re waiting for permission to create healthier boundaries, consider this your reminder:

• Protect your peace.
• Take your PTO.
• Turn off your notifications.
• Spend time with the people you love.
• Reconnect with yourself.

Because your worth has never been measured by how exhausted you are.

The best leaders don’t give every ounce of themselves away.

They lead in a way that ensures they still have something left to give tomorrow.