Taking Up Space Is Not the Same as Taking Over
The deeper question is this: Where am I withholding something that matters?
As my birthday rounds the corner, I find myself thinking about what it means to take up space. I do not mean taking up space in a loud or demanding way, or in a way that crowds other people out. I mean being present enough to fully inhabit the life, work, relationships, and leadership that are mine to step into.
That thought came to me recently at the pool. Swimming is one of the regular ways I reset, move, think, and come back to myself. I will be swimming on my birthday too, which feels fitting. There is something about being in the water that helps me notice things differently.
In the pool, taking up space is a literal act. You choose a lane, stretch your arms, kick, and breathe. You move through the water, and whether you mean to or not, you create movement around you. Sometimes it’s a big splash. Sometimes it’s a small ripple. Sometimes it is barely noticeable to anyone else, although you still feel it.
That has me thinking about what it means to take up space in leadership, in meetings, in conversations, and in the systems we’re part of. Taking up space is not about dominating. It is not about performing. It is not about making noise for the sake of being heard. It is about being present enough that your voice, your perspective, and your presence are actually in the room.
Taking up space can feel complicated.
For many people, it is not as simple as deciding to speak more, be more visible, or assert themselves with greater confidence. There are histories attached to visibility. Some people learned early that being seen came with a cost. Maybe they were interrupted, dismissed, criticized, or told in subtle and not-so-subtle ways to be smaller.
Some learned to read the room so carefully that they stopped fully entering it. Others became very good at being competent, helpful, prepared, and agreeable, while still holding back the part of themselves that might disrupt the pattern. That kind of holding back can look professional from the outside. It can look like restraint. It can look like humility. It can look like being easy to work with. Sometimes it is those things, and sometimes it is also self-protection.
The question is not whether we should always speak more, take up more room, or make bigger waves. That is not leadership either. The deeper question is this: Where am I withholding something that matters?
In leadership, voice is not only about speaking. Voice is about contribution. Voice can be the question you ask that shifts the conversation. It can be the concern you name before it becomes a bigger issue. It can be the idea you offer before it is fully polished. It can be the boundary you set before resentment builds. It can also be the encouragement you give when someone else is unsure if they belong.
When we withhold our voice, there is a cost.
There may be a cost to our own confidence, because silence can start to feel like evidence that we have less to offer. There may be a cost to the team, because the room loses access to information, perspective, creativity, or wisdom that could have helped. There may be a cost to the system, because patterns remain unchanged when the people who can see them do not feel safe enough, ready enough, or authorized enough to name them.
That is one reason presence matters so much. Presence is not only how we carry ourselves. It is how fully we allow ourselves to participate.
I love the image of waves because they do not all have to be dramatic to matter. Some waves are bold. Some are playful. Some are steady. Some simply let others know we are there.
Leadership presence does not always mean making the biggest splash in the room. Sometimes it means making a small, clear movement that changes the energy of the conversation. Sometimes it is as simple as saying, “I see this differently,” asking, “Can we pause here?” or naming what others may be quietly sensing: “I think there is something we are not naming.” These are not grand gestures. They are moments of presence.
Taking up space requires courage because visibility can feel vulnerable. It can feel safer to stay just beneath the surface. It can feel safer to wait until the idea is perfect, let someone else go first, soften the comment until the meaning disappears, or tell ourselves we are being thoughtful when we may actually be trying not to create a ripple.
There are times when being quiet is wise. There are times when listening is the most powerful contribution we can make. There are also times when silence becomes a habit that keeps us smaller than the moment requires.
The work is not about becoming louder for the sake of being louder. The work is about becoming more fully present.
It is about trusting that your perspective does not have to be perfect to be valuable. It is about believing that your presence does not have to overpower others to matter. It is about recognizing that taking up space is not the same as taking over.
The next time you are in a meeting, a conversation, or a moment where you feel yourself holding back, it may be worth pausing to ask: Am I choosing silence because it serves the moment, or because it protects me from being seen? That question alone can create a shift.
Sometimes leadership begins with a big splash. Sometimes it begins with a small wave. Sometimes it begins with the simple, brave act of claiming your lane.
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