For Me: On Opinions, Influence, and Leadership

 

The other day, my son came home visibly unsettled. During a conversation at school, a classmate—confident, influential, and a natural leader—dismissed cricket outright. "Cricket is a bullshit game. It’s not even a sport. Who wants to play cricket?"

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted. The classmate’s words didn’t land softly as one boy’s preference—they hit like a verdict. My son, who happens to love cricket, suddenly felt that something he enjoyed was being mocked and invalidated. Not just by one person, but by the silence and subtle agreement of others around him. It stung.

That moment has been sitting with me. And what it revealed is something deeply simple but often overlooked: the power of the words “for me.”

"I don’t like cricket—it’s boring for me."
"Dancing isn’t my thing."
"Academia is not the right space for me."

When we add “for me,” we open the window to plurality. We signal that this is my truth, not the truth. I have a perspective, but I leave space for yours. That we can exist together, even when we don’t see things the same way.

It ιs easy to dismiss this as semantics—but it’s not. It ιs intention. It ιs tone. It’s the choice between connection and confrontation.

Of course, we can’t expect 13-year-olds to think this deeply—although perhaps we should teach them—but what about adults? How often do we state our preferences as if they’re facts? It can be as trivial as “Blonde hair is out of fashion,” rather than “I don’t like blonde hair.” (Yes, I’m exaggerating—but only slightly.) These statements, when made with authority—especially by people we admire or trust—can prompt others to question not only their opinions but also their preferences.

And this is where the leadership layer comes in. Because when leaders—whether in the workplace, a family, or a group of friends—speak in absolutes, they don’t just share a view. They shape the room. They silence alternative thoughts. They dictate direction without even meaning to. And suddenly, the space for discussion, creativity, and contribution is gone.

"This idea is wrong."
versus
"This idea doesn’t work for me, and here’s why."

One shuts the door. The other invites a response.

A real leader—an aware leader—knows that their words carry weight. Many people will follow, even if they have no strong opinion, simply because they trust the speaker. And that’s not a flaw in those people—it’s human nature. We are wired to lean into voices that sound confident. But it does mean that those with natural influence carry a responsibility.

And this applies to parenting, too. If we see leadership tendencies in our children—if we see them commanding attention, influencing peers—it’s on us to help them understand that with power comes impact. That the words they use, even casually, can shape others. And that authentic leadership isn’t just about strength but about space—making space for others, for nuance, for different preferences and voices.

My reaction to my son’s frustration wasn’t to get angry at the boy who dismissed cricket. Instead, I told him: I don’t pity him. I pity the others—the ones who gave up their opinion so quickly to follow his. Because what saddens me is not disagreement, but the absence of independent thought.

So maybe next time, whether we're 13 or 43, before we declare something as fact, we pause and ask: 

Is this true for me—or for everyone? 

And if it’s only for me, can I say it in a way that allows you to tell yours too?

Because in that tiny shift—from absolute to personal—we don't just speak. We lead. And we lead better.

PS: AI was used for language editing.