Many years ago, a board member once told me I wasn’t really a CEO.

We were talking about compensation, and I brought data showing my pay didn’t match that of CEOs at similar companies. The board was pushing back, and I started to get defensive. I think I even raised my voice while advocating for myself. And then one board member blurted out, “Let’s face it, you’re not actually a CEO.”

I still remember how fast the conversation stopped being about pay. As soon as he said those words, all my hard work and growth felt dismissed by one judgment. Instead of trying to understand him, I got shut down. And after the meeting, I was angry and wanted to remove him from the board.

Looking back, what he said no longer stands out…it’s how I responded.

Instead of getting curious, I focused on proving him wrong. My attention shifted from understanding to defending, and after that, I couldn’t hear anything else. It took time to see that his comment hit something deeper than pay. It touched the part of me that still felt I had something to prove.

The Part of Me That Still Needed to Prove Something

I became CEO when I was young. I didn’t have the usual credentials people expect from C-level executives. I was proud of my unique path, but I often wondered if I truly belonged. Most days, I kept that doubt to myself. That day, it showed.

Twenty years later, after giving and receiving A LOT of feedback, I see that defensiveness usually isn’t about the feedback itself but rather the story we tell ourselves about it.

We leaders build our identities around being capable, respected, or successful. We spend years becoming those things, then more years protecting them. Eventually, when someone questions our actions, it can feel like they’re questioning our worth, and that’s when defensiveness starts.

Defensiveness is easy to point out when it’s blatant, but it can also be sneaky. It often hides as an explanation – when we clarify, add context, and defend our choices. Sometimes, these explanations help. Other times, they protect the image we want to keep. It’s hard to grow when we care more about our image than the truth.

Defensiveness Is More Expensive Than We Realize

One of the biggest myths in business is that organizations struggle because they lack talent. That has not been my experience.

I’ve worked with many talented people over the years, and I’ve seen many of them expend energy trying not to look wrong. What seems like a communication problem is often really about self-protection.

And when leaders are self-protecting, it hurts the organization. People stop sharing what they really think. Tough conversations get put off, and feedback gets watered down. Meetings become less honest because everyone is more focused on appearances than the truth. The real talk happens after the meeting, not during it.

And then you don’t have a culture built on truth, which is costly because truth is what helps organizations adapt, innovate, and solve problems. When people spend more energy protecting themselves than on improving, growth slows. Innovation drops because people stop challenging ideas. Trust fades because everyone senses the gap between what’s said and what’s real. Problems take longer to fix because no one wants to bring them up.

The irony is that most people think they’re protecting themselves by being defensive. Really, they’re just protecting their comfort, and comfort rarely leads to growth.

The Moment I Realized I Was the Problem

What bothers me most about that board conversation isn’t that I was questioned or even that my identity was threatened. It’s that I lost my power by reacting the way I did. At the time, I told myself my reaction was fair because his delivery was so poor. And honestly, it was. But leadership isn’t about controlling how others talk to us. It’s about how we respond.

The following week, I circled back to the board member, and we had a much better talk. We patched the relationship and found common ground. But it wasn’t until later that I realized that being defensive didn’t make me look stronger; it made me look weaker, and that the more energy I used to protect myself, the less I had left for growing.

I eventually realized his comment wasn’t the real problem. The problem was that it revealed something I hadn’t dealt with. Part of me still wanted proof that I belonged. Part of me still needed others to validate my role before I could fully own it.

That realization was uncomfortable but also freeing, because once I saw my insecurity behind my defensiveness, I could finally start to address it.

Ownership Changes the Conversation

At StoneAge, we talk a lot about ownership. Not because ownership makes people perfect, but because ownership makes people coachable. Our entire ethos is built around “The Own It Mindset.” To me, this means that my mistakes are mine, but they don’t define who I am. And what a powerful understanding this can be.

If we let mistakes define us, feedback feels like a threat. If we see mistakes as part of learning, feedback simply becomes information. We can look at it, question it, agree or disagree, and still stay open to what it can teach us.

Over the years, I’ve seen that the leaders who grow most aren’t the ones who avoid criticism. They’re the ones who can hear tough feedback without taking it as a judgment of their worth. They know feedback is about their actions, not who they are.

Doing this is so much harder than it sounds. I still catch myself wanting to explain or justify. Leadership has a way of exposing the places where our ego is still running the show, and if we’re paying attention, those moments can become some of our greatest growth opportunities.

The Real Leadership Test

At StoneAge, we often say feedback is oxygen. But feedback only becomes oxygen when people can breathe it in without choking on ego, shame, or defensiveness. Otherwise, feedback feels like a threat, and people spend their energy protecting themselves instead of improving.

That’s why I believe great cultures aren’t built on feedback frameworks alone, like the SHARES Model we use to help us stay in dialogue when giving feedback. Frameworks, communication skills, and structure all matter. But what matters most is being willing to face reality without hiding from it.

I’ve learned that feedback that triggers a strong emotional reaction often points to something worth looking at. Not always – sometimes feedback is wrong or poorly given – but if a comment sticks with you long after, it’s usually worth asking why.

I also now know that leadership isn’t about being immune to tough feedback. It’s about being self-aware enough to know why some feedback hurts so much. That is where ownership begins.

In my experience, improvement often begins when we notice our defensive reactions, understand where they come from, and choose curiosity instead of self-protection. The main lesson: real progress happens when we own our responses, look for self-awareness, and let feedback, even when it’s uncomfortable, help us grow.

Want to go deeper?

Defensiveness is one of the biggest barriers to trust, accountability, and growth. In Talk with Trust, I share the SHARES Model, a practical framework for giving and receiving feedback that strengthens relationships, improves performance, and creates cultures where people can hear the truth without feeling threatened. You can also check out more of this topic on this week’s episode of The Kerry Siggins’ Podcast.

If you’re looking to transform how your leaders and teams communicate, I’d also love to bring the Talk with Trust Leadership Experience to your organization through a keynote, workshop, or leadership development program. You can learn more at www.kerrysiggins.com/speaking.