School is out, summer vacation has officially begun, and my three kids are home ALL. DAY. LONG. I am mothering from the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep (and in the middle of the night if someone has a nightmare or upset tummy.) In between client calls and writing, the kids always seem to be bored or hungry or annoying each other or hot or…well, you get the idea. 🫠
Summer break is always an adjustment, and this change in routine has me thinking about the type of leadership that mothers do every day that never gets celebrated, never gets a LinkedIn post, never gets recognized at all.
Next Monday I head to the International Association for Maternal Action and Scholarship (IAMAS) annual conference in Boston, where I’m presenting on a new idea I’m working on - matricentric leadership, or a style of revolutionary leadership informed by motherhood. (I’ll share the presentation with you all next week!)
But before I dive into that research, I want to talk this week about the everyday moments where mothers around the world are quietly resisting oppressive systems by modeling something different to their kids.
Yesterday I was folding laundry (again! 😩) when my middle kid flopped down next to me and started talking about his feelings. I froze, in the same way you’d freeze when you come upon a skittish wild animal and you don’t want to scare it off - my 12 year old boy was opening up to me? I wasn’t going to make a move.
He was worried about feeling different from his peers, and as I listened to him and gently made space for him to really express himself, I realized: this is leadership. Not the boardroom kind, or the TED talk kind, but the kind where I was literally shaping a human being’s understanding of his own worth while sorting socks.
And now that I’m sitting down to reflect on that moment, I’m struck by something. If this had happened in a corporate setting, if I’d created space for someone to be vulnerable and helped them feel seen, it would be called executive coaching. But because it happened while folding laundry, in my living room, with my son, we call it just mothering.
Think about it: I listened without judgment, created psychological safety, asked open-ended questions, and helped someone process their emotions. In the business world, that’s a $200-an-hour skill set.
And just like any executive, I didn’t develop these skills overnight. From the first positive pregnancy test years ago, I’ve read dozens of parenting books, joined communities of like-minded mothers for support and learning, paid for online courses on gentle discipline and emotional regulation. I’ve invested time, energy, and money into developing my leadership as a mother, the same way any CEO invests in their professional development.
But we’ve been conditioned to think that when mothers do this work, it’s instinctual. Natural. Something that doesn’t require intention, skill, or recognition.
Here’s what I know to be true about the leadership that mothers do every single day:
When you listen to your teenager without trying to fix them immediately - that's emotional leadership.
When you choose to rest instead of pushing through because you're modeling something different for your kids - that's revolutionary leadership.
When you have hard conversations about race or gender or justice at your dinner table - that's political leadership.
When you ask for help instead of pretending you have it all together - that's vulnerable leadership.
When you set a boundary with an extended family member to keep your kids safe - that's protective leadership.
When you choose the diverse book, support the local business, vote with your values even when it's inconvenient - that's consistent leadership.
When you apologize to your kids for losing your shit - that’s reparative leadership
The patriarchy wants us to believe that leadership looks like dominance. And in some families that’s what it does look like: “Because I said so,” or “I’ll give you something to cry about,” or “As long as you live under my roof you’ll obey my rules.”
But every time a mother reads a book about gentle parenting, works on stopping generational trauma, or goes to therapy to heal her inner child, she is developing revolutionary leadership skills. And even though we don’t see it, this kind of leadership is profoundly changing the future.
So this summer, as our kids are home and we’re navigating the beautiful chaos of it all, I want you to remember: you’re not just getting by. You’re leading.
I want you to think about how you showed up as a mother or parent last week. What moments of leadership did you miss? What choices did you make that quietly pushed back against systems that don't serve us? I guarantee you led in ways you didn’t even recognize.