A few years back, I was designing a leadership program with a group of other consultants. We were discussing potential facilitators for the team. Maya’s name was on the list. “She’s great,” said my colleague, Raj. “She’s really smart, asks tough questions, and pushes people to think differently. Exactly the kind of person we need for this project.”

My other colleague, Renee, frowned. “Hmm. I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve heard she can be divisive. Sometimes she challenges people too directly, throwing off the group dynamic.”

I hadn’t worked with Maya, but I felt that word, divisive, land heavily. We ended up inviting Maya onto the project, but I noticed, I now carried a story in my head about Maya. Her name had an asterisk next to it: “can be divisive.” And I wondered, how might that affect, or alter, her performance on the team?

Renee didn’t mean to sabotage Maya’s success, but that one word shaped our view of Maya.

Words carry power. It’s a subtle, covert, behind-the-scenes use of power, but very consequential. It shapes the conversation, directs our attention, and defines some things as important and others as irrelevant:

  • Does the headline read: “Insider Leaks Sensitive Documents, Jeopardizing National Security?” Or does it say “Whistleblower Exposes Government Overreach?”
  • Is the topic on the agenda, or postponed or removed altogether?
  • Does the candidate have “leadership potential” or are they “difficult?”

Organizations are full of tales about people, tales that take root, and harden into lore. “Oh, everyone knows she’s impossible to work with.” Or, “Everyone knows he’s brilliant.” Without direct evidence, or experience, we now have a feeling about someone, a feeling that shapes what we think and how we act. We accept explanations, simply because the story has been repeated enough to feel authoritative. We avoid some people because we’re told they’re difficult. We discuss some issues because they are presented as critical, while other, equally meaningful topics get sidelines.

Thus, our attention gets focused, our conversations shaped, and choices made in ways we rarely stop to question. But question it we must. As Adam Grant reminds us, we need to think again. To take a beat. To resist the easy path of accepting. It’s always easier to agree, to go along with, to accept a story rather than find your own. So it takes some discipline, some conscious effort to:

  • Pause: Instead of reacting, think. Digest. Consider. Give yourself time before responding or acting.
  • Question: Who says someone is “disruptive” or “brilliant”? What’s the evidence? Who holds a different opinion, and why?
  • Ask: What’s not being said. Whose voice isn’t in the conversation? What part of the story isn’t being told?
  • Challenge: “Is it really urgent?” “What else could be happening here?”

While the big, bold, visible acts of power rivet our attention, it’s these quiet, invisible acts of covert power which drive our behavior without us noticing. Covert power shapes outcomes quietly, but the power or your awareness and your resistance gives you the leverage to respond thoughtfully, make fairer decisions, and influence the conversation for the better.