When I look back at the road travelled, I realise that the most important shifts we made didn’t come from a strategic answer. Almost without exception, they came from asking a simple, honest (and often the right) question.
Whether it was the plan to invest in doubling the Veova production capacity in Moerdijk, embracing a sense of family in our Uruguayan value propositions, Shell’s strategic response to the eBusiness phenomenon, divesting its investment in the BEB gas pipeline infrastructure in Germany, Damen’s acquisition of a share in the shipyard in Mangalia, or the rollout of a comprehensive compliance programme; all were in response to difficult and honest questions.
To expand on one of these examples: in Uruguay we were reviewing our value propositions in a market that was highly competitive. I asked the team: “How does family (which is so central to Latin American culture) play out in what we are offering?”
There was a pause. Then someone said: “It doesn’t.”
That was all it took. The team set to work enthusiastically on new propositions with family at their core. The result? A double-digit jump in market share. Not because we suddenly invented something revolutionary, but because one honest question opened the door to deeper alignment with the values of the people we served.
The pressure to have the answers
In many leadership roles—especially in finance and corporate settings—there’s powerful pressure to always have the answers. To appear professional, confident, decisive, unshakable.
That expectation is deeply tied to what I’d call a masculine mode of leadership. It’s built on (the perception of) control, certainty, and performance. Useful in some situations, yes. But also limiting. Because when leaders feel they must have the answers, this typically leads to contraction, and they stop asking the deeper questions that really matter. The solutions that get implemented often miss the mark.
I felt this pressure most acutely in the challenging context of rebuilding the DeepOcean Group after it came out of the bankruptcy of its parent, Trico Marine Services, Inc. Apart from a demanding Supervisory Board, I had to deal with many fast-paced, smart MBAs, predominantly from the Bay Area and New York in the US, asking questions on behalf of their 80+ private equity companies that became shareholders after a debt-for-equity swap. Shareholders whose investments were at risk of evaporating.
When I didn’t have an immediate answer, I was judged as not being deep enough in the details or on top of things—and felt judged as incompetent. Saying “I don’t know yet” wasn’t an option.
But over time, I learned that what actually builds trust is honesty and the courage to inquire deeply.
The courage of feminine leadership
Here’s where feminine leadership traits bring balance and wisdom. Feminine leadership welcomes ambiguity. It holds space for reflection and dialogue instead of rushing to closure and the illusion of certainty. It listens more than it speaks.
I’ve seen colleagues exhibit this when they ask questions like: “Whose voice is missing from this decision?” or “What do we need to hear that we may not want to hear?” These aren’t signs of weakness—they are signs of responsibility.
Honest questions that keep us grounded
Over the years, I have learned that the deeper, more essential questions don’t always arrive in the moment. Often, they surface a few days later, after my subconscious has had time to wash over the issue. I’ve come to see that my working memory is often so fully occupied that it only produces the first, more superficial questions. The right question emerges when I give it space.
How do we, as leaders, create room for those deeper questions to arise—questions that may not come instantly, but that ultimately matter most?
An example comes from my recent work with CFOs on sustainability transformation. Many were feeling torn—CEOs paying it lip service, shareholder demands pulling one way, personal values another. In one session, a CFO admitted she felt paralysed by the pressure to deliver quarterly results while knowing that business as usual was undermining long-term sustainability. I didn’t offer her an instant solution. Instead, I asked: “Which choice will let you sleep peacefully years from now?”
The meeting went quiet, much like in Uruguay years earlier. But then the conversation shifted. Suddenly, we weren’t just talking about earnings and metrics—we were talking about stewardship, legacy, and integrity. Weeks later, she told me that question gave her the courage to bring a different voice into her boardroom, one that insisted on balancing today’s performance with long-term value creation for generations to come.
From compliance to courage
When leaders dare to ask these honest, hard questions, something shifts around them. People feel safer to surface their own doubts. Silence gives way to courage. Instead of a culture of compliance, you begin to see a culture of values, responsibility, and creativity.
And that’s what a just and sustainable future requires: not leaders who always look flawless, but leaders who are real. Leaders who create space for the deeper questions that keep us aligned with purpose and with life.
A new kind of strength
I’ve come to see that leadership is not about looking strong by having all the answers. True strength lies in asking the questions that others avoid, and in holding the tension until something deeper emerges.
For many of us shaped by masculine leadership patterns, this means letting go of the fear of being judged. It means embracing the feminine gifts of openness, listening, and curiosity.
Because in the end, leadership is not about being right. It’s about being responsible. And responsibility begins not with the answers we give, but with the courage of the questions we ask.
Closing the loop
What strikes me, looking back, is how the same principle has held true in very different contexts. In Uruguay, one honest question about family unlocked commercial growth and deeper cultural resonance. Years later, a hard question about legacy and integrity helped a CFO step into her role as a steward of long-term value.
The questions we dare to ask—especially the ones that feel a bit risky—can change everything. They can shift markets. They can shift boardrooms. And ultimately, they can shift the future we are building together.
So here’s a question to carry with you: What is the one honest, uncomfortable question you’ve been avoiding—and what might change if you asked it out loud?
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