I’ve often said that I’ve worked for—and alongside—a lot of people who helped shape my approach to leadership. Not because I admired them or wanted to follow in their footsteps, but because of the exact opposite. Some of the most defining lessons of my career didn’t come from inspiring leaders or empowering environments. They came from moments that made me stop in my tracks—moments where I witnessed decisions, conversations, and behaviors that I couldn’t fathom directing at another human being. Moments that didn’t just challenge my understanding of leadership, but forced me to take a hard look at the kind of person I was committed to being, regardless of the environment I was in.
For a long time, I didn’t have language for that. I just knew it didn’t sit right. There was a disconnect between what I believed leadership should look like and what I was experiencing in real time. And like so many of us do, I tried to rationalize it. I told myself that maybe this was just how things worked at higher levels. That maybe this was the cost of success. That maybe I just needed to toughen up, adapt, and learn how to play the game the way it was being played around me.
But something in me never fully bought into that narrative.
I was reminded of that recently when I attended the annual luncheon for the YWCA, where Paula Abdul was the guest speaker. I didn’t walk in expecting a moment of clarity, but I walked out with one that has stayed with me ever since. At one point, she said, “Not all mentors come in nice packages. Some teach us what we never want to become.” It was one of those lines that lands instantly but takes a while to fully unpack. And the more I sat with it, the more I realized just how much of my own journey had been shaped by that exact kind of mentorship.
Up until that moment, I had always associated the word “mentor” with someone I respected and admired—someone whose path I wanted to follow, whose success I wanted to replicate, whose leadership I wanted to model. But the truth is, that hasn’t been the most consistent form of mentorship in my life. More often than not, my most impactful lessons came from the opposite experience. They came from watching leaders operate in ways that felt misaligned with my values, from observing dynamics that prioritized power over people, and from navigating environments where integrity often felt optional rather than foundational.
When Paula went on to talk about how much she learned from Simon Cowell during her time on American Idol—not because she wanted to be like him, but because of what his approach revealed to her—it reframed something for me in a way I hadn’t fully allowed before. There is a kind of wisdom that only comes from exposure to what doesn’t align. A kind of clarity that only comes from witnessing what you would never choose for yourself.
If we’re willing to pay attention—really pay attention—we start to see that every experience is shaping us. Every leader, every team, every culture leaves an imprint. And those imprints either pull us closer to who we want to become or push us further away from who we refuse to be. The key is recognizing that both directions hold value, if we’re intentional about what we take with us.
Because at the end of the day, how we show up is still our responsibility. The environments we’ve been part of may influence us, but they don’t define us unless we allow them to. The way we lead, the way we treat people, the choices we make when it would be easier to look the other way—those are decisions we own. All of them. The good, the bad, and the uncomfortable.
What I’ve come to understand is that some of the most powerful lessons I’ve learned didn’t come wrapped in encouragement or support. They came wrapped in disappointment, frustration, and at times, disbelief. But instead of carrying those experiences as bitterness, I made a different choice. I chose to let them sharpen my awareness. I chose to let them define my boundaries. I chose to let them clarify my standards.
And that clarity has been invaluable.
Because it takes real courage to lead differently. It takes intention to build something meaningful without cutting corners or compromising your values. It takes discipline to succeed without stepping on others or tearing people down along the way. And while that path isn’t always the fastest or the easiest, it’s the one that allows you to stay aligned with yourself in the process.
The wins that come from that kind of alignment hit differently. They carry weight. They carry meaning. Because you know what it took to get there—and more importantly, you know what you refused to become along the way.
Not everyone who shapes you is meant to inspire you in the traditional sense. Some are there to challenge you, to stretch you, and to show you, with undeniable clarity, what doesn’t belong in the version of yourself you’re building.
And if you’re willing to see those experiences for what they are, instead of what you wish they had been, you’ll realize something powerful.
Some people don’t mentor you by showing you who to be.
They mentor you by showing you exactly who not to become.
