IP LifeLine: Soft Power, Sharp Edges: Nice Gets You Nowhere…Unless You're a Man

IP LifeLine From Infection Control Today.

In the world of infection prevention, leadership usually comes with gloves on—sometimes metaphorical, sometimes not. We're expected to manage risk, lead teams through high-stakes decision-making, and do it all with a steady hand. It's not glamorous work, but it matters. A lot.

Over time, I’ve come to realize something that’s been sitting quietly in the background of my career, like a low-grade hum I couldn’t quite place until recently: being a man in this role comes with advantages that no one really talks about.

I’ll be blunt: being a man in this female-dominated industry has opened doors that stayed shut for others. I get to lead with kindness, empathy, and a steady, calm demeanor—and it’s called strong leadership. It's compassionate, grounded, and admirable, even.

For a long time, it felt like a secret—one I didn’t even know I was keeping. The way doors opened a little easier for me, and the way softness looked like strength on me, but weakness on someone else. Once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it.

I’ve seen what happens when women show up with that same softness—the tone of the room shifts. The benefit of the doubt vanishes. Suddenly, that same calm becomes “indecisive.” That same empathy gets read as “too nice.” So, they adapt. They armor up. Become sharper, more controlled, more assertive—not because that’s who they are, but because it’s what the system respects.

We love to tell leaders to “find their own style,” to “define leadership on their own terms.” It sounds great in theory. But the truth is, we can’t give that advice in good faith until we know that space is offered equally. For many women, stepping into leadership doesn’t come with the same margin for individuality. The freedom to experiment, lead with vulnerability, and skip the armor—that’s a privilege, not a guarantee. Telling someone to be authentic while the system quietly penalizes them for it isn’t empowerment. It’s setting them up to fail.

We’ve created a culture where the most authentic leaders must fight to be taken seriously unless they put on someone else’s skin. It’s exhausting. We’ve all been there—teeth clenched, shoulders hunched, driving home wondering when exactly we stopped being ourselves.

Then, we hand them a Lean Six Sigma belt or send them to a “Leadership Intensive” and call it progress. You walk out with a belt color and a new set of jargon, but if you’re not careful, you’ve also picked up a mask that doesn’t quite fit.

That’s not growth. That’s performance. It’s burning people out from the inside—and the smoke’s choking everyone around them, too.

As a male leader, I’ve benefited from this imbalance. It’s on me, and others like me, to call it out, advocate for change, and model a different way forward.

What can we do? Start here. If you're a man in this space, take inventory. Notice the room—notice whose voices get airtime, whose softness gets praised, and whose gets ignored. Men can start by making space for vulnerability—not just in theory but by modeling it themselves. Lead with empathy. Be patient, especially with female colleagues who may have had to build their leadership style in survival mode. If you're paying attention, you'll see it: guardedness that didn’t come from choice but from necessity. Don’t call it out. Don’t critique it unless feedback is invited. Just create enough safety around them that they don’t have to keep the armor on. And when you do see a woman leading with vulnerability, say something. Acknowledge it. Support it. That kind of courage deserves more than quiet observation—it deserves reinforcement.

For the women in this field—especially those who’ve had to lead with armor on for years—your experience matters. You’ve learned to survive in a system that hasn’t always made space for softness. But now, when you see another woman trying to lead with vulnerability, support her. Back her up in the meeting. Validate her voice. Let her know she’s not alone in trying something different. No one understands the risk of being authentic better than someone punished for it. So, when you have the power, use it to make the path a little less punishing for the next one in line.

And to every leader, regardless of gender, who’s felt the pressure to lead like someone you’re not—you don’t owe the system your exhaustion. The more of us who lead authentically, the harder it becomes to deny that authentic leadership can take many forms—and all of them deserve to be respected.

If we want to fix this, it starts with creating a world where people don’t have to trade authenticity for authority. Where being kind doesn’t mean you get run over. Where you can show up to work as yourself—not some sanitized version of who leadership is “supposed” to look like—and still be respected, still be heard, still be promoted.

That’s the kind of place I want to lead in. That’s the kind of leader I’m trying to be. And if I’ve been given more room to do that because I’m a man, then it’s on me to make d*** sure I’m not the only one who gets that space.

We shouldn't have to dress in someone else’s image to be taken seriously. The future of leadership is personal, and that’s a good thing.