An introvert is not a broken extrovert. And yet we’re often viewed as something (or someone) to fix.

Introverts confuse people. Not because we’re mysterious or aloof, but because we lead well, deliver results, hold our ground… and then disappear for an hour to recover. That mismatch between outward competence and the hidden cost of staying “on” is where most misunderstandings start.

An introvert is not a broken extrovert. Yet many workplaces treat us as such. If we’re quiet, someone asks "what’s wrong". If we pause to think, we’re told to “speak up”. If we prefer small groups, we’re encouraged to “push ourselves” into bigger ones. The assumption sits just beneath the surface: extroversion is the standard; introversion is something to fix.

Leadership culture reinforces this bias. The classic image of a leader is still bold, outgoing, permanently energised by people. Those leaders exist, and when they’re good, they’re extraordinary. When they’re not, they’re exhausting. But they’re not the only model. Some of the most effective leaders I’ve worked with, and some of my best work, are grounded in introverted strengths: depth, clarity, calm, and the ability to make decisions without drowning in noise.

The energy tax

Many people don’t see that every simple meeting carries a cost. A one-hour conversation can take half a day out of an introvert’s internal battery. A training session or a Board meeting? That’s a marathon disguised as a casual jog.

And networking? Networking is my worst nightmare. Not because I dislike people, but because being the focus of attention drains me faster than any strategic workshop I’ve ever run. It’s emotionally expensive in a way few extroverts appreciate. I show up, I contribute, I cope, yet it often takes far more from me than it gives back. It’s not reluctance, and it’s not a flaw. It’s the energy cost of operating in a room built for someone else’s operating system.

We show up. We’re engaged. We contribute. We lead. We hold space for other people’s ideas and anxieties. Then we log off and stare out the window until the room stops spinning. This isn’t dramatic. It’s biology. It’s also professionalism. We give everything when it matters. The fatigue that follows isn’t weakness; it’s proof of investment.

The myth of the “fix”

There’s a persistent belief (sometimes subtle, sometimes blunt) that introverts need correcting. “Come out of your shell.” “Be more vocal.” “Push yourself to network.” Wrapped in positive language, offered as encouragement, but ultimately saying: your way isn’t enough.

If the advice always centres on being louder, faster, and more visible, what message do we absorb? That our natural way of working sits somewhere below the leadership benchmark. That real leaders operate at full volume.

But extroversion isn’t the benchmark. It’s one leadership style. A good one. A valuable one. But introversion is a style too. And it doesn’t need upgrading. Telling an introverted leader to “speak more” is like telling an extroverted leader to “speak less”. Both are technically possible. Neither is sustainable.

The power of the introverted leader

Introverted leaders bring strengths that are easy to undervalue until you’ve experienced them.

• We listen. People feel heard (properly heard) which builds trust almost instantly.

• We think before we speak. This avoids chaos and limits the number of decisions we later have to reverse. 

• We notice patterns others miss. Quiet gives insight room to land. 

• We create space for others. Extroverted leaders often fill the air. Introverted leaders often make room for colleagues to grow. 

• We bring calm. When a room overheats, an introverted leader steadies it through presence, not volume.

These aren’t second-tier traits. They’re essential to balanced, modern leadership. Many organisations desperately need more of them.

The performance of leadership

The line that resonates with almost every introverted leader I’ve coached is that much of our leadership requires performance. Not inauthenticity, but intentional projection. We step up, dial up our visibility, and give more outward energy than we naturally produce. We do so because leadership demands it. Influence demands it. Credibility sometimes demands it. And we’re good at it (occasionally too good!). The effort becomes invisible, so the cost is underestimated.

After delivering a workshop, I may look absolutely fine. I’ll smile, answer questions, follow up with a tidy email. What people never see is the immediate decompression afterwards. The quiet. The reset. The bit that keeps the whole machine running.

Introverted leaders can (unfairly) lose credibility

The danger is that the hidden energy cost can be misread. We take a breath to think and someone assumes hesitation. We avoid small talk and someone assumes we’re standoffish. We give considered responses and someone assumes we lack confidence.

Underneath those assumptions sits a cultural bias: leadership must be loud to be effective. When introverted leaders don’t match that template, our strengths are overlooked and our style is misinterpreted.

Ironically, many leadership failures stem from unchecked extroversion, i.e., overconfidence, impulsive decisions, and charisma mistaken for competence.

Building workplaces where introversion thrives

Workplaces don’t need to design themselves around introverts, but they do need to stop treating us as if we’re working against the “proper” leadership model. A few small shifts make a big difference:

• Normalise thinking time. Not every good idea comes instantly. 

• Set clear meeting expectations. Introverted leaders excel when the noise is stripped back. 

• Respect energy differences. One person’s fuel is another’s drain. 

• Don’t equate visibility with impact. Much of the most important leadership work is done quietly. 

• Value diversity of style. It’s as important as diversity of background.

We’re not broken. We’re effective. And occasionally exhausted.

Introverted leaders don’t need fixing. We need understanding. Not sympathy. Not special treatment. Just recognition that our path to effectiveness is different, not deficient. 

Quiet leadership isn’t an alternative version of the real thing. It is the real thing. It’s measured, steady, reflective, and often transformative. It doesn’t dominate the room; it reshapes it.

So no, an introvert is not a broken extrovert. We’re leaders who run on a different power source, one that needs careful recharging but also produces clarity, depth, stability, and genuine connection. And if the world could stop trying to fix us, we might just have enough energy left to fix a few bigger problems instead.