The problem with polite lies
Friends! It’s so good to be back!
Before I get into today’s post, I want to thank you for your patience as I’ve been working on my big, secret project. It’s been busy over here, but in the best way. I made the most of my time away from the blog, and I’m so grateful for the creative space to focus on one of the most meaningful projects I’ve ever worked on. I truly can’t wait to share it with you when the time comes!
Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming . . .
There’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. I wanted to write about it because I’m curious if it’s something you’ve thought about, too.
For years now, I’ve been on a journey to uncover the truest, most authentic version of myself. And sometimes, that means catching myself when I say something that doesn’t feel 100% honest in my heart.
I’m not talking about holding back on growth feedback or how you feel in a relationship. Honesty matters in those moments, too, of course. What I mean are the little things we say in the name of politeness: “Oh, yes, that’s fine with me,” when it really isn’t, or, “Of course that’s a good color on you!” when it’s not. Comments like these usually fly under the radar because we say them so casually, we’re not fully conscious of our words when we say them.
But I think it’s important to call this what it is: lying. Somewhere along the way, we decided it’s acceptable to tell a small lie if it means keeping someone else comfortable.
I used to do this without even thinking about it. (And if you do, too, good news: You’re human!) But I had to get really honest with myself about how easily those small moments can add up. If I accept a little lying in one area of my life, what’s to stop me from justifying it elsewhere?
In 2020, I bought a book called Lying that helped me understand how I could change this habit. In the spirit of transparency, I didn’t read the whole book—just a chapter or two—but what I read stuck with me.
I remember a chapter about these small, everyday lies we tell. The author says we don’t say these things to be cruel or unfair. It’s actually exactly the opposite: We tell little lies to avoid hurting people’s feelings.
But, he argues, we don’t have to default to lying. There’s a way to be honest while still being kind. For example, if someone asks, “Does this outfit flatter me?” you could say something like, “I've seen things that flatter you more than that.” If you receive a gift you’re not excited about, you could say, “This is such a unique scarf.”
I really appreciated the author’s reframe: A lie is a lie. Even if it's small, it's still a lie, and that eats away at both your character and your trust in yourself. Saying something that’s both kind and honest is a better goal.
We can practice this everywhere in our lives, but I’ve been thinking about how it’s especially important in leadership.
As the leader of a team, I can think of so many times when someone shared an idea in a meeting that I didn’t agree with or think we should pursue. No matter how I truly felt, my instinct was to say, “I love that,” “That's great!” or, “Great idea.”
It didn’t feel like lying to me; I saw myself as encouraging participation. I didn’t want people to shut down or stop sharing their ideas. I wanted them to feel valued.
And yet, I was lying. My heart was in the right place: I wanted to be kind. But now, I define a kind leader as someone who operates with integrity in moments big and small.
Small lies have also crept into my facilitation. I’ve struggled with how to handle it when I’m leading a workshop or a retreat and someone shares an unpopular opinion or something totally off-topic. How do I respond in a way that makes them feel safe and included enough to continue to share but that also keeps us on track?
My response used to be, “Great thought!” or, “Love that.” But again, in those moments, I was defaulting to lying. And the flipside of that is when you say you love every single idea, it stops seeming genuine—because it probably isn’t.
I knew the answer wasn’t brutal honesty. If I said, “That’s a terrible idea,” that might be how I honestly feel, but it’s clearly unkind. If I'm trying to cultivate a safe space, telling someone I think their idea is terrible is probably going to cause that person to shut down.
Instead, I do what I learned from Lying: When I don't agree with or like something, I say, “That's an interesting perspective,” or, “I'm glad you shared that because I see it differently, and I wouldn't have thought about it that way.” Sometimes, all I say is, “Thank you for sharing your thoughts on that.”
Even when I like what someone shares, I try to respond honestly but in a way that doesn’t show favoritism. Instead of saying, “Great idea!” I think about what I can say that is authentic but doesn't minimize other people in the room or make them not want to contribute. An example is, “I appreciate how well that idea aligns with the goal we're trying to achieve.”
Speaking authentically also makes you come across more genuinely to others. When I was defaulting to white lies while facilitating, people could probably feel that I wasn't being genuine. Also, if someone says something off-topic or brings up a completely unrelated viewpoint, everyone in the room can tell. So then, they’re watching you to see how you handle it—meaning, they will know if you lie. And if you do, you might risk losing their trust.
To take it one step further, I think it’s important to think about what you're teaching yourself when you lie. Every time you lie to protect someone’s feelings, you are reinforcing that it's okay to lie, and you're probably more likely to default to that behavior in the future. But every time you stop and ask yourself, “What is something I can say in this moment that is both true and kind?” you are teaching yourself to tell the truth. Doing that again and again is how you make that your default reaction.
I think in all of these cases, what I've learned by responding with both kindness and honesty is that it’s possible to acknowledge and support someone without pretending or faking. I can make people feel heard and valued even when I disagree, and I can do all of that without sacrificing my authenticity and integrity.
I want to ask you: Have you ever found yourself defaulting to keeping others comfortable instead of being honest? Where do you think politeness or fear of hurting people replaces honesty in your conversations? What might it look like to respond in a way that is both truthful and kind? My team and I want to hear all about it! Hit “reply” and drop us a note. We love reading your responses!
Thanks for being back here with me. I hope this one makes you think!
You’ve got this!
Big hugs,
