The other day, I witnessed an unsettling scene - an older child physically assaulted another, while a third stood nearby. Later, when asked about the incident, the third child denied witnessing it. It would’ve been easy to label this denial as lying. After all, I saw him there with my own eyes. But the truth is often more complex than it seems at first glance.
Perhaps to him, what I perceived as aggression, he saw as normal rough play. Or maybe his mind was elsewhere—caught up in the stress of an assignment or a lingering worry—so much so that the moment barely registered. It’s also possible that his memory of the event shifted, clouded by time or emotion.
It might sound trite, but the stories we tell ourselves about the intentions of others changes everything. We often jump to conclusions, assuming dishonesty where there might simply be a difference in perception or memory. Leaders often encounter this tension when discerning the truth amid conflicting accounts. A tall feat while maintaining trust and fairness.
Our memories are imperfect.
We build Truth on memories, but they aren't always complete. I had someone tell me, months after a conversation, how something I said hurt them. The thing is, I had no memory of saying it. None. But does that mean it didn’t happen? Likely not. It was real to them, even if I couldn’t recall it.
We’re bombarded by so much information daily that it’s impossible to retain it all. Think about it - how often can you remember what you had for lunch yesterday? My husband asks me that question routinely, and more times than not, I draw a blank. So, if I can’t remember something as simple as a meal, how can I confidently assert I recall every word of a months-old conversation?
Arguing “I never said that” or dismissing someone’s account as wrong doesn’t foster resolution. It's dehumanizing. It shuts down further conversation. As wholehearted leaders it’s critical to pause, step back, and consider the possibility that memory and perception don’t perfectly align.
Our lived experiences shape our perceptions.
Another layer to this complexity lies in our upbringing and cultural norms. Someone raised in an environment where physical or verbal aggression was normalized, might not recognize certain behaviors as harmful, even when they clearly cross a line. To them, it’s just how people "relate."
In the workplace, this dynamic can show up when someone’s actions or words strike one person as crossing the line, but not another. These situations are full of shades of gray and require open, honest, curious and compassionate communication to work through.
The challenge for leaders is to navigate these subjective moments with care, recognizing that what feels egregious to one might feel ordinary—or even invisible—to another. And that doesn't mean the person crossing the line gets a pass.
Leading with Grace and Curiosity
All of this begs an important question: how can leaders create conditions for truth and healing in moments of conflict? The answer lies in fostering environments where people feel safe to speak up sooner rather than later. Harm is best addressed before memories fade or perceptions shift beyond recognition. And fostering safety is a process of give and take that involves open dialogue and a culture of receptivity to feedback.
Additionally, leaders must approach these situations with grace. Jumping to conclusions or labeling someone as dishonest or wrong shuts down dialogue and stifles resolution. Instead, we must embrace curiosity and care, even when accounts conflict. To extend compassion, knowing that memory and perception are messy, subjective things. Leaders must do this all while holding people accountable for harm caused, not sweeping it under the rug or dismissing it.
Seek First to Understand
Truth isn’t always clear-cut. It lives at the intersection of perception, memory, and context. As whole hearted leaders, as friends, as family members, we are called to hold space for this complexity. To approach it with patience, and to resist the urge to pass judgment too quickly.
In the end, truth isn’t just about what happened—it’s about how we respond to the moments when our realities collide. Lead with understanding, and you’ll pave the way for conversations that heal rather than divide.
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