The Empathy Lie: When Leadership Talks About Empathy Wrong

What Spark + Fire revealed when we stopped pretending empathy is simple

The randomizer led us to page 163, the empathy chapter from my book, and I ended up reading most of the chapter this time as the attendees wanted me to keep going.

Not the strategy chapters.

Not the frameworks.

The messy one.

The one where I admit that empathy has never been simple for me.

Because for most of my life, I have lived between two extremes.

Sometimes I feel too much. I absorb tension, grief, and emotional energy so strongly that it stays in my body long after the conversation ends.

Other times my system shuts down completely. Not because I don’t care, but because my nervous system sometimes protects itself by disconnecting.

That tension is what made me study empathy in the first place. Not as a virtue, but as a system.

And the conversation that followed my reading reminded me why.

Because empathy is one of the most celebrated concepts in leadership… and one of the most misunderstood.

My strange allergy to rapport empathy

The conversation actually began with something personal.

My strange allergy to rapport empathy.

In my book, I describe rapport empathy as creating connection through warmth, attentiveness, care, and presence without necessarily feeling or internalizing the other person’s emotions. It is empathy expressed through relational signals rather than emotional absorption.

And to be clear: I do not think rapport empathy is bad.

In fact, it can be incredibly useful.

Tanya described using it quite naturally. For her it is a normal way of connecting with people, warmth, presence, attentiveness. It helps people feel welcome and safe in conversation.

And she is right.

Rapport empathy can be powerful.

But I also shared something that happens inside me.

Because I am hypersensitive to emotional authenticity, I often notice when rapport empathy is present without deeper care behind it.

When the signals are there, the nodding, the warm tone, the reflective phrases, but something deeper feels absent.

Not maliciously absent.

Just… missing.

And my nervous system reacts to that before my mind even understands what is happening.

It feels like emotional choreography.

Like empathy is being performed rather than lived.

But here is the nuance we explored that night.

The problem is not rapport empathy itself.

The problem appears when rapport empathy becomes the only form of empathy being used.

Even in my book, I explain that rapport empathy works best when combined with other forms of empathy, emotional, cognitive, or compassionate empathy. On its own, it can sometimes feel incomplete, especially to people who are highly sensitive to emotional authenticity.

So the conversation did not become “rapport empathy is bad.”

It became something much more honest.

Rapport empathy can be powerful.

But it is not the whole story.

When theory becomes visible in a room

Once that nuance was on the table, the conversation café opened.

And suddenly the empathy chapter was no longer theory.

It was sitting around the room.

Sanne shared something many deeply empathic people recognize.

She has a strong ability to sit in other people’s chairs, to see the world from their perspective, to understand how something feels from where they stand.

That ability can be powerful. It creates understanding, compassion, and the ability to hold multiple perspectives in the same room.

But it also carries a cost.

When you can inhabit many perspectives, it becomes easy to carry too much of the emotional weight of others.

Not because the nervous system shuts down, but because the constant perspective-taking can slowly lead to burnout.

Then Robin spoke.

Robyn experiences something different.

He can also feel others’ pain deeply. But when the emotional intensity becomes too strong, his nervous system eventually protects itself.

He dissociates and steps into dissociative empathy.

Not because he does not care.

But because the system cannot continuously hold that level of emotional input.

What looks like distance on the outside can actually be the body protecting itself after feeling too much for too long.

Then Nicol shared her perspective.

Her empathy often begins from a more logical and analytical place. She understands situations, dynamics, and patterns well.

But she feels she wants to strengthen her rapport empathy, the relational warmth and presence that helps people feel emotionally met.

And that honesty mattered.

Because leadership culture often assumes people who start from logic lack empathy.

But cognitive empathy can be incredibly powerful.

Sometimes empathy is not about feeling more.

Sometimes it is about learning how to express care in ways others can perceive.

And then there was Tanya. As I described above, Tanya spoke about using rapport empathy quite naturally. For her, it is a normal and effective way of relating, building trust through presence, warmth, attentiveness, and connection.

She also saw the bigger picture in the chapter itself.

She noticed how the nuance in these different empathy experiences increases inclusivity.

Because the moment people understand that empathy is not one single emotional style, the room gets bigger.

People stop measuring themselves against one narrow standard.

They start seeing that different empathy styles bring different strengths.

And that insight matters.

Because without planning it, the room had become a living map of empathy:

❤️‍🔥 Sanne: deep perspective-taking that can lead to burnout.

❤️‍🔥 Robin: deep emotional pain that can lead to dissociation.

❤️‍🔥 Nicol: cognitive empathy with a desire to grow rapport empathy.

❤️‍🔥 Tanya: natural rapport empathy and relational warmth.

❤️‍🔥 And me: hypersensitivity to authenticity, noticing when empathy is present in form but missing depth.

None of these responses were wrong.

None of them were lesser.

They were simply different ways human beings connect, protect, understand, and care.

And that is exactly why the leadership conversation about empathy needs more nuance, not less. Empathy is not one single skill or feeling, but a spectrum of different ways of understanding and supporting others.

The uncomfortable truth about leadership and empathy

Here is the controversial part.

Leadership culture often treats empathy like a moral badge.

The more emotionally expressive you are, the more empathic you must be.

But that narrative collapses the moment you actually observe human beings.

Highly emotional leaders burn out because they absorb too much.

Analytical leaders assume they lack empathy entirely.

People trained in communication techniques perform empathy beautifully while sometimes missing deeper curiosity or care.

And people with trauma, neurodivergence, or sensory sensitivity may experience empathy in ways that leadership models never acknowledge.

Empathy is not a single personality trait.

It is a complex interaction between nervous systems, lived experiences, perception styles, and emotional regulation.

When leadership culture flattens that complexity, it does not make organizations more humane.

It quietly excludes people.

The deeper reflection this conversation stirred in me

The conversation also made me reflect on my own reaction to rapport empathy.

Yes, my sensitivity reveals something about how empathy can become mechanical.

But it also reveals something about me.

People who grow up in environments where emotional safety was inconsistent learn to read authenticity very carefully.

Warm words alone are not enough.

The body learns to scan for what sits beneath them.

That sensitivity is not always comfortable.

But it also means noticing when care is present, and when it is only performed.

That realization stayed with me the last couple of hours.

Because empathy is not just a leadership competency.

It is also shaped by our histories.

What Spark + Fire revealed

This evening revealed something I wish more leadership conversations would admit.

Empathy is not one flame. 🔥

Some people feel everything.

Some people feel so much they must step away.

Some people understand through logic.

Some people build connection through rapport.

Some people detect authenticity before words even land.

When leadership insists empathy must look one specific way, it shrinks the conversation.

And it quietly tells many people they do not belong in it.

But when we allow empathy to be complex, layered, and human…

something different happens.

Inclusion grows.

Not because we are nicer.

But because we finally acknowledge reality.

The closing words

As the conversation wound down, I shared one last reflection with the group.

Empathy is not about forcing ourselves into one ideal emotional style.

It is about people leaning into their authentic selves.

Understanding the empathy styles they naturally lean into.

Strengthening the empathy styles that help them better meet the people in their rooms.

Because no single person carries every form of empathy equally.

And that is not a weakness.

It is exactly where the power of diversity and inclusion comes from.

Where one type of empathy may struggle, another person’s empathy fills the gap.

One person feels deeply.

Another understands clearly.

Another connects through presence.

Another notices patterns others miss.

Together, the room becomes more capable than any individual alone.

That is the collective power of empathy.

Not perfection in one person.

But diversity across many!

Dragon wisdom

Empathy is not a single flame. 🔥

It is a dragon with many kinds of fire. 🔥💚❤️💙💜

Some dragons breathe warmth.

Some breathe clarity.

Some breathe distance so they do not burn themselves alive.

Some breathe light that reveals patterns others cannot see.

Leadership fails when it demands that every dragon breathe the same fire.

Leadership grows when we learn to recognize the fire each dragon carries.

Why I host these campfires

This is why Spark + Fire exists.

Not to perform leadership wisdom.

But to discover it together.

Because leadership is not learned through polished slogans about empathy.

It is learned in rooms where people are honest enough to say:

“I feel too much.”

“I disconnect when it becomes overwhelming.”

“I understand people logically.”

“I’m learning how to express care more visibly.”

“I notice when something is missing.”

That is where real inclusion begins.

Not when we praise empathy.

But when we finally tell the truth about it.

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