Have you ever sat in silence, smiling and blinking, waiting for someone to finally get it?
You say nothing, but your eyes are screaming. You didn’t ask for what you needed, but now you’re mad they didn’t deliver. You tell yourself things like,
“I mean, it’s my birthday,” or…
“We’ve been together how long?” or…
“I had a hard day. They should know.”
You’re expecting people to read your mind, and when they don’t, you treat it like betrayal. Meanwhile, they’re over there eating tacos and watching reruns of Friends or Girlfriends, completely unaware that you are spiraling. If you never said it, how were they supposed to know? It’s not romantic, it’s not noble, and it’s certainly not thoughtful.
It is unclear. And unclear is unkind.
Imagine getting pulled over for speeding in an area with no posted signs. The officer says, “You ought to know. This is a busy area.” You would demand PROOF. You would ask, “Where was the sign?” You would be furious and rightfully so. So why do we hold people to expectations we never posted? Why do we expect them to operate by rules we never said out loud? We do this every day. And it’s not just in personal relationships. It shows up in the workplace too, and it costs us peace, respect, and often our sense of control.
I first learned the phrase “Clear is kind. Unclear is unkind” as a teacher. My principal shared it with us during a professional development session and credited Brené Brown. At the time, I understood it in the context of students. We were taught to be clear about classroom routines, grading expectations, and our daily procedures. The idea was that students perform better when they know what to expect. When things are consistent and predictable, they feel safe. When students don’t know how the day will go, they don’t engage in learning. They go into survival mode. They shut down. At the time, I applied the quote to my teaching, but it wasn’t until later that I realized it also applied to adults.
Clarity is not just for children. It is a form of care that translates into every relationship and environment, especially the workplace.
Let’s start with a situation you may have experienced.
The Manager Issue
Your manager keeps overstepping. Maybe they assign you last-minute work or talk to you in a way that feels disrespectful. You feel frustrated, but you never say anything. You vent about it. You replay the conversation in your head. You tell your friends, “I’ve set a boundary.” But here’s the hard truth. If you didn’t say anything, you didn’t set a boundary. You simply hoped they would change. And hope, as a communication strategy, leaves people confused. A boundary that only exists in your mind is not a boundary. It’s a silent grudge waiting to explode. Now, that manager SHOULD ABSOLUTELY know that's not okay, but when our actions and words are in misalignment, we play a role in our own mental torture. Think about what that means before you get upset with me.
Then there’s the feedback loop that leads straight into self-doubt. You’ve been doing your job well. Your work is solid. Your deadlines are met. Then your manager pulls you into a meeting and says something like, “I’ve been hearing some feedback… people feel like your tone has been off lately.” You ask for clarification, and they have none. No examples. No context. Just a vague comment that plants a seed of anxiety. Now you’re spiraling. You begin to question everything you say, everything you write, and how you show up in meetings. That is not helpful feedback. That is leadership avoidance masked as concern. Feedback without specificity is not development; it is disorientation. And when leaders do not take the time to name what they need or offer actionable clarity, they are choosing comfort over accountability.
And then there’s Jimmy from accounting.
Jimmy is a nice guy. Friendly. Loves to connect. Loves to hover. You’re deep in your workflow, and here comes Jimmy standing at your desk with a casual, “Hey, got a second?” You smile. You fake laugh. You drop hints like, “I’ve got a lot on my plate today.” But Jimmy does not pick up on hints. And instead of having a direct conversation, you start altering your behavior. You leave for lunch at odd times. You wear headphones just to create a barrier. You reroute your path through the office just to avoid Jimmy’s desk. Jimmy is not the villain here. Your silence is. You are asking someone to respect a boundary you have not communicated, and now you’re the one carrying the weight of the emotional labor that could have been released with a single clear sentence.
This brings us to the root of the issue.
Directness is not rudeness.
Being direct does not mean being harsh, cold, or confrontational. What makes a statement rude is the intention behind it and the tone it carries; not the fact that it was spoken clearly. Being direct means choosing to speak with honesty and care, not packaging your needs in so much fluff that no one understands what you actually mean. It means respecting yourself enough to say the thing and respecting others enough to trust they can handle it. You can affirm someone’s intention, name your boundary, and offer a solution, but only if you want to.
Back to Unaware Jimmy.
Let’s say Jimmy shows up again while you’re trying to work. This time, you decide to speak up. You say,
“Hey Jimmy, I really value how connected you are with the team. When I’m at my desk, I’m usually in deep focus and trying to stay in that zone. Would you be okay if we caught up during lunch on Thursdays instead?”
That’s one way. If you don’t want to offer extra time, that’s also fair. You could say,
“Hey Jimmy, I appreciate your energy and how much you bring to the team. Just so you know, I do my best work when I’m not interrupted, so I try to keep things quiet when I’m at my desk. Moving forward, I would like to keep conversations org critical only. Thanks for understanding.”
Neither of those examples is rude. Both are kind. Both are clear. One offers connection. One does not. But neither leaves Jimmy guessing.
What makes communication kind is not how softly it is said—it is how clearly it is delivered. You do not get to stay silent and then punish people for not doing what you never asked. You do not get to call someone rude for being honest in a way that you never learned to receive. You do not get to say you “set a boundary” when all you did was stay quiet and hope. That is not maturity. That is emotional avoidance. Silence does not protect your peace. It delays your discomfort and often creates more of it. The longer you wait to say what needs to be said, the harder it becomes to reclaim your clarity.
So say the thing. Say it before resentment builds. Say it before confusion spreads. Say it because you deserve relationships, workplaces, and leadership models that do not require guessing games to function. Clarity is not cruel. It is care.
