Not a Bobblehead Staying quiet is easier… but speaking up matters more

The motion had already been made.  And seconded.   

The board was about to vote on the annual budget when I realized something strange.

None of us had actually seen it.

Staff explained that the finance committee had reviewed the numbers and recommended approval. That sounded reassuring. But the rest of us were being asked to approve a budget we hadn’t been given.

I scanned the room, trying to catch someone else’s eye. Surely I wasn’t the only one thinking this.

No one said anything. So I raised my hand.

“Excuse me… shouldn’t we actually see the budget before we vote on it?”

You could feel the shift. Staff was irritated. A few people looked uncomfortable. But then another board member spoke up and agreed.

I suggested we table the vote, send the budget to the full board, and reconvene.

That became the new motion. And it passed.

Afterward, a few people quietly thanked me. One or two warned me that challenging staff like that wasn’t a great idea.

My response was simple.

I’m not a bobblehead.

Board members have a fiduciary responsibility. If we’re asked to approve a budget, we should probably read it first.

That meeting was fifteen years ago. I still remember it because it was the first time I recognized how often people stay quiet in rooms where they shouldn’t.

Not because they agree. Because it feels safer.

A much more recent example played out on a neighborhood Zoom call.

At one point, a participant became so agitated he shouted, “This is bullshit!” He then doubled down, arguing that newer residents shouldn’t have the same voice as those who had lived there longer.

I was furious.

But anger doesn’t move a conversation forward. So I muted. Took a breath. And waited until I could respond calmly.

Then I said, “I take offense to the idea that how long someone has lived here determines their right to speak.”

I reminded the group that we all chose this community. Whether someone moved in thirty years ago or three months ago, every homeowner has the same rights and responsibilities.

The tone shifted almost immediately. Others started speaking up. The conversation became more respectful and, eventually, more productive.

Not because I said something brilliant. Because I said something.

The third example was quieter, but just as telling.

I was on a project team reviewing a draft PowerPoint. The slides were dense, jargon-heavy, and overloaded with text. More report than presentation.

Which meant someone needed to say it.

But offering critique in a group setting, especially on a virtual call, is uncomfortable. You’re staring at a grid of faces, or worse, a grid of black squares. No body language. No easy read on how it will land.

Timing and tone matter.

When the moment felt right, I suggested we simplify. Cut the text. Use more visuals. Make it something people could actually absorb.

Once it was said, others jumped in. The presentation got better.

Three very different situations. A boardroom fifteen years ago. A heated Zoom call. A quiet project meeting.

Same dynamic every time.  People stayed quiet even when something wasn’t right. Not because they didn’t see it. Because speaking up feels risky.

You might be wrong. You might offend someone. You might be labeled difficult.

So we nod. We defer. We move on.

But strong organizations, healthy communities, and effective teams aren’t built by people who nod along. They’re built by people willing to speak up. Respectfully. Thoughtfully. Clearly. People willing to be just uncomfortable enough to make things better.

So here’s the real question.

The next time you’re in a room, or on a screen, and something doesn’t sit right…

Will you stay quiet?

Or will you raise your hand, unmute, and say what many others might be thinking? And if someone else gets there first, will you back them up?

Because courage doesn’t just show up in the first voice. It shows up in the second one too.

Speak up ... or don’t. Which one will you choose?

If you’ve had one of these moments, I’d genuinely love to hear about it.

Email me at stacy@fireflyforyou.com.