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Hello,

I’m short. I’ve always known it. I was never the girl who shot up tall and then plateaued early. I was always the shortest in the class. Always. In fact, I was even voted “shortest” in my high school yearbook, which was odd. I am still not sure how that was something people voted on. It was not an opinion. It was simply a fact.

In my family, however, I am of average height. I am taller than my older sister, one of my cousins, and my maternal grandmother. On my mom’s side, we are not tall people.

Just as oddly, last year, I was in a meeting when someone approached me and said, “It’s so nice not to be the shortest person for once. You’re 4'11" like me, right?”

I said, “No, I’m 5'1".”

She looked at me and asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“No, you’re 4'11". You’re definitely not 5'1".”

I was not going to argue with her, but what followed was more surprising than the interaction itself... I started to question myself, even though about a month before that moment, I had my annual physical. I had been measured at 5'1" and a half. That was not my perception. It was not my interpretation. It was empirical evidence. Still, her certainty disrupted my own.

When I got home, I told my husband the story. He asked, “Do you want me to measure you?” Despite wanting to just lean into the facts that I had from my doctor, I said yes. Her certainty had more influence in that moment than my own knowledge and recent data.

Not surprisingly, I was exactly what I had been at the doctor’s office: 5'1" and a half.  What struck me most was not that I was right, but that I needed confirmation. I felt relief, not validation.

If It Can Happen to Me…

If my confidence can waver, even briefly, because of an interaction that lasted less than a minute, about something I both knew and had evidence for, then this is not about height. This is about how easily certainty from others can override truth. That has implications far beyond a casual conversation. It has implications for children, for adults, and for anyone navigating a world filled with constant input.

We live in a world that is more connected than ever. Information travels instantly. Opinions are shared widely. Voices are amplified. Ironically, it has become harder to determine what is actually true.

Sometimes the messages are subtle. In a Dove campaign, girls were asked to show what it means to “run like a girl” or “throw like a girl.” Many older participants responded with exaggerated, weak movements. They were not describing reality. They were reflecting what they had learned to believe. The younger participants hadn't yet learned the message.


Other times, the messages are more consequential. Claims such as “vaccines cause autism” have been thoroughly debunked, yet they persist. Repetition gives falsehoods staying power. Correcting those beliefs later requires far more effort than establishing truth from the start.

This dynamic is not limited to media. It shows up in everyday environments. In my own work, for example, we were discussing staffing for the upcoming year. No decisions had been finalized. I had not even met with the team to make those decisions. Still, rumors began circulating that a position would not be filled.

I had to communicate clearly to staff and families that what they were hearing was not accurate. If it was not coming directly from another administrator or me, it should be treated as a rumor. The situation mirrored the telephone game. Information shifted as it moved, yet it gained confidence as it spread.

Becoming a More Critical Consumer

The question becomes: how do we determine what is true?

Part of the answer is learning not to let someone else’s voice overtake your own. That does not mean refusing to learn new information or clinging to what you think you know. It means recognizing that confidence is not proof. When something challenges what you believe, especially when it is delivered with certainty, you do not have to accept it immediately. You can pause long enough to ask yourself what you already know and how you know it.

At the same time, trusting yourself does not mean assuming you are always right. When new information challenges your thinking, it deserves attention, not automatic acceptance. That is where the work comes in. What are this person’s sources? Is there independent research that supports or contradicts what they are saying? What bias might they have? What bias might you have? These questions matter because truth is not determined by who sounds the most certain, it is uncovered by people who are willing to slow down and examine it.

Not Just Consumers, but Contributors

That responsibility does not end with what we consume. It extends to what we share. Every time we repeat something we have not verified, whether it is a rumor at work, a claim online, or something we heard from someone we trust, we risk becoming part of the problem. We add to the noise. We give credibility to something that may not be true.

Most misinformation is not spread by people who intend to mislead. It is spread by people who think they are helping, informing, or protecting others. That is what makes it so powerful. A rumor can sound like concern. A false claim can sound like advocacy. A biased perspective can sound like fact. Being thoughtful means refusing to participate in that cycle without doing the work first.

The Power of What We Repeat

Repetition works. It works when the message is false, and it works when the message is true. We all know that if a child hears often enough that they are not capable, not smart, or not enough, those messages take hold. If adults hear the same claims repeated from the same sources, those claims begin to feel like truth, even when they are not grounded in evidence.

The opposite is also true. In The Help, Viola Davis’s character tells the child in her care, again and again, “You is kind, you is smart, you is important.”


That repetition matters because what we hear consistently becomes what we believe. We cannot control every message that people hear, but we can be intentional about the ones we reinforce. We can name what is true. We can challenge what is false. We can slow down before we accept something, and we can slow down before we repeat it.

Standing Tall in What We Know

If I can second-guess myself, even briefly, about something as objective and measurable as my own height, then it is entirely reasonable that others internalize what they are told. That reality calls for intention. It requires being thoughtful about what we consume, critical about what we accept, and responsible for what we share. It also requires returning, consistently, to what we know to be true, even when someone else says it differently. When we do that, we stand a little steadier, a little stronger, and yes, a little taller.

~Heather

P.S. There are moments in meetings, conversations, and decisions where you feel it. That pause. That internal question. Should I say something, or let this go?

That is why my Catch of the Week this week is a simple framework I came across from Amy Lentz (@hackyourhr). She said, in this post, before speaking up, ask yourself: will this have a net negative, neutral, or positive impact? If the answer is negative, it may be worth rethinking how or whether to say it. If the worst case is neutral, say it.


That is the part that stuck with me. Too often, silence is not about wisdom. It is about hesitation, overthinking, or concern about how something might land. The perceived risk feels higher than it actually is. In many cases, what we hold back would not cause harm and might even help.


The catch is this: the bar for contributing does not need to be perfection. It just needs to clear harm. If your voice has the potential to move something forward, or at the very least not set it back, it is worth using.


P.P.S. Please remember to...


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