We often imagine changemakers as loud, fearless revolutionaries — people who charge into systems with a raised fist and a clear plan. But in reality, the anatomy of a changemaker is quieter. It’s messier. It’s built not just on courage, but on moments of doubt, setbacks, and choices that don’t look heroic until much later.
I’ve come to realise that being a changemaker isn’t about shouting the loudest. It’s about standing up when it matters — even when your voice shakes, even when you’re the only one in the room, even when the reward is uncertain.
And that’s the first truth: changemakers are often afraid.
Afraid to stand out. Afraid to say what others won’t. Afraid that doing the right thing might cost them everything — respect, comfort, reputation. But they do it anyway. That’s the defining trait.
We do it not because we’re fearless. We do it because we can’t not do it.
There’s a quiet voice inside — sometimes persistent, sometimes barely audible — that says: this matters. And for a real changemaker, that voice eventually outweighs the fear.
Changemakers think big — and execute
Ideas are cheap. Everyone has visions of a better world, a better product, a better way. But changemakers are the people who act. Who move the needle, even when no one is watching.
I’ve learned that it’s not enough to dream. You have to operationalise those dreams. Break them down. Build systems. Gather people. Take risks. Deal with bureaucracy, inertia, resistance — and keep going. The ability to combine vision with execution is what sets real changemakers apart from idealists.
It’s not glamorous. Most of the time, it’s uncomfortable. But if you commit, you become the proof that change is possible.
Changemakers mobilise people
No one changes the world alone. It’s a myth.
Real changemakers don’t just lead — they mobilise.
They inspire movement, not just agreement. They bring people together around a shared purpose, even if their backgrounds, perspectives, or priorities differ. They know how to build coalitions, how to spark courage in others, how to create enough momentum that the movement carries itself forward.
Sometimes that means rallying a team. Other times, it means activating a community, a boardroom, or an entire culture. But always, it means remembering that leadership is about movement, not control.
I’ve learned that impact grows exponentially when you trust others to help carry it forward — and when you have the humility to know that lasting change is built through collective effort, not personal heroics.
Changemakers choose the greater good over their ego
This one’s not easy. Especially in leadership roles where success is often measured in titles, salaries, status, or visibility.
But real impact requires us to shrink our egos and expand our purpose. Sometimes that means taking a pay cut. Sometimes it means stepping aside so others can shine. Sometimes it means being misunderstood, underestimated, or even attacked — and still showing up with integrity.
For me, the turning point came when I stopped asking “How can I look good?” and started asking “What is needed from me now?”
That shift is powerful. And freeing. Because when you’re no longer obsessed with being seen as impressive, you become unstoppable.
Changemakers are bold and deeply human
This is perhaps the most misunderstood quality. Boldness isn’t about dominance — it’s about presence. It’s about choosing truth over comfort, clarity over confusion, and action over passivity.
But boldness without humanity becomes arrogance. Real changemakers lead with empathy, not just authority. They can sit with complexity. They can hear hard truths. They can admit when they’re wrong.
I believe in being both — badass and soft, strategic and kind. I’ve worked in rooms where being vulnerable was considered a weakness. But I’ve learned that being deeply human is the greatest strength a leader can have. That’s what earns trust. That’s what builds followership. That’s what creates momentum.
Changemakers move — but they weigh the risks
One of the biggest lies we tell ourselves is that we’ll act once we feel “ready.” But that moment rarely comes. The world doesn’t pause so we can figure it out.
That said, not every battle is worth fighting.
Changemakers don’t create disruption for the sake of it. They assess the risks — strategically, not emotionally. They ask: Will this risk sink the ship or merely leave a dent? That’s the essence of the “above the waterline” principle.
If the potential damage is below the waterline — meaning it could jeopardise the whole mission, the team, or core values — it’s wise to hold back or rethink the approach. But if the risk is above the waterline — uncomfortable, maybe painful, but survivable — then we must ask: Is the potential reward worth it?
Because if it is, then hesitation becomes a liability.
That’s when changemakers act. Even if it’s imperfect. Even if they feel alone. Even if they can’t guarantee the outcome.
Every meaningful step I’ve taken was marked by some degree of uncertainty:
“Is it worth it?”
“Will it work?”
“Will people follow?”
There’s no guarantee. But there is a cost to staying silent. And I’ve learned that not acting — when the reward clearly outweighs the risk — hurts more in the long run. So, in that spirit: happy changing 🙂
