If you have worked in tech for any length of time, you will have learned to read the room before you speak.
You know when to be decisive and when to dial it down. You know how to sound certain without sounding threatening. You know how to deliver competence without being labelled difficult.
You may not call this masking. You may call it leadership presence.
However, there is often a moment when a woman realises she is performing a version of herself rather than leading as herself. And that realisation rarely begins in adulthood.
A girl answers confidently in class and is told she is bossy. She excels and is described as intense. She makes a mistake and feels the embarrassment stay longer than the incident itself.
Without consciously deciding it, she learns something – that being capable is good, being too visible is risky and approval feels safer than standing out in the wrong way.
She learns that early learning does not disappear when you enter the workplace. It becomes more refined.
In leadership, those adjustments become structured patterns. I call them ‘Pretender Masks’.
The Perfectionist mask forms where mistakes once felt costly. If you are going to be taken seriously, you cannot afford to get it wrong, so you prepare harder. You double-check. You hold yourself to standards that quietly exhaust you.
The People Pleaser mask develops where belonging felt conditional. If harmony protects your place, you smooth tension quickly. You agree before you fully consider whether you do. You carry emotional labour that was never formally assigned to you.
The Persecutor of Self grows in high-achieving environments. If judgement is inevitable, you deliver it first. You drive yourself relentlessly because internal pressure feels safer than external doubt.
And sometimes, when the strain builds, the Persecutor of Others appears. Sharp. Direct. Unapologetic. Because if you appear strong enough, no one will question your position.
These masks are not weakness. They are intelligent adaptations. The problem is not that you developed them. The problem is that over time they can begin to run you.
The cost of masking as a leader is rarely obvious. You may still be promoted. You may still outperform. You may even be praised for your composure.
The cost shows up internally.
You hesitate before you contribute.
You replay meetings long after they end.
You feel responsible for managing everyone else’s comfort.
You over-deliver because being indispensable feels safer than being exposed.
Gradually, self-trust thins.
Instead of asking, “What do I think?” you start asking, “How will this be received?”
Stepping out of your mask is not about becoming louder or more confrontational. It is about restoring congruence. Congruence means that what you think, what you feel and what you say are broadly aligned. Not reckless. Not unfiltered. Simply aligned.
When you repeatedly say yes while meaning no, soften opinions you believe in, or tolerate behaviour that drains you, incongruence builds. And incongruence is exhausting.
The first step out of a mask is awareness.
Notice when your body tightens before you speak. Notice when you over-explain. Notice when you apologise automatically. Those are signals that protection has activated.
The second step is rebuilding self-value.
If your sense of worth is tied to being agreeable, flawless or endlessly capable, you will continue to mask. Stable self-value changes that equation. When you know your contribution has weight, disagreement does not feel like rejection. Feedback does not feel like a threat. You can stay steady in challenge without shrinking or attacking.
Self-value is not built through positive affirmations. It is built through evidence. Keep a record of decisions you made that worked. Document impact. Recognise where your judgement has served the team well. This strengthens the part of you that does not need constant approval to feel secure.
The third step is practising micro-congruence.
You do not need to dismantle your leadership identity overnight. Instead, choose moments where you speak one degree closer to what you genuinely think. Not louder. Not sharper. Just more accurate.
When someone interrupts you, finish your sentence. When you disagree, say so calmly. When a deadline is unrealistic, state that clearly.
You may find that the reaction you feared is less dramatic than you imagined.
Finally, protect your rhythm. Masks become heavier when you are depleted. Exhaustion pushes you back into protection. Rest is not indulgence; it is regulation. When your nervous system is steadier, you can tolerate disagreement without feeling destabilised.
Stepping out of your mask is not about becoming a different kind of leader. It is about trusting that you do not have to perform strength in order to possess it.
Women in tech have often learned that credibility requires careful calibration. But the leaders who endure are not those who perfect the performance. They are those who know who they are underneath it.
When self-trust grows, the mask loosens. And leadership becomes more fun, and far less exhausting.
