Blog 55 / Leading Without a Microphone: Leadership Before Titles and Recognition
As I reflect on 2026—what has been accomplished, what is unfolding, and what may still be ahead for my research, writing, career, and profession—I am grateful.
There are things happening now that are much easier to see.
Conference platforms. Research. Writing projects. Teaching. Opportunities to share ideas in rooms I once only imagined entering. Work that began as questions and observations is finding its way into conversations much larger than me.
But none of this started with a microphone.
It did not begin when someone invited me to speak.
It did not begin when my name appeared on a conference program.
It did not begin when I earned the right to put Dr. in front of my name.
And it certainly did not begin when someone decided I was worthy of recognition.
The leadership began long before any of that.
Before the Microphone
About eight years ago, I re-entered the world of higher education. I was working directly with students and supporting their postsecondary educational journeys. Many of them were members of a generation bringing new expectations, experiences, questions, and ways of seeing the world into institutions that had existed long before them.
And as I worked, I started paying attention.
Something felt disconnected.
I looked at the communities being served. Then I looked at the people making decisions about how those communities should be served.
I noticed gaps in representation.
I noticed generational gaps.
I noticed perspectives that seemed absent from certain tables.
Most importantly, I knew the community.
These were not simply demographics on a spreadsheet to me. These were neighborhoods I understood. Schools I recognized. Experiences that felt familiar. I had graduated from one of the high schools within the broader community I was now helping to serve.
That made the work personal.
I cared about whether students felt seen.
I cared about whether they felt understood.
I cared about whether the strategies created to reach them actually connected with their lived realities.
And when I believed something could be done differently, I felt a responsibility to say so—even though I did not have a shiny leadership title attached to my name.
Looking back, I realize something now that I could not fully articulate then:
I was already leading.
I Didn't Want to Simply Criticize the Table
It would have been easy to identify everything I thought was wrong.
Leadership was too disconnected.
Representation was insufficient.
Some approaches felt outdated.
Some decisions did not seem responsive enough to the communities they were intended to serve.
But criticism alone would not change anything.
Eventually, I had to ask myself a harder question:
If I believe another perspective needs to be at the table, what am I willing to do to prepare myself to occupy that seat?
That question changed my life.
I didn't want to spend my career standing outside the room criticizing the table.
I wanted to prepare myself to sit at it.
And if necessary, I wanted to become equipped to build another table altogether.
So I started preparing.
Not because someone promised me a position.
Not because I knew exactly where the journey would lead.
And definitely not because there was a microphone waiting for me at the end.
I simply knew that if I wanted to participate in changing higher education, I needed to become increasingly prepared to do the work.
Leadership Before the Title
I started teaching.
I pursued professional development.
I sought opportunities to learn.
I paid attention to leadership, institutional culture, student experiences, belonging, representation, communication, and the ways organizations connect—or fail to connect—with the people they are supposed to serve.
Eventually, that preparation led me toward doctoral education.
Even then, I approached the decision intentionally.
Before applying to doctoral programs, I talked with people who had already completed the journey. I asked questions. I listened to their experiences. I wanted to understand what they wished they had known before starting.
I wanted to know what kind of environment would allow me to grow.
I wanted to be challenged.
I wanted to be poured into.
And I wanted to pursue questions that mattered to me without losing the very perspective that inspired me to pursue the degree in the first place.
I wasn't simply searching for a doctorate.
I was preparing for what I believed I was supposed to do with it.
Because for me, the doctorate was never supposed to be decorative.
It was equipment.
The Degree Didn't Create the Leader
There is something interesting about looking backward from where I stand today.
It would be easy to construct the story as though earning the doctorate somehow transformed me into a leader.
It didn't.
The degree strengthened me.
It challenged me.
It gave me language, research training, scholarly grounding, and additional tools.
But the degree did not teach me to care about people.
It did not give me the instinct to advocate.
It did not create my willingness to help someone else succeed.
It did not give me vision.
And it did not suddenly make me a leader.
Those qualities were being developed years before anyone called me Doctor.
Leadership was happening when I was willing to raise a concern without having authority.
Leadership was happening when I took responsibility for outcomes attached to my work.
Leadership was happening when I saw something that could be better and tried to contribute toward making it better.
Leadership was happening when I sought knowledge before making major decisions.
Leadership was happening when I kept preparing for rooms I had not yet been invited into.
There was no microphone for most of that.
There wasn't supposed to be.
Building While Becoming
Even while completing my doctorate, I was building toward a future I could not completely see.
I was researching.
I was writing.
I was teaching.
I was presenting.
I was building relationships.
I was asking questions.
I was putting ideas into the world while simultaneously trying to finish one of the most demanding academic journeys of my life.
Some opportunities that are coming to fruition now were planted while I was still a full-time doctoral student.
Some began as inquiries.
Some began as pitches.
Some began as a willingness to send an email, submit an abstract, develop an idea, or walk into a room without knowing exactly what would come from it.
And all of that was happening while life was still life.
There were personal challenges.
There was adversity.
There were disappointments.
There were moments when what I was building professionally looked nothing like what I was experiencing personally.
That's the part we don't always see when someone's work finally reaches a visible platform.
We see the microphone.
We don't always see the years before someone was handed one.
What the Microphone Actually Does
Today, I have opportunities to speak.
I have research that I intend to continue developing.
I have writing projects taking shape.
I have ideas about what I hope my contribution to higher education will become.
And I remain committed to being a transformative figure in a field that profoundly shaped my own life.
But the microphone did not create any of that.
The microphone simply amplified what had already been developing when nobody was listening.
That's an important distinction.
Because somewhere, someone is leading right now and doesn't realize it because their name does not appear at the top of an organizational chart.
Someone is advocating without authority.
Someone is developing an idea nobody has recognized yet.
Someone is taking another class.
Someone is researching the next step.
Someone is mentoring the person beside them.
Someone is questioning an outdated process.
Someone is preparing for a room they haven't been invited into yet.
And perhaps they are wondering whether any of it counts because nobody has given them the title.
It counts.
Leadership Doesn't Begin When They Call Your Name
One of the greatest things this journey has taught me is that leadership and visibility are not synonymous.
A title can formalize leadership.
A position can provide authority.
A platform can expand reach.
A microphone can amplify a voice.
But none of them automatically creates a leader.
Leadership begins much earlier.
It begins with how we respond when we recognize something needs to change.
It is found in whether we criticize the gap or prepare ourselves to help close it.
It is revealed in how we steward small responsibilities before anyone entrusts us with larger ones.
And sometimes leadership means spending years preparing for something you cannot yet prove will happen.
When I re-entered higher education years ago, I could not have predicted exactly what 2026 would look like.
I couldn't see every conference.
I couldn't see every writing project.
I couldn't see the research that would eventually emerge from questions that were only beginning to form.
But I could see a need.
And I believed I had a responsibility to prepare myself to respond to it.
So, I did.
And perhaps that is what I am most grateful for when I look backward.
Before there was a platform, there was preparation.
Before there was recognition, there was responsibility.
Before there was a doctorate, there was vision.
Before there was a microphone, there was a voice.
And long before anyone handed me a title, I had already decided to lead.
Remember, bold conversations, brewed fresh - one cup at a time!
Dr. Courtney Nicole Johnson
Founder of CourtneyCoffeeChats
Bold Conversations, Brewed Fresh.
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