We Keep Canceling the Humans Who Teach Us

When someone you admire fails, what actually breaks inside you?

Is it their credibility — or the illusion you built around them?

We don't just learn from leaders. We elevate them. We construct something cleaner than humanity — something polished, certain, morally immune.

And then we wait.

Waiting to see if they can carry the weight of what we placed on them.

History tells us how this usually ends.

Maria Montessori revolutionized education with a philosophy centered on honoring the child — independence, dignity, emotional development. Yet early in her life, she placed her own son in foster care.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau wrote one of the most influential works on child development in Western history and sent his own children to a foundling hospital.

Ernest Hemingway wrote about courage and endurance, then died by suicide.

Robin Williams made the world laugh while privately battling neurological illness and depression.

We hear stories like these and something inside us tightens.

"Hypocrite."

But pause.

What if we are asking the wrong question?

The Myth of Moral Immunity

Somewhere along the way, we adopted a dangerous belief:

If you teach it, you must have mastered it. If you write about it, you must live it flawlessly. If you inspire others, you must be immune to suffering.

But knowledge does not eliminate struggle.

Insight does not cancel biology. Wisdom does not override trauma. Leadership does not exempt you from the human condition.

The expectation that it should — is the pedestal problem.

Pedestals distort perception.

From below, we project perfection upward. From above, leaders feel pressure to perform invulnerability.

Both positions fracture nervous systems.

Because when exposure feels equal to annihilation, secrecy becomes survival.

And eventually — systems collapse.

The Political Arena Magnifies This

Nowhere is the pedestal problem more visible than in politics.

We elect leaders, then demand they embody ideological purity. We expect them to remain unchanged by power, uncorrupted by compromise, unmoved by fear or ego. We want them to represent our values flawlessly while navigating systems designed to fracture integrity.

And when they inevitably fall short — flip on a promise, contradict a principle, reveal hypocrisy — we feel personally betrayed.

But consider this: the political environment itself is a nervous system dysregulator.

Constant scrutiny. High stakes. Tribal pressure. Media distortion. Public judgment. No room for nuance. No tolerance for growth. Every decision dissected. Every contradiction weaponized.

This is not a defense of deception or corruption. It is recognition that we have built systems that punish humanity while demanding perfection.

The result? Leaders learn to hide. To perform certainty. To suppress doubt. To defend image over truth.

And voters swing between worship and rage — never allowing space for the complexity that leadership actually requires.

A regulated nervous system can hold paradox: "I disagree with this decision" and "I understand the pressure they are under." A dysregulated system collapses into binaries: hero or villain, savior or enemy, all good or all bad.

This pattern does not just destroy political leaders. It erodes our capacity for nuanced citizenship.

Scripture Never Supported the Pedestal

If perfection were required for impact, Scripture would be nearly empty.

Moses killed a man before leading a nation. King David committed adultery and orchestrated a death, yet is remembered as a king after God's own heart. Peter denied Jesus three times in fear before becoming foundational to the early church. Paul persecuted Christians before becoming one of Christianity's greatest messengers.

Scripture does not sanitize their failures. It documents them.

Because the story was never about flawless people. It was about transformation.

Brilliance and Brokenness Coexist

Visionaries build movements while privately wrestling with depression. Educators transform systems while navigating personal compromise. Comedians bring joy while fighting invisible battles. Politicians champion justice while struggling with ego.

This is not always hypocrisy.

Sometimes it is humanity.

We see this pattern everywhere — and still struggle to accept it.

But here's the nuance: There is a difference between imperfection and deception.

Imperfection is human. Deception is dangerous.

The collapse happens when leaders believe they must appear untouchable. When identity fuses with image.

A dysregulated nervous system will protect image before it protects truth.

That's when secrecy replaces growth.

The Neuroscience of the Pedestal

Your nervous system craves certainty.

Perfection feels safe.

If the leader is flawless, the structure is stable.

But humans are not stable systems. We are adaptive ones.

When someone you idolized reveals imperfection, it feels like betrayal — not necessarily because they failed, but because the illusion collapsed.

A regulated nervous system can hold paradox: "They are flawed" and "What they taught still holds truth."

A dysregulated system demands binaries: "Perfect" or "Fraud."

Emotional maturity requires the ability to hold complexity without collapsing into judgment.

And If We're Honest

We do this selectively.

The leader on "our side" gets grace, context, understanding. The leader on "the other side" gets judgment, cancellation, moral condemnation.

Same behavior. Different response.

That's not principle. That's tribalism dressed up as ethics.

A regulated nervous system can hold: "I disagree with their policies" AND "I see their humanity."

Can you?

Check: Think of a public figure you've canceled in the last year. Now think of someone on "your side" who did something similar. Did you apply the same standard? Or did you find reasons, context, nuance for one that you denied the other?

That's the pedestal at work. We build it for those who affirm us. We demolish it for those who don't.

Here's What Most Leaders Miss

In business. In education. In faith communities. In high-stress professions. In politics.

We must stop training leaders to perform perfection.

Performance is fragile.

Integration is sustainable.

And I say that as someone who is deeply imperfect.

I am not writing this from a pedestal.

I am writing this as a woman who has contradicted herself. Who has taught principles in front of hundreds while still learning to embody them at home. Who has had to confront ego, defensiveness, and fear in real time.

I remember standing backstage before a leadership training, my chest tight, my hands slightly shaking. I was about to teach nervous system regulation to a room of executives. And in that moment, my own nervous system was anything but regulated. I felt my jaw clench. The voice in my head said: "You're a fraud. You're about to teach something you're struggling with right now."

I had a choice. Perform invulnerability. Or admit humanity.

I walked out and told them the truth: "My nervous system is activated right now. Here's what I'm noticing. Here's what I'm doing about it."

The room softened. Not because I was perfect. Because I was present.

Every day I am doing my best to become the most aligned version of myself.

Not flawless.

Aligned.

Leading myself first.

Because I cannot teach leaders that authenticity, honesty, and vulnerability are strengths if I am unwilling to practice them privately.

Authenticity is not branding. It is nervous system regulation.

Vulnerability is not oversharing. It is regulated truth.

Honesty is alignment between what you say and who you are becoming.

If you have ever been to one of our MotivAction® events or leadership trainings, you already know this.

We do not teach from theory alone.

Real life is shared there. Real stories. Real challenges. Moments we have overcome — and moments we are still overcoming.

Even these weekly blog posts expose us.

We do not hide our fractures.

We work through them in real time.

Not to perform transparency — but to normalize growth.

Because the leaders who endure are not the ones without cracks.

They are the ones willing to look at them.

Admit weakness. Correct course. Seek accountability. Continue evolving.

The Bible calls it repentance.

Psychology calls it growth.

Leadership calls it credibility.

For the Leader Who Feels Disqualified

Maybe you've made mistakes.

Maybe you've taught something you are still learning to live.

Maybe you feel unworthy because you see your own contradictions.

History says: you are not alone.

Scripture says: you are not disqualified.

The standard was never perfection.

It was alignment. Honesty. Willingness to transform.

The work of leadership is not mastering others.

It is mastering your own reactions.

Catching ego. Repairing quickly. Staying teachable. Staying human.

The Real Question

The question is not: "Did they fail?"

The real question is:

Are we building cultures that allow leaders to be human — or are we demanding mythological performance until they break?

Because when we worship perfection, collapse is inevitable.

But when we normalize accountability, growth, and redemption — we create leaders who are strong enough to stay.

And that kind of leadership? It's learned, not inherited.

What Happens If We Keep Canceling

Because here's what happens when we keep demanding perfection: leaders stop being honest.

Not dramatically.

Quietly.

They learn to hide struggles. To perform strength. To suppress doubt. To edit their humanity until nothing real remains.

And the best leaders — the ones with actual integrity — they leave. Not because they failed. Because they refuse to pretend.

They look at the pedestal and realize: I can't sustain this. And I won't teach my team to try.

Cancel culture doesn't eliminate flawed leaders. It eliminates honest ones.

The performative stay. The authentic leave.

And we wonder why leadership feels so hollow.

If this resonates, it's because you feel the tension too.

You want to lead well. You want to grow. You don't want to pretend.

Neither do I.

That's why MotivAction® exists. We train leaders and teams to regulate under pressure, lead without masks, and build cultures where vulnerability becomes strength — not liability.

If you're ready to lead yourself first, we're here. Explore what that looks like at MotivAction.academy.