A Leadership Reflection on Humanity, Trust, and the Courage to Be Seen

A Sunday Worth Remembering

It was a chill Sunday, 17 August 2025. I would rate it an 8.5 out of 10. Not because everything was perfect, but because everything felt whole.

For once, the entire family sat together for a movie. That itself was rare. Usually it was me and the kids, while my wife would excuse herself. Or sometimes she joined, but the children would quickly lose interest. But this time was different. Superman 2025 captured us all. My baby girl Arielle slept peacefully after her milk. My wife leaned in. My children followed every scene. And I, for the first time in a while, felt the strange contentment of family alignment.

Near the end, Superman said something that pierced me. It was David Corenswet’s Superman speaking, but it felt like a mirror held up to life.

“I am as human as anybody. There’s always been something wrong about me. I love. I get scared. But that’s being human. And that’s my greatest strength. Someday, I hope, for the sake of the world, you understand that it’s yours too.”

In that moment, I realised again what I have always believed: vulnerability is a superpower.

Superman’s Greatest Strength: Being Human

Superman has always been portrayed as invincible. The center of the universe. Strong, untouchable, almighty. But this story arc was different. Here was a Superman more human than most humans. He admitted fear. He confessed weakness. And yet, that became his strength.

Brené Brown once said in Daring Greatly that “vulnerability is not weakness. It is our most accurate measure of courage.” Watching Superman echo that truth on screen, I found myself nodding. I too have always carried this conviction.

Ever since I was young, I have been comfortable with failure. Comfortable with being the underdog. I saw myself as “a nobody.” I could not join social circles easily. I could not afford classes. I could not make it on my own without my parents’ support. And yet, strangely, that gave me peace. Every achievement, no matter how small, felt like a blessing.

To me, being human means fragile, imperfect, dependent, those traits have always been my superpower.

When Failure Becomes a Blessing

My parents worked hard to put me in the “first class” of primary school. But I never saw myself as the smartest or the most confident. I was painfully aware of my limitations. I often thought I was the least deserving one in the room. And yet, this sense of unworthiness became a gift.

It taught me empathy. It taught me gratitude. It gave me the courage to embrace failure not as an enemy, but as a teacher.

Jim Collins, in Good to Great, describes Level 5 leaders as those who combine personal humility with professional will. Vulnerability, I have come to see, is humility in action. It makes you teachable. It frees you from the poison of entitlement.

What I thought was my greatest weakness, i.e. failure, was actually the foundation of my strength.

Trust, Betrayal, and Calculated Risk

A few days before watching Superman, I sat with an independent director of a public-listed company. Our conversation drifted to leadership. She said, almost casually, “In a company, there are no true friends.”

I told her I beg to differ. Even if betrayal is inevitable, I still exist to serve people. If I must be stabbed, then so be it. My purpose is not to protect myself but to build others.

At the same time, I acknowledged her perspective. When a company is small, speed matters most. But when a company scales, as Stellar must, to care for over a thousand families, stability becomes critical. Decisions must be right, not just fast.

Here lies the paradox: how do we remain vulnerable, yet still safeguard stability and compliance?

Patrick Lencioni, in The Five Dysfunctions of a Team, warns that trust is the foundation of teamwork, but trust must be built on vulnerability. Yet too much unguarded openness can leave a company exposed. Leadership, then, is about calculated risk.

I told her, “I am willing to take calculated risks. I know betrayal will come. But if I want to build people, I must accept that cost.”

Mentors Who Showed the Way

I once asked my mentor, Dato’ Peter, the founder of UCSI, how he could be so open with people. For decades, he has allowed young men into his home, his life, his space. Had he ever been betrayed?

He laughed and said, “Of course.” He had experienced betrayal many times. But his posture never changed. He never spoke ill of anyone. He only gave warnings if I needed to be cautious. Otherwise, he chose intentional silence, never victimhood.

To me, that is prophetic leadership. Leadership rooted in higher purpose.

He pointed me to Jesus, the greatest teacher of all. Jesus knew Judas would betray him, yet on the night before his crucifixion, he shared a meal with him. He even washed Judas’ feet. Vulnerability, in its purest form, is not ignorance of betrayal. It is choosing love in spite of it.

John C. Maxwell calls this the Law of Solid Ground: trust is the foundation of leadership. Vulnerability is the soil from which trust grows.

Parenting as Daily Proof of Humanity

This truth plays out in my parenting. My son Aden often calls me out. One Sunday morning, as I was feeding the baby, I asked him to fetch me water. Instead of bringing a glass, he refilled my entire large water bottle. I grew impatient, wondering why it was taking so long. I scolded him, only to realise he was doing exactly what I asked, only better.

I had misunderstood him again.

So I apologised. I told him, “See, Aden, this is proof I am not holy. I make mistakes all the time. But the right thing is to admit my mistakes.”

Children do not learn humility from sermons. They learn it from watching their parents say, “I’m sorry.” Vulnerability, in that moment, became the bridge of trust between us.

Perfection vs. Humanity in the Age of AI

We live in an era obsessed with perfection. Artificial intelligence produces flawless grammar, accurate data, precise calculations. Mistakes are minimised. Errors are unforgivable. Expectations rise higher each day.

But what about humanity? We are not built to be perfect. We are built to be vulnerable.

If AI is the pursuit of flawless output, then humans are the reminder that imperfection is what makes connection possible. As Superman said, “I get scared. And that’s my greatest strength.”

Simon Sinek reminds us in Start With Why: purpose, not perfection, is what sustains impact. AI can calculate, but it cannot care. Vulnerability is what makes us human.

Purpose: The Anchor of Vulnerability

Without purpose, vulnerability becomes recklessness. With purpose, it becomes legacy.

Jeff Bezos’ Regret Minimization Framework shows this well. Leaving Wall Street for Amazon was not driven by blind courage but by clarity of values. He asked, “At 80, will I regret not trying?” Vulnerability became the pathway to purpose.

At Stellar, we carry a similar framework: SPARK–SHAPE–STRENGTHEN–SEND. Vulnerability is the spark. It begins with people who are faithful, available, teachable, humble. Vulnerability shapes culture before strategy, identity before position. It strengthens leaders from the inside out. And in the end, it sends them to multiply impact.

Vulnerability is not the end. It is the beginning.

A Day That Holds It All

That Sunday, life gave me little reminders of this truth. Morning with my family. Afternoon tea at Tree House with friends who needed companionship. Watching my four-year-old Evan try roller skating for the first time. Even pausing this reflection to help a neighbour who fell when her dog dashed out.

Life is imperfect. Plans derail. People disappoint. Yet, in all this, being human is not about control. It is about presence.

And presence requires vulnerability.

Kryptonite: What Is Yours?

Superman’s humanity was his strength, but he also had a weakness. Kryptonite. The very thing that could undo him.

We each carry our own kryptonite. For some, it is fear. For others, it is a limiting belief. It may be procrastination, pride, or a victim mindset. And sometimes, it is simply the crushing urgency to be perfect.

The lesson is not to deny kryptonite, but to acknowledge it. To name it. To face it. Because only then can we stop it from quietly draining us.

The Reverse That Redefines It All

We often think the opposite of strength is weakness. But it is not. The opposite of strength is self-preservation.

Self-preservation builds walls. Vulnerability builds trust. And trust builds legacy.

Superman was right. “I get scared. And that’s my greatest strength.”

So do I. And so must we.

Because in the end, it is not our perfection that changes the world. It is our humanity.

And perhaps the real question is this: what is your kryptonite, and will you dare to face it before it quietly rules you?