Organizations are competing. People are solving from different assumptions under different pressures with different information. In moments of stress, misalignment reads as friction. In moments of genuine uncertainty, friction reads as threat. The VP+ leader who expects smooth running will be perpetually disappointed — and perpetually unprepared.
Adversity ranges widely. On one end, a colleague who misreads your intent in a high-stakes meeting. On the other, an organization facing existential pressure where everyone is looking for ground. What these share is this: they make you feel unmoored, and they do so for real reasons. This is not about false perception. The situation is genuinely difficult. The question is not whether it will arrive. It is whether you have what you need to hold your footing when it does.
Many senior women look at an adverse environment and assume the next place will be better. Sometimes it is — in specific ways. But adversity at this altitude follows the role, not the company. The organization that has no friction, no politics, no pressure is the organization that has no stakes. Learning to operate effectively inside adversity is not optional for VP+ leaders. It is the job.
The same adverse condition will land entirely differently depending on the inner posture you bring to it. Two leaders facing identical circumstances can produce entirely different outcomes — not because one has more information or authority, but because one has a relationship with adversity that allows her to engage rather than absorb it.
The critical step is to assess the situation accurately. Three questions do the work: What is actually driving this? What part of it is within my influence? What does this situation need from me right now? These are not passive questions. They are an active reorientation — from receiving adversity as something happening to you, to engaging it as something you are a participant in shaping.
Your contribution to the solution may not resolve everything. But it should break the feeling of being stuck and help things move forward. And in many cases, the most impactful moves are quieter than they appear: listening with full attention, assuming good intent rather than bad, asking the question that redirects energy from grievance toward resolution. Those are acts of agency. They shift the dynamic. And they are available to you at any moment, regardless of your formal authority in the situation.
One more dimension of agency worth naming: you are not only a receiver of adversity. At VP+ level, you are also a potential source of it. A leader who transmits stress into the team, who escalates friction between peers rather than containing it, who allows unresolved tension to sit in the air of every interaction — is generating the very conditions this dimension asks you to navigate. Operating in service of others means doing the work to ensure you are not the cause. And when you and a peer are the source of friction between your teams, the answer is not to manage around it. Get in a room and resolve it. That is operating at the right altitude.
Adversity produces emotion. That is not a weakness — it is information. The question is not whether to feel it but what to do with it once you do.
Jesus provides two distinct templates, and both are needed.
At the tomb of Lazarus, he wept (John 11:35). He did not suppress the grief in service of the miracle that was coming. He felt it fully, in real time, in front of the people around him. The weeping did not delay the resurrection. It preceded it. There are moments when the right thing to do with what you feel is to pass through it honestly — to grieve the loss, absorb the disappointment, sit with the difficulty — before you act. Rushing past that step does not make you stronger. It just means the emotion finds another exit.
In the temple, the response was different (Matthew 21:12–13). The anger was not vented. It was not processed into conversation. It was read as a signal — this is wrong, and I am the one here to correct it — and it produced immediate, purposeful action. The emotion was the diagnostic. The action was the response.
Together they give you the two-move framework. Feel it, read it. Then ask: is this a grief to pass through before acting — or a signal that something requires action right now? Both are legitimate. Both produce something useful. What produces nothing useful — and frequently produces harm — is the third option: discharge. Discharge is emotion expressed without purpose. It is the venting session that replays the story without moving it forward, the retelling that recruits others into your frustration, the energy spent relitigating what was said and who was wrong. Discharge feels like processing. It is not. It keeps you in the feeling without extracting the information from it.
The practical check: after expressing what you feel, are you clearer about what to do next — or are you in the same place, just louder? Clarity is the sign that the emotion served its purpose. Continued noise is the sign it is still looking for an exit.
Beyond navigating adversity in the moment, there is a higher expression of agency: identifying the friction that is not necessary and removing it from the system.
Some organizational adversity is unavoidable — the kind that comes from genuine complexity, competing priorities, and the reality of operating at scale. But some is structural and preventable. The number that generates a debate in every leadership meeting because no one has agreed on a single source. The firefighting at month-end close that happens identically every cycle. The miscommunication between two functions that has been managed around for years without ever being formally addressed.
Agency in these situations is not about surviving them. It is about seeing them clearly enough to propose the fix. Use the credibility and organizational knowledge you have built to short-circuit unnecessary adversity at its root. Bring the process change. Convene the conversation. Name the pattern and offer a path out. This is a contribution that operates above the noise of any individual situation — and it is one of the most visible expressions of leadership that this dimension makes possible.
Not all adversity is formative. Some environments are genuinely toxic — systematically eroding who you are, requiring you to compromise what you cannot compromise, asking you to become smaller in ways that do not serve the organization or you. The exit clause from Identity beyond Role applies here too: when the environment is working against your God-given identity at a fundamental level, leaving is not failure. It is clarity.
The distinction worth holding: adversity that is primarily driven by perception and interpretation — the difficult colleague, the frustrating mandate, the political friction that comes with every complex organization — is not sufficient grounds for exit. That kind is the kind you are meant to grow through. The question to sit with is whether the hardship is shaping you or diminishing you. Formation is uncomfortable. Erosion is different.
Agency under Adversity is the forge of the inner profile. It is not the beginning, and it is not the foundation. It is the place where everything else is tested — where the other dimensions are either confirmed under real pressure or refined into something stronger. You do not become who you were made to be in the easy seasons. The ember metaphor finds its fullest expression here: what remains after the fire has done its work.