Asher's Blog

There is a quiet prison that many ambitious people live in, and it is not built with iron bars or legal contracts, but with invisible expectations, subtle glances, and the unspoken question that echoes in our minds far too often: What will they think?

For a long time in my journey as a founder and leader, I did not realize how much of my emotional energy was being spent not on building, but on managing perception of those closest to me. 

I wanted investors to see brilliance, I wanted customers to see reliability, I wanted peers to see momentum, and I wanted my team to see certainty even when I was wrestling with ambiguity. None of these desires are inherently wrong, because leadership does require responsibility and credibility, but somewhere along the way, I began to understand that there is a dangerous line between responsibility and approval-seeking, and crossing that line quietly erodes your power.

The statement sounds bold, almost defiant, yet it is profoundly liberating: if you can avoid seeking the approval of others, then your power is limitless. Not because you become arrogant or detached, but because you become anchored.

There is research that supports this deeply and it was this research alongside counselling that brought me to the place of realisation. According to a study published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, individuals with a high “external locus of control” i.e. those who feel their worth and outcomes are largely dependent on external validation, report significantly higher levels of anxiety and lower long-term satisfaction. On the other hand, those with a strong internal locus of control consistently show higher resilience and better long-term performance. In business, resilience is not optional; it is oxygen.

I remember the early days of building in a competitive market, where every announcement felt like a verdict on our competence. When another startup raised a bigger round or made the headlines, there was a temptation to react quickly, to pivot not because strategy demanded it, but because optics did. The market can be loud, and noise can masquerade as wisdom. In those moments, I had to ask myself whether I was building based on conviction or performing for applause. This was pretty easy for me to define. But I didn’t realise that there were other people I trusted that I was seeking approval from. I was busy making excuses for these gaslighters and mediocre performers in my leadership team until I had the courage to confront them and make them look incompetent. 

One of the most striking examples of this tension can be related to the story of Oprah Winfrey. Early in her career at a Baltimore news station, she was told she was “unfit for television news” and demoted from her role as co-anchor. Many people would have internalized that as a final judgment, but instead of seeking to prove her critics wrong in their arena, she leaned into her authentic strengths, which eventually led to The Oprah Winfrey Show, one of the most influential programs in television history. She once said, “Be yourself; everyone else is already taken,” echoing Oscar Wilde’s famous line, and in that authenticity she found not just success, but scale.

Steve Jobs was forced out of Apple in 1985, and it was a public humiliation that could have permanently defined him. The narrative was clear: the board had lost confidence and Investors questioned his leadership. Yet instead of bending his identity to regain approval, he doubled down on his vision, building NeXT and acquiring Pixar, which later became a cultural powerhouse. When he returned to Apple in 1997, he did not come back as a man seeking validation, but as a leader anchored in conviction. That return reshaped not only Apple but entire industries, from music to mobile phones. Jobs famously said, “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.” That is not a poetic line; it is a conviction shaped by experience. But like Steve said, that time was devastating but getting fired was also the “best thing that happened to him”. 

The need for approval is deeply human, because we are wired for belonging. Social rejection activates the same neural pathways as physical pain, which explains why criticism can feel like a wound rather than a data point. However, there is a difference between learning from feedback and being enslaved by it. One sharpens you; the other shrinks you.

In my own leadership journey, especially when navigating complex corporate restructuring, investor conversations, or difficult personnel decisions, I have felt the weight of it. The truth is that when you are building something ambitious, especially across markets and legal systems, agreement is a luxury you will rarely have. There are moments when you have to make decisions that are misunderstood in the short term but necessary for survival in the long term. If your emotional stability depends on immediate applause, you will compromise on direction. I have been bitten once, so, never again. 

Move with Confidence

The world celebrates people who appear confident, but confidence is often misunderstood. True confidence is not loud; it is quiet alignment between your values and your actions. It is the ability to walk into a room where not everyone believes in you and still articulate your vision without flinching. It is the discipline to continue building when metrics dip and external validation disappears. It is choosing long-term impact over short-term applause.

There is also a practical dimension to this in business. McKinsey research on high-performing organizations consistently shows that companies led by founders or executives with a clear long-term orientation outperform peers over a decade-long horizon. Long-term orientation requires insulation from quarterly approval cycles, social media reactions, and competitor theatrics. When you detach your identity from external applause, you are free to optimize for durability, flexibility and sustainability rather than popularity.

In personal relationships, the same principle holds. I have experienced seasons where I overextended myself to maintain harmony, only to realize that suppressing honest conviction breeds quiet resentment. When you are constantly editing yourself to be acceptable, you eventually lose sight of who you are. Authentic connection requires authenticity, and authenticity sometimes requires discomfort.

When I reflect on the times I felt most powerful, it was not when applause was loud, but when conviction was clear. It was when decisions aligned with mission even if they were unpopular. It was when I could say no without fear and say yes without hesitation. It was when my identity was not on trial, even when my decisions are painful, I know that there must be greater goal. 

So perhaps the real work is not eliminating feedback, but redefining your worth. When your worth is internal and mission-driven, feedback becomes fuel rather than judgment. When your worth is external and applause-driven, feedback becomes a verdict.

If you can avoid seeking the approval of others, your power becomes limitless not because you control outcomes, but because you control alignment. And alignment, over time, compounds far more reliably than applause.

I wish you well.