09/04/2026
We teach children to apologise when they hurt someone. Why do we accept less from people in power?
When a child hurts another child, we don’t debate it. We don’t hide behind policy, we don’t say “it was technically allowed”, we don’t stay silent. We stop, we acknowledge what happened, we guide them to understand the impact, we expect them to say sorry, not because it fixes everything, but because it matters. Because the other child matters, because harm matters, because learning accountability matters.
And yet somehow, somewhere along the way, we stop expecting this of adults. Not just any adults, adults in positions of power. Leaders, decision-makers, people entrusted with other people’s livelihoods, wellbeing, and dignity. People whose decisions don’t just affect a moment, but ripple through lives, homes, and families.
I have watched someone I love be deeply affected by a workplace decision. Not just disappointed, not just inconvenienced, but changed. I have watched their sleep disappear, their confidence unravel, their presence with family fade, their sense of self become uncertain. And I have watched the quiet ways this spreads into conversations that don’t quite land, into moments where they are there but not really there, into a home that feels the weight of something that can’t easily be named.
And what has been hardest is not just the harm itself. It’s everything that comes after. Being told to reach out, to report, to follow process, only to receive vague responses, “we can’t assist with this”, “this isn’t within our scope”, or worse, no response at all. Each time leaving you wondering why you bothered, why you tried to do the right thing, why speaking up seems to lead nowhere.
We are told this is how systems work. That organisations manage risk, not people, that apologies imply liability, that outcomes are handled institutionally, not personally. That once something is “within process”, it no longer needs to be human.
But I keep coming back to the same question, when did we decide that being legally protected was more important than being human?
Because what I see doesn’t align with what we teach our children. We teach them your actions affect others, you take responsibility, you acknowledge harm, you try to make it right, even when it’s uncomfortable. We don’t teach them to pass responsibility along, we don’t teach them that silence is acceptable when someone is hurting.
And yet organisations, built entirely of people, seem to forget this. Every organisation is made up of human beings, people who go home at the end of the day, people who have families, partners, children, friends, people who are loved. And when one of those people is harmed, mentally, emotionally, or physically, it doesn’t stop at the workplace. It carries into homes, into relationships, into families who feel the impact just as deeply.
And still, those same organisations rely on people to perform, to care, to deliver, while at the same time treating them as if they are replaceable, interchangeable, or insignificant when it suits the organisation to do so.
Harm can occur, lives can be disrupted, families can feel the impact, and yet the response is often nothing visible, nothing human, nothing that says “we see this, and it matters.”
And that’s the part that feels hardest to accept. Not because I expect perfection, not because I think everything can be fixed, but because acknowledgment costs nothing, and means everything. It doesn’t undo what’s been done, but it restores something essential, humanity, dignity, connection.
This isn’t about blame for the sake of it. It’s about something much simpler. If we expect children, still learning and growing, to recognise the impact of their actions, why do we accept less from those in positions of power?
Because just because something is legal, doesn’t make it right. Just because something is common, doesn’t mean it should be. And just because harm is absorbed by a system, doesn’t mean the people within it should be untouched by it.
We can do better than this, not through punishment, not through outrage, but through something far more basic, awareness, responsibility, humanity.
Because behind every process is a person, behind every decision is a life it touches, and behind that life is a family who feels it too.
And they matter.
If you’ve experienced something like this, you’re not alone.
✌🏼❤️🙏🏽 Aj
