When to Say No: The Courage to Stand Apart

Every month, I host a Local Leadership Chat—a free, unscripted, and gently facilitated Zoom conversation for civic leaders from across the country. There are no panelists. No audience. No slide decks or presentations. Just real-time connection among people who know what it means to lead under pressure.

This isn’t a webinar. It’s a room where it happens. The value comes not from watching, but from being there—sharing stories, asking hard questions, and listening deeply. There’s no recording to share, no replay. Just a thoughtful summary afterward (like what follows), and the kind of insight that only emerges when leaders show up for each other.

The June Local Leadership Chat explored a theme that resonates deeply: The courage to stand apart. When is it right to say no? How do you do it in a way that’s principled, not performative? And how do you live with the fallout, especially when it’s personal?

A Council Member opened with a story of public pushback and private resolve. “I stood firm on a controversial issue, and it cost me—personally and politically. But backing down would’ve meant letting someone else dictate the decision. That wasn’t an option.”

A Mayor reflected on the emotional calculus of dissent: “I admire that kind of conviction. But when your no vote doesn’t change the outcome—and just makes you a target—what are you really accomplishing?”

A Council Member jumped in without missing a beat: “You’re showing the public that someone sees what they see. That someone is standing in it with them.”

That was the spirit of the entire conversation: respectful, candid, and deeply thoughtful.

A Council President shared advice passed down from a seasoned predecessor: “Never waste a no vote.” In other words, make it count—because if you say no to everything, people stop listening.

That idea got some pushback. “I get the logic,” one Council Member said, “but if something’s not right, I have to speak up. Even if the vote’s a done deal. That’s not a waste—it’s a responsibility.”

Several leaders shared stories of regrets—not over how they voted, but over the times they didn’t speak up. “It wasn’t a big issue,” one admitted, “but I let it pass, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

One Council Member described standing alone for nearly two years on a major public safety decision. “I wasn’t trying to be oppositional. I was trying to be responsible. I had to vote for what I believed in, even when it was just me.”

And yet, over time, that “no” found an audience. “The next election changed everything. People saw what I was standing for—and they responded. We have a more collaborative council now, and we’re making better decisions together.”

There were deeper layers too. A Pastor and Council Member reminded us that votes can be an expression of conscience as much as policy. “Every time I raise my hand, I try to do it prayerfully. I’ve taken oaths—to the public and to God—and I try to honor both.”

And there was plenty of humor along the way—like the Mayor who found her face in protest banners photoshopped into toilet bowls. “Public service is wild,” she said with a smile. “But what frustrates me most is how many people go quiet to avoid being targeted. I wish I could help them find their voice, too.”

By the end, the group hadn’t come to a single definition of what a “courageous no” looks like. But we had affirmed this:

• Saying no is hard—and often necessary.

• Being principled and being strategic can coexist.

• Even a lone vote can represent many unheard voices.

• Leadership isn’t about winning every vote. It’s about standing visibly for what matters.
  
  

That’s why I host these chats. Because sometimes, what local leaders need most isn’t a training or a talking point—it’s the chance to think out loud with people who get it.

So, no—there’s no recording. These conversations can only be experienced live. It’s about being in the room, sharing the moment, and walking away with new clarity and camaraderie.

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f you’re an elected, appointed, or staff leader in local government, I hope you’ll join us   for an upcoming session. You’re not alone—and you don’t have to carry the weight of leadership by yourself.