The quiet courage of conviction
Dear renegades, mavericks, and deviants,
The courage to act
You know that feeling in your chest when you finally see what needs to change, and you also know it won’t be easy?
Your breath shortens. Your chest tightens. Your skin prickles. The air feels sharper. Your body tries to stay still while your pulse quietly accelerates.
Even your senses seem to shift — sounds become clearer, movement more noticeable. It’s as if your whole body knows what’s coming before you do. The moment hangs there, heavy and electric, filled with both fear and possibility.
Thoughts rush in, fast and insistent, colliding until they form a single, unmistakable message.
It’s the moment before courage.
And it’s anything but calm. It’s alive with tension. It lives in that fragile space between conviction and hesitation. The space where clarity feels both liberating and terrifying.
And in our world, courage matters. In security, risk, and human behavior, it’s what separates those who make compliance look good on paper from those who create real, lasting change.
But the barriers to courage are real.
“My boss thinks this is just about better, more engaging education. How do I help them think differently?”
“How will I get access to the data I need?”
“How will I persuade the rest of the security team to see my role as more than training and comms?”
“What if the data shows that our KPIs aren’t all green?”
“I’m already swamped. How will I create the time and space I need to do this properly?”
“I’m doing okay and not at risk right now. Why put my head above the parapet?”
“My own professional understanding has evolved. I see more now than I used to. But how do I grow into that new perspective without creating friction or being told to stay in my lane?”
That last one might be the hardest because it’s about identity. Pointing at resources or time feels easier in comparison.
Growth can make you an outsider. Curiosity can read as ambition. Ambition can make others uncomfortable.
Still, growth is part of integrity. Seeing more, understanding more, yet staying silent is its own kind of decision.
I recently heard about Dr. Frances Kelsey.
In 1960, she joined the US Food and Drug Administration as a pharmacologist. One of her first tasks was to review an application for a drug already popular in Europe and hailed as a miracle treatment. The company wanted fast approval. The paperwork looked tidy. The pressure was immense.
But something didn’t sit right for Dr Kelsey. The data wasn’t conclusive.
So she said no.
Repeatedly.
For months.
Her refusal was unpopular. Some of her peers and leaders called her unreasonable. Politicians applied pressure. But she held her ground.
That drug was thalidomide. When signs of the drug’s harm came to light months later, everyone realised how her insistence on evidence had protected thousands of families.
At first her courage looked like defiance. In truth, it was the very essence of professionalism. Doing the right thing when it would have been easier (and far more comfortable for her) not to.
That’s what courage looks like for most of us.
Not grand gestures. Not speeches. Just the steady decision to act on what we know is right, even when it’s inconvenient or misunderstood.
For those of us working to change how organizations think about human risk, this kind of courage is essential. The truth is, the world doesn’t change because we wait for permission. It changes because someone decides to act on what they already know is true, to speak the truth before it’s fashionable, to use data before it’s demanded, to measure impact before it’s easy.
So here’s a principle worth remembering:
Clarity demands courage.
Once you see the truth, you can’t unsee it. And once you know what needs to change, your only real choice is whether to act on it.
If you feel that pull,that mix of conviction and fear, know this: you’re not alone. You’re part of a growing movement of professionals reimagining what security can be.
And maybe, like Dr. Kelsey, your courage won’t make headlines.
But it might quietly protect thousands.
If you ever want to talk about being part of something bigger, or if I can help, let me know: book some time with me.
I’m really happy to be a sounding board and share how others are navigating this.
— Oz A
