Hey Higher Ed Pro’s… Own Your Expertise (You’ve Earned It)

by Claire L. Brady, EdD

A note about this series: This is a multi-part series for higher ed pros who want to lead boldly (without turning into someone they’re not). Higher ed is full of brilliant, community-driven leaders who tiptoe through their careers using language designed to sound polite, careful, accurate, and pleasant. But here’s the truth: Language shapes perception—and perception shapes opportunity. Words can shrink your influence, or they can expand it. This series is for the quietly powerful humans who are ready to take up a little more space in their own stories—without losing their collaborative soul.

Because 20 years of doing something is, in fact, expertise.

I’m a collaborative human, a lifelong student affairs professional, and a Canadian who has spent half my life apologizing before I speak. I’ve also spent decades watching deeply capable people do something remarkably consistent:

They downplay their own expertise.

It shows up quietly and often politely. We soften our language. We hedge our statements. We lead with humility so thoroughly that our credibility never fully arrives in the room.

We start sentences with things like:

• “I’m not an expert, but…”

• “I’ve just been lucky to…”

• “I was asked to lead…”

And every time we do, we unintentionally undermine ourselves. Not because humility is a problem—but because minimizing language changes how our competence is perceived.

Here’s the reframe I want to offer: Expertise isn’t a feeling. It’s earned experience.

If you’ve done the work—over time, across roles, through complexity, missteps, learning curves, and outcomes—you don’t need to wait for permission to name that expertise. You’ve already earned it.

Why We Do This (Especially in Higher Ed)

Higher education, and student affairs in particular, socializes people to be careful. To share credit broadly. To avoid sounding bossy or self-promotional. To wait until someone else names our expertise for us.

That socialization is well-intentioned—and deeply cultural. But outside of supportive circles, it often backfires.

Screening committees, faculty panels, executive teams, and decision-makers don’t hear humility when we hedge. They hear uncertainty. They don’t fill in the gaps with generosity. They take our words at face value. And language, whether we like it or not, shapes authority.

Try This Language Instead

This isn’t about exaggeration. It’s about accuracy.

Consider swapping:

❌ “I’ve done some retention work.”
✅ “I’ve led retention initiatives across three institutions.”

❌ “I’ve been fortunate to work with…”
✅ “I partnered with…”

❌ “I care a lot about student success.”
✅ “My expertise centers on student success strategy and implementation.”

Notice what doesn’t change: your values, your collaboration, your humanity. What does change is clarity.

Action Steps: Claiming Your Space Without Losing Yourself

Start small and practical:

• Rewrite your bio using statements of fact. Begin with “I am” or “I specialize in.”

• Practice a strong panel or meeting introduction out loud—no qualifiers, no apologies.

• Ask a trusted colleague how they would describe your expertise. (It will almost certainly be stronger than what you wrote.)

• Retire the phrase “I’m not an expert…” permanently. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be in the room.

A Final Word

Owning what you know doesn’t erase anyone else’s wisdom. It doesn’t make you arrogant. And it doesn’t require you to become someone you’re not. It simply signals this: I’m ready to lead. And for many higher ed professionals, that’s not bravado. It’s long-overdue truth.

Image created using ChatGPT