SHEJA Publishing House

ESSAY 02

The right not to fit the mould.

On the ways we see one another — and the space we each need

Jelica Stanojlović · SHEJA

"You're someone I can count on."

It is a lovely thing to hear. It speaks of trust, of shared experience, of a relationship that has proved dependable. And yet I find myself wondering: what happens when that trust becomes an expectation that someone will always be available, capable and reasonable?

When we hardly ask any more, because we think we already know their answer?

You're the strong one. You'll find a way. You don't need much. You can handle it.

Perhaps a woman recognises herself in those words. Perhaps she is proud of everything she has carried, the decisions she has made and the life she has built. And perhaps, at some point, she wants to say: yes, that is part of who I am. But it is far from the whole story.

That moment interests me. It brings a question into view that reaches well beyond any particular role: how much room do we leave for someone to show us a side of themselves we have not seen before?

When a familiar picture becomes too narrow

Leadership, responsibility and supporting others have been a substantial part of my life and work. That experience gives me a starting point for thinking about the pictures we form of one another.

We need those pictures. They help us make sense of experience and decide how to act. We learn whom we can trust with a task, who needs support and how to work well together.

Psychology, too, offers concepts that help us understand what we see. Recognising a recurring pattern of behaviour can be a relief. Something that once felt confusing begins to make sense.

But an explanation is still an explanation. It captures certain aspects of a person, at a particular time and under particular circumstances.

When we forget that, a useful observation becomes a fixed label.

A woman who has always taken on extra work is seen as easy to work with. The moment she sets a boundary, other people have to reconsider their picture of her. Perhaps they find her response difficult. Perhaps they wonder what has got into her. Less often, they ask: what have we been taking for granted?

That is where I want to look more closely.

Someone can be dependable and decline a task. They can take responsibility seriously and recognise that it needs to be shared differently. What seems new may be less a contradiction of the old picture than an expansion of it.

The right to be an exception

A philosophical chapter by Will Kidder, Jason D'Cruz and Kush R. Varshney explores empathy, artificial intelligence and the "right to be an exception".[1]

The authors consider how we can give due weight to a person's individuality, even when general rules or expectations point towards a particular judgement. In their account, human empathic understanding has a moral value of its own.

For me, this raises a question for any relationship in which we support or assess another person:

Can what you tell me about yourself actually change my understanding of you?

It is easy to say that we are open-minded. It is harder to let go of an explanation that makes sense to us. Especially when we have considerable experience and believe we can quickly recognise what is happening.

For me, then, the right not to fit the mould also places a responsibility on the person listening: to ask further questions, to listen carefully and to remain willing to reconsider their judgement.

Being allowed to be an exception means that the particulars of a person's life carry real weight. Their circumstances. Their reasons. What a decision means to them.

Dignity comes first

Here, this idea touches the heart of SHEJA: human dignity.

For me, dignity does not depend on how much someone achieves or how clearly they can express themselves. A person does not have to give a convincing account of their life to deserve our respect.

In a conversation about change, much is still taking shape. A woman may know very clearly that something no longer feels right, without yet knowing what she wants instead. She may be exhausted and full of ideas at the same time. She may love her work and question the way she is doing it.

Those tensions deserve attention. If we offer a solution too quickly, we may leave too little room to understand them.

For me, respecting someone's dignity means giving them that room. Their uncertainty does not diminish our regard for them. They are free to disagree. With us, too.

This includes looking carefully at their decisions. What consequences might they have? What responsibilities remain? What is actually possible? A respectful conversation can be uncomfortable. Respect for the person must hold throughout.

What this means for mentoring

There is a particular imbalance in a mentoring relationship. A woman comes with a question, a transition she is navigating or something she wants to work through. Her mentor brings experience, an outside perspective and professional insight. As a result, the mentor's words can carry considerable weight.

That makes me all the more careful about the interpretations I offer.

When I say, "This might be a recurring pattern," I want it to be an invitation to explore whether that is true. The woman sitting across from me must be able to say, "Some of that fits. But something important is missing."

And we need to be able to continue our work from there.

I am interested in questions such as: when does this behaviour show up? When are things different? What options did you have then? What options do you have now?

A pattern then has a context. We can understand what a behaviour once helped someone manage, what consequences it has today and where a different choice might become possible.

The mentor is responsible for the quality of the guidance she offers. The woman she supports retains her own voice. A sound relationship needs both.

For me, this also means knowing the limits of my work and recognising when another kind of professional support is needed.

Leadership needs this openness too

In leadership, we have to assess performance, allocate work and make decisions. Shared standards are essential.

Applying them, however, requires attention to the particular situation.

A colleague's silence does not tell us why she is quiet. An experienced leader's hesitation does not tell us whether she lacks clarity or sees consequences that others have overlooked.

Leaders need to exercise judgement. Good judgement includes a willingness to take in further information and revise an assessment.

Taking individuality seriously means examining differences carefully and explaining decisions in ways others can understand. That is demanding. It takes time, discernment and, sometimes, an admission that we were too quick to judge.

The pictures we carry of ourselves

So far, I have been talking about how others see us. But we carry these labels within ourselves as well.

I'm the one who keeps going. I don't need anyone. I mustn't let people down.

Some of these beliefs have a long history. They may be connected to abilities we are rightly proud of. They may also limit choices that are available to us today.

It is worth asking: what in this picture of myself still feels true? What did I learn in circumstances that have since changed? And what do I now want to do differently?

This calls for an honest relationship with our own history. We can acknowledge what has developed in us over time and still make a fresh choice.

You can keep a strength and change how you use it. You can care for others and protect your time. You can go far and pause along the way to ask whether the direction is still yours.

A conversation that leaves room for something new

For me, the quality of a mentoring relationship also becomes clear when a woman can say, "That's how you've understood me. But it isn't quite how I experience it."

There must be room for that sentence.

Perhaps we will then learn something that no prepared question or familiar model would have brought to light. Perhaps a decision will become possible because we have stopped assuming that it must follow from a role she has held until now.

I understand the right not to fit the mould as an ethical responsibility to pay attention. A person is entitled to change our picture of them. They are also entitled to reconsider their own picture of themselves.

For me, this is a very concrete form of respect: I listen in a way that allows what you say to make a difference to my understanding.

Which description of you is still true — yet leaves you too little room?

Jelica Stanojlović · SHEJA

Philosophical starting point

[1] Will Kidder, Jason D'Cruz and Kush R. Varshney, "Try to See Things from My Point of View: Empathy, AI, and the Right to Be an Exception", in Empathy and Artificial Intelligence, Cambridge University Press, 2026, pp. 23–29. About the chapter.

The discussion of this chapter draws on the publisher's publicly available summary. The reflections on mentoring, leadership and SHEJA are my own. In this essay, "right" refers to an ethical claim.