by Dr. Kevin Dean, President & CEO, Tennessee Nonprofit Network
There’s a certain quiet amusement that can come with realizing you’ve built a career on the foundation of being consistently underestimated. It’s not a path I consciously chose, mind you. In fact, for a long time, it was a source of significant insecurity. But as the years have rolled on, and the “surprised Pikachu” faces have become a familiar sight, I’ve come to embrace the peculiar power of being the person have often thought was “just the intern.”
I’ve never been the picture of poised authority. I’ve always looked younger than my years, a fact that’s led to countless moments of mistaken identity. My speaking style is “enthusiastic” – which is a polite way of saying I often trip over my own words, veer off on tangents, and generally sound like I’m narrating a particularly chaotic internal monologue. I’m diagnosed ADHD so my brain works a little differently, and sometimes that shows up in meandering sentences or jarring sentence fragments that don’t completely communicate what I’m trying to say. And then there’s my tendency to be, well, overly forthcoming. I believe in transparency, in open communication, which is often mistaken for naivete. To add to the confusion, I’m a classic extroverted introvert. I thrive in social settings, genuinely enjoy connecting with people, and find energy in collaborative environments. Yet, I also possess a deep-seated shyness, a tendency to be standoffish at first, especially in unfamiliar situations. This paradoxical nature often leaves people scratching their heads, unsure of how to categorize me. My politeness and kindness? Apparently, those are just red flags for weakness. I’ve learned that a lot of people equate assertive (read: aggressive) behavior with competence, and anything less is seen as a sign of being easily manipulated. It’s a strange paradox, but I’ve learned to navigate it and actually enjoy it.
The most vivid example, the one that still makes me chuckle (albeit with a touch of exasperation), happened when I took on the role of Executive Director at my previous nonprofit organization. I walked in, eager to make a difference, and was immediately greeted with warm smiles and offers of help from volunteers and clients. Most people, I found out later, thought I was an intern, and they couldn’t figure out why they hadn’t met the new director yet. I’d smile back, not wanting to interrupt the flow, assuming the introduction would come in time.
It didn’t.
For weeks, I was the “friendly intern.” I gathered feedback from volunteers and clients, asked about their experiences, and made sure everyone felt welcome. Then, one day, a key volunteer, a gentleman with a booming voice and a penchant for pronouncements, discovered the truth. He’d been chatting with the board chair and casually mentioned the “nice young intern” who was so helpful. The board chair, bless his soul, had to break the news: “That’s not an intern, that’s our new Executive Director.”
The reaction was memorable. A flurry of phone calls, a flurry of raised eyebrows, and then, the inevitable complaint. “They hired a baby to run this nonprofit organization!” he had told the board chair. “This is a mistake!”
It wasn’t the only instance of doubt. Far from it. Now, you might think these experiences would have crushed me. You might expect me to retreat, to shrink into myself, to question my own abilities. But something strange happened. Instead of feeling defeated, I felt… energized. Fueled. The doubt, the condescension, the outright insults – they became a kind of perverse motivation.
I realized that being underestimated gave me a unique advantage. It allowed me to operate under the radar, to work quietly and diligently, without the pressure of constant scrutiny. I could experiment, take risks, and learn from my mistakes without the fear of public humiliation.
I used to be incredibly self-conscious about being undervalued. I’d spend hours replaying conversations, wondering what I could have said or done differently. I’d try to project an image of confidence, to compensate for my perceived shortcomings. But the truth is, it was exhausting. And it wasn’t authentic.
Over time, I learned to embrace my authentic self. I stopped trying to be someone I wasn’t. I focused on my strengths, on what I did well. And I discovered that my perceived weaknesses were actually my superpowers.
There’s something else people often don’t see, something that fuels my resilience and shapes my perspective. I had a tough childhood (thank God for my wonderful parents!), a crucible that forged a deep sense of resilience within me. I was bullied in my youth, and that experience instilled in me a fierce determination to stand up for myself and others when I sense injustice. I may not always articulate myself in the most polished or formal manner (when I speak, at least), but I am smart, practical, and possess a keen analytical mind. My sincere concern for others, though sometimes hidden beneath my introverted exterior, allows me to connect deeply with people once they recognize my genuine interest in their lives. And, though I avoid the messy world of formal politics as best I can, I possess a sharp political savvy, an ability to navigate complex social dynamics and build strategic alliances. These hidden dimensions of my character, these unseen layers, contribute to my ability to thrive in the face of underestimation.
And then there’s the complex intersection of ageism, sexism, and other biases. So many of us have encountered them all, sometimes subtly, sometimes blatantly. It’s tiresome, it’s infuriating, and it can be deeply hurtful. But within those moments of frustration lies a hidden opportunity. Because when someone dismisses you based on your age, your gender, your race, or any other arbitrary characteristic, they are, in essence, underestimating you. They are failing to see the full scope of your abilities, your experiences, and your potential. And that, my friends, can be a very good thing.
It’s a reminder that the world is full of people who make snap judgments, who rely on stereotypes and preconceived notions. It’s a reminder that you can’t control how others perceive you, but you can control how you respond. You can choose to let their biases define you, or you can choose to rise above them. You can choose to prove them wrong.
My youthful appearance? It allowed me to connect with people from all walks of life, to build rapport and trust. My “enthusiastic” speaking style? It conveyed my passion and genuine excitement for the work. My tendency to be forthcoming? It fostered open and honest communication, building strong relationships with staff, volunteers, and clients. My kindness and politeness? They created a positive and supportive environment, where people felt valued and respected. My extroverted introvert nature? It allowed me to connect deeply with others, while also having the ability to recharge and think strategically in solitude.
Being underestimated became my cloak of invisibility. It allowed me to move freely, to build alliances, and to achieve my goals without attracting unnecessary attention. I learned to let my actions speak louder than words. I focused on delivering results, on making a real impact.
And when the results started to speak for themselves, the doubters were silenced. The “baby” became a respected leader. The “idiot” became a visionary. The “intern” became a force to be reckoned with.
I’ve learned that being underestimated isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s a strategic advantage. It allows you to surprise people, to exceed expectations, and to achieve things that others thought were impossible. It’s a reminder that true strength lies not in bravado or aggression, but in quiet determination and unwavering belief in oneself. This has been a hard lesson to learn over the years. I’m sharing this with you because I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re inadequate, not enough, or incapable because of what other people’s random perceptions of you are. The only thing that matters is your work and your impact. Don’t give up because other people don’t believe in you. Let other people’s underestimation fuel you. Don’t let their opinions about anything other than your work and your impact hold you back. Let your work speak for itself, and smile when they realize they underestimated you.
In saying this, though, be able to distinguish between “noise” and constructive feedback. Listen when people with lived experience provide you with good feedback. Learn to discern between pointless criticism and valuable lessons for improvement. Never stop professionally developing yourself. Never believe that you have “arrived.”
So, the next time someone underestimates you, smile. They’re about to learn a valuable lesson. They’re about to witness the unexpected alchemy of underestimation, the transformation of perceived weakness into undeniable strength. And they’re about to discover that the most unexpected voices often have the most powerful stories to tell.