Shame & The Tall Poppy Syndrome

"What will they think?"

You've heard it. Maybe from your mother. A teacher. A partner. Sometimes, without realising, from yourself.

It's the quiet sentence that taught you to read the room before you read your own desire. To soften your edges. To not want too loudly.

In New Zealand, it has a second name: the Tall Poppy. The one that grows too high gets cut down — by a colleague's offhand comment, a friend's raised eyebrow, a culture that prefers you humble over visible.

You built a beautiful life. The career, the home, the reputation, the people who count on you. On paper, it's enviable. So why does part of you feel switched off? And why would you say it out loud — or even worse, want more?

Because shame and tall-poppy culture don't stop ambitious women from achieving. They stop us from being seen in our full size while we do it.

• Shame Was the First TeacherLong before you had words for it, you learned that wanting too much, shining too brightly, or asking for more was a kind of misbehaviour. "Stop it, people are looking at you." "Who do you think you are?" The lesson landed: putting yourself forward is dangerous. Decades later, that same lesson is the reason you over-prepare, over-deliver, and still feel like an imposter — or carry on numbed.
• The Tall Poppy Cut Is a Cultural ShameIn a place like New Zealand, ambition in a woman is often met with a particular kind of trimming. "She's gotten a bit big for her boots." "Bit much, isn't she." It's rarely loud. It's a tone, a silence, a joke at your expense. And because we're wired for belonging, we learn to pre-empt it — by playing smaller, downplaying wins, deflecting compliments, hiding the dream entirely. The poppy that bends doesn't get cut. But it also doesn't bloom.
• The "It Doesn't Matter" SabotageWatch what happens when you get close to something that would actually expand your life. The new venture. The bold pivot. The visible chapter. Suddenly it's not the right time, not that important, maybe later. That sudden disinterest is not laziness or indifference. It's a learned defence — abandoning the dream before someone else can shame you for having it.
• Be Ruthless About Whose Voice You Let InEarly-stage dreams are tender. Not every friend, family member or colleague has earned access to them. Choosing your counsel is not arrogance. It's protection. The women who fly past 40 do not have thicker skin. They have better filters.
• Don't Pick Up the First DoubtThe first doubt is like the first drink for someone who can't drink — it starts a chain. The chain ends with another year of staying small, putting others' requests first, and leaving that personal project on the back burner. Catch the doubt. Name the voice. Ask: Is this mine, or did I inherit it?
• The Antidote Is Visibility, on Your TermsThe cure for shame isn't louder confidence. It's self-acceptance — choosing yourself, in full size, before the room agrees. The poppy doesn't shrink to fit the field. The field eventually catches up.

You did not come this far to spend your second act apologising for your height.