Why Capable Women Still Apologise for Everything (And How to Stop)

I sent an email last Tuesday that started with “Sorry to bother you, but—”

I wasn’t sorry. I hadn’t bothered anyone. It was a completely reasonable question about a project timeline that was, objectively, overdue. But there I was, reflexively apologising for existing in someone’s inbox.

I caught it after I hit send (always after, never before), and spent the next ten minutes annoyed at myself, not because one apologetic email matters in the grand scheme of things. But because I’ve been working on this exact pattern for years, and apparently, my fingers still default to “sorry” when my brain isn’t paying attention.

Here’s the thing that nobody tells you about building authority as a woman in business (and yes, I am a man, but see the struggle): you don’t arrive at it one day and stay there. You cycle through the same lessons at different levels. You catch yourself sooner each time. You recover faster. But you still catch yourself.

And if you’re reading this thinking, “God, I do that too,” then welcome. You’re in excellent company. Let’s talk about why we do this to ourselves, and more importantly, how to stop.

The Apology Reflex (And Where It Comes From)

The pattern usually starts early. You learn that being liked matters. That fitting in gets rewarded. Challenging the status quo or speaking too directly can label you as difficult, aggressive, or abrasive.

So you adapt. You soften your language. You smile more. You make yourself smaller in a hundred tiny ways that you don’t even notice anymore.

And it works—until it doesn’t.

Until you realise that the very behaviours that helped you navigate early in your career are now holding you back.

Over-apologising makes people question whether you should be apologising at all. Over-explaining signals that you’re not confident in your own judgement. Waiting for validation before acting makes others wonder if you’re ready to lead.

The frustrating part? Men doing the exact same thing—stating opinions as facts, making decisions without checking in, taking up space without apology—get called confident. Decisive. Natural leaders.

You do it, and suddenly you’re pushy. Intimidating.

So you pull back. And that pullback becomes a habit. A reflexive dimming of your own authority to avoid the discomfort of being misread.

But here’s the reality: you can’t control how people interpret your confidence. You can only control whether you show up with it or not.

What Unnecessary Apologies Actually Signal

Let me be clear: apologising when you’ve actually done something wrong is appropriate. That’s not what we’re talking about here.

We’re talking about the reflexive “sorry” that appears before perfectly reasonable requests:

“Sorry to bother you, but could you send me that report?”
“Sorry, just following up on this…”
“Sorry, quick question…”
“Sorry for the delay” (when the delay is two hours and completely reasonable)

Every one of these apologies signals something you probably don’t intend to signal: that you’re not sure you have the right to ask. That you’re taking up space you shouldn’t be occupying. That you’re inconveniencing someone by doing your job.

And when you apologise unnecessarily, you train other people to see your presence, your questions, your needs as inconveniences too.

I learned this the hard way in a negotiation a few years ago. I was discussing rates with a potential client, and I heard myself say, “I hope this isn’t too much, but my rate for this kind of work is…”

I hope this isn’t too much.

I was literally apologising for my own pricing before I’d even stated it. And predictably, the client immediately tried to negotiate down, because I’d just told them I wasn’t confident in my own value.

The negotiation would have gone very differently if I’d said: “My rate for this scope of work is X.” Full stop. No apology. No hedging. Just clarity.

The Three Types of Unnecessary Apologies (And What to Say Instead)

If you start paying attention, you’ll notice that most unnecessary apologies fall into three categories:

1. The “Sorry for Existing” Apology

This is when you apologise for taking up space, asking questions, or generally being present.

Instead of:
“Sorry to bother you…”
“Sorry, quick question…”
“Sorry to interrupt…”

Try:
“Quick question for you…”
“I need some information on…”
“I have a question about…”

You’re not bothering anyone. You’re doing your job. Act like it.

2. The “Sorry for Being Human” Apology

This is when you apologise for normal human limitations like needing time to think, not being available 24/7, or having other commitments.

Instead of:
“Sorry for the delay…”
“Sorry I couldn’t get to this sooner…”
“Sorry, I can’t make that time work…”

Try:
“Thanks for your patience…”
“I’ve reviewed this and here’s my response…”
“That time doesn’t work for me. I’m available on…”

You’re allowed to have boundaries. You’re allowed to need time. Stop apologising for being human.

3. The “Sorry for Having Standards” Apology

This is when you apologise for setting boundaries, stating requirements, or holding people to agreed-upon standards.

Instead of:
“Sorry to be difficult, but…”
“Sorry if this seems picky, but…”
“Sorry, but I really need this by…”

Try:
“I need this by 2025 to keep us on track…”
“This needs to be [specific standard] to work…”
“Here’s what I need to move forward…”

Having standards isn’t difficult. It’s professional.

Why This Matters More Than You Think

You might be thinking, “It’s just a word. Does it really matter that much?”

Yes. It does.

Because every unnecessary apology is a small withdrawal from your authority account. One apology won’t bankrupt you. But hundreds of them, day after day, year after year? They compound.

They teach you that your presence requires justification. That your needs are burdens. That taking up space requires constant permission.

And they teach everyone around you the same thing.

I saw this play out with a client last year. Brilliant woman, incredible at her job, consistently undermined by her own language. She’d pitch ideas in meetings by saying, “This might be stupid, but what if we…”

It was never stupid. Her ideas were consistently the best in the room. But she’d pre-emptively labelled them as potentially worthless, so other people felt free to dismiss them without consideration.

After we worked on eliminating that phrase, something shifted. She started saying, “Here’s what I’m thinking…” and then stating her idea with confidence. No hedging. No apology.

People started listening differently. Not because her ideas got better—they were always good—but because she stopped giving everyone permission to dismiss them before she’d even finished speaking.

The Week-Long Challenge (That Actually Works)

Here’s what I want you to do for one week. Just seven days.

Pay attention to every time you say “sorry” or “just” or any other diminishing word. Don’t try to stop yourself yet. Just notice.

Keep a tally if you’re feeling masochistic. I did this once and stopped counting at 47 unnecessary apologies in one day. Forty-seven.

Once you’ve built awareness of the pattern, then you start redirecting it.

Every time you catch yourself about to apologise unnecessarily, pause. Literally pause for two seconds. Then rephrase without the apology.

It will feel weird at first. It will feel abrupt. You’ll worry that you’re being rude.

You’re not. You’re being clear.

And here’s what you’ll notice by the end of the week: people don’t react negatively to your lack of apology. Most of them don’t even notice. Because the apology was never necessary in the first place.

The only person who needed it was you. You needed it as a buffer between your presence and the world. As permission to take up space. As a way to soften yourself before anyone else could.

But you don’t need it anymore.

When the Pattern Runs Deeper

Sometimes the apology reflex isn’t just about language. It’s about a deeper pattern of seeking external validation before you act.

You know what you want to do, but you frame it as a question to test whether it’s acceptable.

You’ve already made a decision, but you present it tentatively to see if anyone objects.

You have expertise, but you defer to others in the room because surely they know better, even when they demonstrably don’t.

This is what I call the approval trap. And it’s insidious because it masquerades as collaboration, as being a team player, as being open to feedback.

But what is it actually? It’s outsourcing your authority to everyone around you.

I spent years doing this. Asking for input on decisions I’d already made, not because I needed the input, but because I needed the validation. Waiting for someone to tell me my instinct was right before I’d commit to it.

The shift happened when I realised that all this “collaboration” was actually slowing everything down and diluting my decision-making. People weren’t giving me better information. They were just confirming what I already knew, and I was wasting everyone’s time making them do it.

Now? I make the call. I state it clearly. I implement it. If it works, great. If it doesn’t, I adjust.

But I don’t spend my energy trying to get everyone to like the decision before I make it.

The Difference Between Apologising and Acknowledging

There’s a difference between unnecessary apologies and genuine acknowledgement.

If something’s actually late and it’s impacting someone else’s work, you can acknowledge that without grovelling:

Instead of:
“I’m so sorry this is late, I know I should have got it to you sooner, I feel terrible about it…”

Try:
“This is later than planned. Here’s what happened and here’s the new timeline.”

You’re acknowledging the impact without spiralling into apology theatrics.

If you’ve made a genuine mistake, own it cleanly:

Instead of:
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, this is completely my fault, I should have…”

Try:
“I made an error here. This is what I’m doing to fix it.”

Clean, direct, no dramatics.

The key is distinguishing between genuine accountability (which is professional and necessary) and performative apology (which is often about managing your own discomfort rather than actually addressing the issue).

What Changes When You Stop

When I finally broke this pattern—or at least significantly reduced it—something unexpected happened.

I didn’t become more difficult to work with. I became easier.

Because people knew where they stood with me. I was clearer. I was more direct. There was less guessing, less hedging, less dancing around what I actually meant.

Clients stopped pushing my boundaries because I’d stopped apologising for having them.

Collaborators stopped questioning my decisions because I’d stopped presenting them as questions.

And perhaps most importantly: I stopped exhausting myself with the constant internal negotiation of whether I had the right to take up space.

I just took up space. And it turned out the sky didn’t fall.

The irony is that I’d spent years worrying that being more direct would damage relationships. But the opposite happened. The relationships that mattered got stronger because they were built on clarity instead of constant accommodation.

And the relationships that couldn’t handle my directness? They fell away. Which, in retrospect, was exactly what needed to happen.

The Long Game

Breaking the apology reflex isn’t a one-time fix. It’s a pattern you’ll notice and redirect for a long time.

Some days you’ll catch it immediately. Other days, you’ll send the apologetic email and only notice it three hours later when you’re in the shower having imaginary arguments with yourself.

That’s normal. That’s progress.

The goal isn’t perfection. It’s building enough awareness that you catch it more often than you don’t. That you redirect it faster. That your default slowly shifts from apology to clarity.

And over time, something shifts in how you see yourself. You stop waiting for permission to have authority. You stop treating your presence as something that requires justification.

You just show up. You state what you need. You set your boundaries. You make your decisions.

And you do it all without apologising for taking up the space you’ve always deserved.

If this resonated with you, you might want to read The Unapologetic Woman: How to Lead Without Shrinking Yourself. It’s a complete guide to building internal authority, setting boundaries that actually hold, and leading from a place of clarity instead of constant approval-seeking. No corporate bollocks, just practical strategies for women who are done playing small.