Several years ago, I heard Brené Brown share a story about her son, who was struggling with friendship lessons. She encouraged him to surround himself with people who would celebrate him when he was shining brightly—not those who would blow out his candle to make theirs appear brighter. While I wouldn’t call myself a Brené Brown superfan, this particular wisdom stuck with me.
I shared this lesson with my students, many of whom would accuse a peer of cheating if they won or would downplay someone else’s accomplishments out of jealousy. I brought in candles, gathered my students in a circle, and taught the lesson. It resonated with them, just as it had with me.
I wanted my students to become humans who could celebrate others, not humans who insisted on being the brightest light in the room.
I share this story with you now because, as I’ve ventured into training, presenting, and advocacy, I’ve encountered plenty of “candle blower outers.” It’s happened to me directly, and I’ve watched it happen to others. In a world where so many are striving to be the best, to be the expert, some resort to blowing out others’ candles to elevate themselves. When it happened to me, I found myself doing a lot of processing—because I’m a work in progress. In my commitment to humility and reflection, I sometimes wonder if I unintentionally give others permission to underestimate me or dim my light. But here’s the thing: everyone who fancies themselves an expert learned from someone else. Pulling the ladder up behind you and criticizing from the top only shows that you still have learning to do. The need to be the loudest voice of authority in the room often says more about your own insecurities than it does about the person you’re trying to diminish.
This brings me to an important question: Was the feedback you gave necessary? And if it was, did you deliver it from a place of care or a place of ego? As educators, advocates, and humans, reflecting on how we communicate is essential. Every student is different. Every human is different. Believing you know everything isn’t just unrealistic—it’s problematic. It reflects a fixed mindset.

If your words or actions have caused harm in the name of expertise, it’s worth asking yourself: Have I subconsciously or consciously blown out someone else’s candle to make mine shine brighter? If so, you may have unintentionally become an obstacle to growth, shutting down the very willingness to change you hoped to inspire. We cannot demand perfection over effort and growth. True progress comes from nurturing others, fostering curiosity, and creating spaces where learning and transformation are possible—not from tearing others down.
So, what do we do with this? We recognize that our candles burn brighter when we light others’ candles, too.
The act of lifting someone else up does not diminish our own value—it amplifies it. In education, advocacy, or any field where human connection matters, the most powerful leaders and educators are those who empower others to shine alongside them.
Let’s commit to being the kind of people who celebrate others’ successes, who give feedback from a place of care and curiosity rather than ego, and who reflect on our own growth as much as we ask others to reflect on theirs. Because in the end, the goal isn’t to be the brightest candle in the room—it’s to create a space so full of light that everyone can thrive.

