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Why

  • Writer: Katherine Tatsuda
    Katherine Tatsuda
  • 2 days ago
  • 2 min read

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Simon Sinek wrote a book called Start With Why.

I haven’t read it.

But I’ve heard plenty about it over my years in leadership.

It’s the favorite leadership book of a few leaders I know.


The premise, as I understand it, is simple:

great organizations and great leaders don’t begin with what they do or how they do it.

They begin with why—the deeper purpose that fuels decisions, culture, and impact.

It’s a compelling idea.

A powerful one.

And I agree that understanding your “why” matters.


But I don’t think it deserves the number-one spot all by itself.

Leadership is an ecosystem—purpose, yes, but also integrity, consistency, empathy, accountability, humility, follow-through, self-awareness, repair, presence.

No single concept, not even a good one, carries the whole weight.


That isn’t why I’m talking about “why” today, though.


I’m talking about why because lately I’ve been having quiet conversations in my head with a specific person.

A person who values discourse and differing ideas.

A person who talks about being a good human, no matter what side of the aisle we stand on.

A person who, I truly believe, wants to be good—

and is good to many, many people.


And so the questions rise:

Why the disconnect?

Why the split between the public self and the private choices?

Why do your values hold so steady for the collective—yet falter with the ones who love you?


Why is protecting the idea of humanity easier than protecting the women who care for you?

Why does your compassion stretch so wide,

yet somehow miss the people standing right in front of you?


I don’t ask these questions to accuse.

I ask because I believe in the potential you spoke to me about so often.


Because why matters—not just in leadership or business, but in relationships, in character, in the quiet places where no one is watching.


And because sometimes the most important “why”

is the one we ask in the aftermath of someone’s choices—the one that lingers long after the speeches end,

and long after the selective goodness has faded.


Why?


I wish you would tell me.

I am wired to understand.

Katherine Tatsuda

Author | Poet | Human

Based in Ketchikan, Alaska

© 2025 Katherine Tatsuda | All Rights Reserved 

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