“It Is What It Is” and the Silencing of Workers

A while back, I made a leadership mistake.

I was leading a high-profile event at the White House that involved tight timelines, high-level officials, and even higher levels of stress. My team bristled as we were asked to make last-minute changes to the schedule.

I was frustrated, too–at them. Why are they worrying so much? I thought. We can’t fight the changes. Besides, it’ll all work out anyway. I didn’t say "It is what it is," but that’s exactly what I felt: Just accept it already and quit the huffing.

Here’s what I missed: Their concern wasn’t resistance; it was care. They wanted to get the event right and I failed to honor that. And this mistake is the same one we’re seeing everywhere now. Amid the rapid shifts and dislocation of the Trump administration, we’re bypassing real emotion. We need to, and we can, lead better.

A Shrug and a Hyperlink

"It is what it is" has long echoed through government workplaces. In my 16 years, I’ve heard it countless times in response to new priorities, budget cuts, new reporting requirements, or, more dramatically, after coups in the countries I covered at the State Department.

But in the last few months, it’s become an "Easy button" response to the whiplash facing federal workers:

• Excellent probationary employees fired en masse? "It is what it is."
• Gutting vital functions without explanation? "It is what it is."
• Return-to-office mandates focused on compliance, not collaboration? "It is what it is."
• Town halls that ignore pain and burnout? "It is what it is."

This matters, because every shrug sends a message: Your feelings don’t belong here.

When employees raise concerns, they’re often pointed to the Employee Assistance Program (EAP)—a government-wide mental health resource. There’s nothing wrong with EAPs in principle. But relying on them ignores our basic human need to be seen by those around us, including colleagues and managers: That’s hard. I can see why you’re so upset.

Instead, EAPs have become a substitute for this empathy—a hyperlink that ends the conversation, instead of an open door.

I’ve felt it firsthand. In the first few weeks of this administration, I posted in our office chat that I was struggling and open to talking if others were too. The response? A formal reprimand, and one that was reinforced in my performance review: I was overstepping my role. It wasn’t my job to care for others; that’s what the EAP is for.

That hurt. Not because of the ding to my rating, but something much more worrying: If empathy isn’t part of everyone’s job, what kind of workplace are we building?

Toxic Resilience

This dismissal of real feelings has a name: toxic resilience. It’s the expectation that you’ll swallow pain and immediately look on the bright side because you should feel lucky to have a job.

The State Department recently set a policy that classifies all kinds of workplace emotional strain as “ordinary tribulations”—just something to endure. The message is clear: Don’t expect empathy and don’t bring it up—unless you want to be seen as weak.

As if to prove the point, a friend told me the Deputy Secretary of State seemed baffled by low morale at a recent town hall. “It felt,” she said, “like an abuser telling the victim to get help.”

At my workplace, during Mental Health Awareness Month, we didn’t get any real acknowledgment of how hard the last four months have been. Instead we–I kid you not–got a link to a webinar about “How to Create a Positive Work Environment.” Meanwhile a colleague told me she was blankly told she needed to work on “assuming positive intent.”

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And it’s not just in government. Friends in tech, law, and finance tell me their workplaces offer meditation apps, fancy annual parties, cold-brew kegs, and good salaries—and expect stoicism in return. The message–especially aimed at women–is that if you’re struggling, you’re being too sensitive.

To paraphrase Britney Spears, Don't you know that you're toxic?

Professional Numbness

There’s an unspoken rule: Good employees keep quiet and get with the program.

Yes, adapting and letting go of what we can’t control is part of being a professional—and a well-adjusted human. But so is feeling the waves. Rushing to acceptance isn’t resilience. It’s numbness.

I know, because I spent 35 years of my life being numb. Pretending I didn’t care when a relationship ended, when I wasn’t offered the job, when a friend let me down. That wasn’t wisdom, it was denial.

Real resilience isn’t about speed. It’s about a process—acknowledging what’s hard and also that we need to figure out how to move forward.

So, What Do We Do Instead?

1. Validate the Care Behind the Concern. If someone is upset about a policy shift, try: “It sounds like you care deeply about what you’ve invested in that work. Is that right?” If they’re grieving layoffs, we can say, “I can feel how much you care about this team—that’s a value we need to hold onto.”
2. Be Present as a Leader and a Human. You aren’t a therapist—but you are part of your team’s support system. Even if it feels awkward, stay with the emotion, ask thoughtful questions, and, just as importantly, share what’s hard for you too. You might find that vulnerability brings you closer than steely courage. I sure have.
3. Find Your Discretion. Being a manager is hard but the good ones find ways to show care, even if the system doesn’t. Offer a private word of support. Check in a few days later. If someone loses their job, host a proper goodbye and go beyond “if you need a reference…” to share a few people they could reach out to.

It’s Never Just What It Is

Back to that first story: My mistake was forgetting that helping people feel seen and valued isn’t a side quest. It’s the job.

So the next time someone is processing change, and you feel that "It is what it is" eye roll coming on, pause.

It never just is what it is. We get to choose: dismiss or honor, invalidate or connect. In the federal workplace and beyond, it’s time to stop the shrug—and show up for each other.