What does assertiveness mean?
For most people, the answer comes quickly—speaking up, being confident, saying what needs to be said. It sounds straightforward enough in theory, and yet when the moment arrives, it often doesn’t feel that simple.
You might find yourself standing at a counter with something you bought that isn’t quite right. You’ve already rehearsed what you could say, and you know, logically, that returning it is reasonable. Still, something in you hesitates. Or you’re sitting in a restaurant and the meal arrives, not quite what you expected or not what was described. You notice it immediately, pause, and consider saying something… and then decide not to.
It’s not that you don’t know what to say. It’s that something shifts internally. The moment becomes uncomfortable, the path of least resistance appears, and without fully realising it, you move away from where you were standing.
These moments are easy to dismiss as minor, but they are clinically interesting because they point to something more significant than a simple communication issue. They mark the point at which a person loses connection with their own position under relational or emotional pressure.
Assertiveness is often framed as a communication skill—say it clearly, use the right words, be confident. But that framing only addresses what happens on the surface. It doesn’t explain why, in the moment, people so often struggle to follow through on what they already know.
A more useful way to think about assertiveness is this: it isn’t about being strong or standing your ground. It’s about knowing where you stand—and being able to stay there when it would be easier not to.
This shifts the focus away from performance and towards internal stability.
Most people already have a sense of what feels fair, what matters to them, and what doesn’t sit quite right. The difficulty is rarely a lack of clarity. It’s what happens when that clarity comes under pressure—when the desire to avoid conflict, concern about how one might be perceived, or a subtle internal discomfort begins to take over.
In those moments, behaviour tends to shift. A person might accommodate, withdraw, or, at times, come in more strongly than they intended. From the outside, it can look like a communication problem. Underneath, it is often a movement away from self.
The concept of differentiation helps make sense of this. It refers to the ability to stay connected to one’s own thinking and position while remaining in relationship with others, particularly when there is pressure. In everyday situations, this is where it becomes most visible. Returning an item isn’t really about the item, and mentioning a problem with a meal isn’t really about the food. Both are small examples of a larger question: can I stay with myself in this moment of discomfort?
When viewed this way, the question shifts. It is no longer simply “How do I say this better?” but rather, “What is pulling me away from myself here?” and “What would help me stay?”
This is where values become important. Not in an abstract or idealised sense, but in a practical one. In that moment—standing at the counter or sitting at the table—who do you want to be? Calm, respectful, clear, fair. Values do not remove discomfort, but they provide direction. They give a person something to stand on internally, even when the interaction feels uncertain.
Staying with yourself does not require force, nor does it mean creating conflict or getting everything exactly right. Often, it is expressed in very simple ways: “I think this might not be what I ordered,” or “I’m not sure this is quite right—would it be possible to change it?” or even “I’d like to return this, please.” The words themselves are not complicated. What matters is the ability to remain connected while saying them.
There is usually a brief moment in these interactions, just before a person softens their position, withdraws, or reacts. It is easy to miss, but it is where choice exists. If that moment can be recognised and held for just a little longer, something different becomes possible.
From this perspective, assertiveness is not a technique to be performed or a script to be followed. It is the quiet capacity to remain connected to oneself while staying in relationship with others, even when that becomes difficult.
References
Bowen, M. (1978). Family therapy in clinical practice. Jason Aronson.
Hayes, S. C., Strosahl, K. D., & Wilson, K. G. (1999). Acceptance and commitment therapy: An experiential approach to behavior change. Guilford Press.
Kerr, M. E., & Bowen, M. (1988). Family evaluation. Norton.