There is no concept of justice in Cree culture. The nearest word is kintohpatatin, which loosely translates to “you’ve been listened to.” But kintohpatatin is richer than justice – really it means you’ve been listened to by someone compassionate and fair, and your needs will be taken seriously. – Edmund Metatawabin

I first heard the word kintohpatatin while watching an episode of Allegiance — that Canadian restorative justice drama. In the Season 1, Episode 7 episode titled “The Legacy”.  Sabrina and her partner Vince work to help a young Indigenous woman whose baby is taken, culminating in an emotional climax that highlights restorative justice, a key theme often described as kintohpatatin. 

And then, as if the universe wanted to underline the moment, I ended up reading the MIT Sloan Management Review article Julie Winkle Giulioni recommended on her LinkedIn page – Your People Are Not All Right by Melissa Swift. It is a clean, unvarnished look at what leaders are already sensing even if they’re not saying it out loud:

People are unraveling under the weight of uncertainty. Not theoretically. Not in a “wellness trend” kind of way. In the way someone’s eyes dim halfway through a meeting. In the way shoulders remain tense long after the call ends. In the way seventy-three percent of employees now say their mental health is affecting their performance. It isn’t a workplace insight; it’s a human one.

So there I was, holding this Cree concept — “you have been listened to, and your needs will be taken seriously” — in one hand, and this global emotional unraveling in the other, trying to understand why the two felt connected.

Maybe because the workplace has turned into a place where people are expected to appear “functional” while privately absorbing a level of uncertainty their nervous systems cannot metabolize. Maybe because listening — real listening — has become a rare commodity, replaced by efficiency, urgency, and the never-ending push to keep moving.

Everywhere I turn, people are performing competence while carrying their own private storms. The sudden withdrawal or the tears that slip out at the least convenient moment. It’s happened to me and I was cautioned by my then General Manager, never to be seen crying on the job. It was not a good look for the Sales Manager of the company.

We’ve normalized a kind of polite blindness. Call it misalignment, call it performance issues, call it “soft skills”… anything other than the truth: people are carrying too much.

Swift talks about decluttering — the meetings, the workloads, the relentless change — and she’s not wrong. The clutter suffocates. But it’s still surface-level if no one feels seen. You can strip meetings from calendars, streamline processes, redesign systems… and still have a team drowning quietly because no one created the space where truth could land without ricochet.

And that’s where kintohpatatin makes sense for me. Not as a cultural artifact to admire from a distance, but as a practical correction to how leaders relate. It isn’t “active listening” with the corporate sheen. It’s older, deeper, less performative. A way of being with someone that allows their breath to settle. A recognition that listening is not a nicety — it’s a stabilizer. Especially now, when almost no one feels stable.

I keep circling the idea that misalignment is emotional long before it becomes operational. Strategy just exposes what emotion has been holding together with tape. You see it in the hesitation before someone speaks. In the idea they don’t bother sharing. In the tiredness that leaks around the edges of their voice. In the energy that doesn’t match their usual signature. And when no one makes space for those signals — when silence is treated as inconvenience instead of information — alignment unravels.

The workplace demands speed. Alignment demands something slower. Not indulgent slowness. Just enough stillness for someone to feel visible again. Enough listening for truth to enter the room without needing permission. Enough humanity for people to stop bracing.

None of this tidies itself into a neat conclusion. People are not OK. Leaders are not OK. The world feels like it’s vibrating at the wrong frequency. But kintohpatatin sits there like a quiet counterweight, reminding us that listening is not optional. Not if you care about alignment. Not if you care about clarity. Not if you care about the actual humans doing the work.

Strategic Reflection Prompt:

Where in your day could you slow yourself just enough to hear what someone isn’t saying?

About Giselle

I’m Giselle Hudson — Organization & People Development Sensemaker™, MCODE® Legacy Coach, writer and musician. I help leaders and independent professionals close the gap between strategy and execution by making invisible friction visible, so direction can finally translate into results.

If execution isn’t matching intent and you can’t quite see why, message me on WhatsApp. We’ll start with a brief Clarity Conversation to understand what you’re facing and decide together whether a focused Sensemaking Session is the right next step.