Swimming Upstream: Leadership, Grief, and the Courage to Be Human with Dr. Shirley Zinn

A Journey Shaped by Values, Education and Opportunity

Lauren Davis: I was thinking this morning, it’s a little bit of a fangirl moment for me because I really have looked up to you, respected you, and been so inspired by you for years. So to have this one-on-one time just feels like a real gift. So thanks, Shirley. I really appreciate it.

Shirley Zinn: Thank you so much, Lauren, also for having me. It’s such an honour that we connected when we did and kept that connection going. I’m always amazed that one manages to do that with people, where there’s a resonance and a connection and a sharing of common purpose around key values. I really love the work that you’re doing, and I’m very honoured to be here and to be on your podcast with you today.

Lauren Davis: And you are my first guest. I’ve been soloing it for a while, a couple of episodes, and then decided to bring in other people’s voices and knowledge. I thought starting with you as my first guest would be amazing because of your exposure and experience in leadership and HR.

I know we had a conversation a few years ago about mental health in the workplace, so it felt like you really epitomise the intersection of all of that. You’re also a human being and a woman in the workplace. I thought you would be such a valuable guest.

I’ve got so many questions and thoughts to share with you across your experience. But before I jump in, perhaps you can tell us a little about your background, who you are, and what you’re currently busy with. I can read your bio, but I’d much rather hear it from you.

Shirley Zinn: Thank you so much, Lauren.

Just a little bit about my journey. I was born and bred in Cape Town. I grew up on the Cape Flats during apartheid. I was born in 1961, just to give some context—not to give away my age.

It was a time of deep fragmentation of society, deep racism, socioeconomic challenges, and intentional displacement. People were pushed to the periphery, not only geographically but socially, left to struggle rather than flourish.

My parents never finished high school, but somehow they understood that education would be our liberation. When I say “our,” I mean my sister and me. She is three years younger than I am.

My father worked in a low-level job after his family had been displaced from District Six. We lived in a council house in an area with very little infrastructure, widespread poverty, unemployment, gender-based violence, and many of the social challenges we still see today.

Yet within all of that, my father constantly told us, “Let’s not get stuck here. Let’s make something from nothing. Educate yourselves so that you can become financially independent.”

My mother taught us about values. She didn’t use that word, but she spoke about respect, excellence, hard work, humility, courage, kindness, and service to others.

Those messages became the guardrails for my life.

She taught us that if you make a mistake, you can apologise and correct course. If you fall down, you can get up again. And above all, be kind and generous in spirit.

My father kept repeating one thing: “Please just get your matric.”

At the time, very few children around me were finishing school, especially girls.

So I worked towards matric. Because it became too dangerous for my sister and me to travel home every day, we stayed with our grandmother during the week. She taught us discipline, diligence, dedication, and determination—the four Ds, as I often think of them.

I eventually completed matric in 1979 and assumed I would find a job and help support my family.

Then two teachers sat me down and changed my life.

They told me, “You’re not necessarily the brightest student, but we believe you can do much more than you think you’re capable of.”

That conversation was transformational.

They encouraged me to consider university. Nobody had ever suggested that before. I went home and spoke to my parents. We didn’t have money, but they agreed that if I worked hard and found a way, I should try.

I received a government bursary and enrolled at the University of the Western Cape in 1980.

Discovering Purpose Through Education and Activism

My first year at university was incredibly difficult because it coincided with widespread student uprisings and protests against apartheid policies.

The university shut down, my studies were interrupted, and I had to look for work. I spent months trying to find a job but couldn’t.

That experience gave me a deep appreciation for what many young South Africans face today. Youth unemployment remains one of the biggest challenges in our country.

Eventually, I managed to re-enrol and complete my studies.

I taught English for four years while continuing my education part-time. One qualification led to another, and eventually I completed a doctorate.

Along the way, my mother-in-law clipped out a newspaper advertisement about the Harvard South Africa Fellowship programme.

I remember saying, “Do you understand what this means?”

And she said, “If you don’t apply, you’ll never know.”

That advice changed my life.

I applied, was accepted, completed a second master’s degree at Harvard, and later gained admission to the doctoral programme.

My husband, Kevin, supported me completely throughout that journey.

We married in 1992, moved to Harvard together, welcomed our son Jamie in 1995, and I graduated with my doctorate in 1997.

Coming home to Cape Town with my degree, my husband, and my son remains one of the proudest moments of my life.

Loss, Grief and Finding a New Purpose

After returning to South Africa, I hoped to work in education but couldn’t secure a position.

Instead, I entered the corporate world through a training role at Southern Life. That opportunity opened doors into HR leadership, eventually leading me to executive roles at organisations including South African Revenue Service, Nedbank, Standard Bank, and Woolworths.

But on 3 January 2003, everything changed.

While driving back to Johannesburg after a holiday in Cape Town, we were involved in a terrible car accident.

We lost our son Jamie.

He was seven years old.

Kevin was seriously injured, and I spent 24 hours in a critical condition.

It was the most devastating experience of our lives.

The world expects people to continue functioning after profound loss, but grief doesn’t work that way.

I initially resisted seeking help, despite all my psychology training. I thought I could simply return to work and carry on.

Eventually, I realised I needed support.

What stayed with me during that period was the extraordinary compassion shown by my employer and colleagues. My home was filled with flowers and messages of support from around the world.

That experience fundamentally shaped how I think about leadership.

It reinforced my belief that organisations must care for people, not simply as employees but as human beings.

Even now, Jamie would have been 31 years old.

His loss remains part of who I am and part of my story.

I share it because if it can help someone else, then some good can come from that pain.

Why Human-Centred Leadership Matters

Lauren Davis: What strikes me is that people often call that resilience, but what I’m hearing is something deeper.

It’s not simply pushing through. It’s allowing yourself to stop, heal, do the hard work, and have the courage to share your story.

So many leaders are afraid to speak openly about vulnerability.

What would you say to leaders and HR professionals who are struggling and carrying their own burdens?

Shirley Zinn: COVID highlighted this more clearly than ever.

HR has evolved significantly—from personnel administration to human resources, human capital, business partnering, and now chief people officers.

But ultimately, organisations succeed or fail based on how they treat people.

Every organisation has employees, customers, communities, regulators, shareholders, and stakeholders. People are at the centre of everything.

The question is: what kind of culture are we creating?

Do people feel they belong?

Do they feel psychologically safe?

Can they flourish?

Can they be vulnerable?

Those are leadership questions.

I remember trying to speak about care and even love in boardrooms.

People would roll their eyes and say, “We’re here to run a business.”

And my response was always the same:

If you don’t care about your people, nobody will want to work here.

If you don’t care about your customers, nobody will buy from you.

If you don’t care about your communities, you won’t have legitimacy.

Care is not soft. It is fundamental.

The Role of HR in Shaping Organisational Culture

COVID created a reset.

HR teams became the triage function. They were helping people access healthcare, supporting remote work, providing equipment, and helping employees navigate unprecedented uncertainty.

Many people have never fully recovered from that period.

So my message to HR professionals is this:

Stop asking whether you have a seat at the table.

You are already at the table.

Lead.

Lead courageously.

Lead credibly.

Lead with confidence.

When I sit on boards today, I’m not only interested in headcount reports and remuneration metrics.

I want to hear stories about people thriving.

I want to know whether organisations are creating environments where employees can learn, grow, contribute, and remain healthy.

Because ultimately, people are not resources to be managed. They are human beings whose wellbeing directly affects organisational performance.

Beneath the Busy: Creating Space for Reflection

Lauren Davis: One thing I often say is that you have to be well to lead well.

What helps leaders finally understand that caring for themselves and their people is not separate from performance, but essential to it?

Shirley Zinn: Research helps.

Understanding what successful organisations are doing helps.

But perhaps most importantly, leaders need opportunities to pause and reflect.

Leadership development isn’t just about qualifications.

It’s about examining yourself.

What strengths do you bring?

What challenges do you have?

How do you work with others?

How do you listen?

How do you create space for reflection?

Most leaders are operating at such a frantic pace that they never stop long enough to think.

And when you do create that space, it often feels uncomfortable.

But it’s within that discomfort that growth happens.

When people are given the opportunity to speak honestly, remarkable things emerge.

You discover stories, motivations, fears, and aspirations that would otherwise remain hidden.

Many disengaged employees have psychologically left long before they physically resign.

We miss the warning signs because we’re too busy ticking boxes.

That concerns me deeply.

We’re measuring outputs while overlooking the human experience behind them.

A Different Vision of Leadership

What worries me most is the continued obsession with constant activity and performance at all costs.

People are exhausted.

Many are struggling financially.

Many are carrying enormous personal responsibilities.

They cannot simply leave those realities at the office door.

If leaders became more attuned to the human realities people carry, we could unlock extraordinary potential.

That’s what gives me hope.

We’re at a point where conversations like this are becoming possible.

We can see more clearly than ever what poor leadership looks like.

And because of that, we also have an opportunity to define what good leadership looks like.

Leadership that is human.

Leadership that listens.

Leadership that cares.

Leadership that creates conditions where people can thrive.

Final Reflections: We Are Human, Not Machines

Lauren Davis: If people remember only one thing from our conversation today, what would you want it to be?

Shirley Zinn: I would want people to remember that we are human beings, not machines.

The world will continue if we take a moment to pause.

Give yourself permission to stop.

Reflect.

Breathe.

When you feel overwhelmed, know that many others feel exactly the same.

Prioritise your sustainability.

Take care of yourself.

We only get one chance at this life.

We only get one chance at our health.

And while our livelihoods matter, we cannot have a livelihood if we do not have a life.

Lauren Davis: Beautiful. Wow. Thank you.

Shirley, thank you so much. Your wisdom and insights are such a gift.

I’m inspired by the way you continue to have these conversations in spaces where they matter most.

You show up authentically, generously, and courageously, and I know many people will benefit from hearing your story.

Shirley Zinn: Thank you so much, Lauren.

I love the work that you’re doing, and whatever I can do to support these conversations, I’m always happy to help.

Lauren Davis: Thank you.

Shirley Zinn: Thank you very much. All the best.

Lauren Davis: All right.