Reframing 'intimidating'

or what we really mean when we say someone has a lot of presence

Photo by Mathurin NAPOLY / matnapo on Unsplash

“She’s just… intimidating.”

It’s often meant as a compliment, or at least not an insult. But for the person on the receiving end, it rarely feels good. More like a backhanded observation than anything you’d actually want to be described as.

It’s said often enough that most of us have heard it. Some of us have absorbed it. A few of us have even learned to carry it; not quite comfortably, but with a kind of resigned awareness, like a freckle or a resting face we forgot to correct.

But I’ve been thinking about that word lately. Not just how often it shows up, but how slippery it is. What are we really describing when we call someone intimidating?

Because more often than not, we’re not talking about someone who’s mean or overbearing. We’re talking about someone with a clear sense of themselves. Someone who doesn’t rush to shrink, explain, or overcompensate. Someone who doesn’t hand out instant access. And sometimes, that alone is enough to unnerve people.

We rarely call someone intimidating when they’re genuinely difficult - the people who interrupt, talk down, or always need to be right. I have zero time for that energy, and honestly, I don’t think that’s what most of us mean anyway. We use it when we’re unsure how to place them. When they don’t give us the usual cues - a warm smile, light small talk, a little softness at the edges. Especially when they’re a woman.

I’ve seen it happen in all sorts of settings - around dinner tables, at work, even among people who later become close. That first impression sticks. Not because of something they did, but because of what they didn’t offer up straight away. As if being selective with your energy is something that needs explaining.

But intimidating to who, exactly? And why?

Sometimes I think the word shows up when we encounter someone who isn’t immediately available in the way we’ve come to expect. They’re not unkind, they’re just not signalling their likability on demand. That unfamiliarity creates tension, and rather than sit in that tension, we label it. We tell ourselves a story about the person instead of asking what we’re reacting to.

But it’s not always discomfort. Sometimes intimidating is just a stand-in for admiration. Or intrigue. Sometimes it’s that gentle jolt of meeting someone who isn’t performing. And if you’re not used to that, it can feel a little sharp around the edges. But maybe that edge is the point. Maybe it invites us to meet people where they are, not where we’ve decided they should be.

That description - intimidating - tends to stick in people’s minds. Even when the person in question hasn’t done anything to deserve it. Especially when they show up with confidence or calmness. Especially when they’re not asking for permission to take up space.

It becomes a shortcut. A vague way of saying: they didn’t give me what I usually look for. They didn’t fill the silences or smooth the moment. But that doesn’t make them difficult. It just makes them different.

And different isn’t dangerous.

Not everyone’s immediately open. Not everyone is here to be read and understood on first glance. Some people move with intention. Some people choose when, and with whom, they reveal their warmth. That doesn’t make them distant. That makes them human.

And that difference, that unfamiliarity, doesn’t mean there’s something off about the person in front of us.

Because at its core, intimidation is relational. No one is intimidating in a vacuum. It only exists in response to how someone else feels. That doesn’t make the feeling wrong, but it does mean we should be thoughtful about how we turn it into a label. What feels like distance might actually be boundaries. What feels like coolness might be discernment. What feels unfamiliar might just be… unfamiliar.

So maybe next time, instead of reaching for the word, we pause. Not to over-analyse, but to get curious. Not “Why are they like that?” but “What was I expecting and why?”

Because maybe they weren’t intimidating at all. Maybe they were just comfortable being themselves. And maybe the real question isn’t about them.

Maybe the question is: Are they intimidating, or are you just intimidated?