When I meet someone new and they tell me within the first few minutes that they’re an empath, I feel an unmistakable red flag rise somewhere in my chest. It’s not a small, subtle signal either; it’s more like one of those large festival banners that catch the breeze and are hard to ignore.
I should add here that it isn’t that I have anything against empathy. Quite the opposite. In my work, I often explore how empathy strengthens leadership, communication and mentoring relationships. When it’s genuine, empathy has a remarkable ability to bridge difference, to soften defensiveness and to help people feel seen and understood.
I think the difficulty is that genuine empathy rarely feels the need to announce itself.
The performance of empathy
When someone introduces themselves with the phrase “I’m an empath” before we’ve even ordered coffee, it can sometimes feel like part of a performance rather than a reflection of how they actually relate to others. The sociologist Erving Goffman, in his 1959 classic The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, described this as ‘impression management’ – the ways we consciously shape how others see us, particularly in early interactions. I know that I do this to some extent (we all do), but declaring empathy right away sounds more like a self-branding exercise than a natural part of being.
When I think of people I know who embody real empathy, it tends to express itself quietly, through their tone, timing, curiosity and attention. For example, I might notice it in the way someone listens without interrupting, or the way they hold a pause long enough for me to find my words.
Why the declaration concerns me
When someone feels the need to declare that they’re an empath, it can sometimes suggest blurred boundaries rather than deep compassion. People who identify strongly with the “Empath” label often experience others’ emotions very intensely, which can lead to over-identification or emotional exhaustion. I’ve studied this to support some of the work I undertake with the NHS; psychologists distinguish between empathy and empathic distress – a state where you feel another person’s pain so strongly that it becomes your own. As neuroscientist Tania Singer and her colleagues have shown, empathic distress can trigger burnout and avoidance, whereas compassion engages different neural pathways and allows for sustained care without depletion.
To be fair, that intensity may look like empathy, but it’s actually a form of absorption – taking on what isn’t yours to carry. In professional or caring roles, that can easily slip into rescuing behaviour or misplaced responsibility for other people’s feelings.
There’s also a subtle self-focus within the “I’m an empath” narrative, in my opinion. The conversation can quickly become about how difficult it is for the speaker to feel so much, which moves attention away from other people’s experiences and back onto their own sensitivity. True empathy is relational rather than self-referential; it’s about understanding and presence, not identity.
What empathy looks like without the label
In my experience, the people who are genuinely empathetic don’t describe themselves that way. You notice their empathy because you feel it: they listen in a way that gives space, they notice tone, energy and what’s not being said. They also ask questions that show they’re genuinely paying attention, and nothing about it feels performative.
As Daniel Goleman described in his work on Emotional Intelligence, empathy is less about sharing every emotion another person feels and more about accurately perceiving and responding to those emotions with balance and perspective. In other words, empathy isn’t about feeling everything – it’s about understanding what you’re feeling in relation to someone else and using that awareness wisely.
Empathy matters deeply in workplaces, families and friendships, yet it’s at its most powerful when it’s simply enacted rather than declared. Maybe I’m just feeling a bit cynical today as I write this article, but the way I see it is if you have to tell people you’re an empath, something about the connection is already getting lost in translation.
So if we meet and you tell me within the first few minutes that you are an empath, please don’t take it personally if a red flag waves somewhere in my mind. It isn’t a rejection of empathy; it’s simply a reminder that the truest forms of it tend to reveal themselves quietly, in the way we listen, notice and respond.
When it shows up in training rooms
Interestingly, the place I hear the declaration “I’m an empath” most often is in training rooms – particularly when people are learning about coaching, mentoring or courageous conversations. Early in those sessions, someone will often tell me (or the whole group) that they’re an empath, almost as a way of signalling that they already possess the qualities the course is designed to develop. I understand the intention behind it; it comes from a genuine wish to connect and to be seen as caring.
However, the most effective coaches and mentors I’ve seen don’t describe themselves as empaths. They demonstrate empathy through boundaries, curiosity and the discipline of listening without rescuing. Research into coaching relationships backs this up: studies by Richard Boyatzis and colleagues have shown that empathy, combined with appropriate challenge, predicts better outcomes than empathy alone. Effective coaches create a balance between warmth and accountability, so that they can be deeply attuned without becoming emotionally entangled.
To me, that’s what mature empathy looks like in action: a grounded presence that supports growth rather than absorbing pain. Or, as Brené Brown often puts it, empathy is about connecting with people, not carrying their emotions for them.
If more people recognised that distinction, our workplaces would have fewer exhausted “empaths” and more genuinely compassionate professionals who can listen, hold space and still stand steady on their own two feet.
References and further reading
If you’d like to explore some of the research behind this topic, here are a few sources worth dipping into:
- Goffman, E. (1959). The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Anchor Books.
A classic exploration of how people manage the impressions they make on others – still remarkably relevant to modern workplace dynamics. - Singer, T., & Klimecki, O. (2014). Empathy and compassion. Current Biology, 24(18).
Summarises research on the difference between empathy that drains us and compassion that sustains us. - Goleman, D. (1995). Emotional Intelligence: Why It Can Matter More Than IQ. Bantam Books.
Introduces emotional intelligence and highlights empathy as one of its core components. - Boyatzis, R., Smith, M., & Beveridge, A. (2013). Coaching with Compassion: Inspiring Health, Wellbeing, and Development in Organisations. The Journal of Applied Behavioural Science, 49(2).
Evidence that coaching works best when empathy is paired with appropriate challenge. - Brown, B. (2018). Dare to Lead: Brave Work. Tough Conversations. Whole Hearts. Random House.
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