The Space to Be Human
Laurie Banfi Is Leading With Humanity At Work
BY CAMMANEX EDITORIAL
Laurie Banfi didn’t set out to become a voice for human-first leadership. She found her way there through presence—moments that shook her, stayed with her, and shaped how she sees people and power at work. One of those moments happened late on a shift in radiation oncology. A patient had passed. There was nothing to fix, no strategy to apply—just two colleagues sitting together in silence, feeling it. That kind of raw presence, where no one is pretending to be okay, left a mark. It built trust the kind you can’t manufacture. Then there was the patient in pain and rage, letting it all out. Laurie stayed, quietly, a hand on their knee. She didn’t offer solutions or try to manage the discomfort. She simply stayed. Later, that patient told her they had never felt truly heard until that moment.
These weren’t just emotional milestones. They were professional turning points. They taught her what it means to lead not by position, but by presence. And when she crossed into the business world, she felt the absence of that humanity like a cold draft through a closed door. In boardrooms and strategy sessions, what mattered most in oncology—the noticing, the holding, the space-making—was nowhere to be found. Yet, those are the very things that allow teams to function under pressure. To thrive. Laurie came to see that human-first leadership isn’t some soft layer on top of “real” work. It is the real work. It’s how trust is built. It’s how teams stay resilient. It’s how leaders lead, even when they’re not the ones with the loudest voice or the most polished metrics. Through it all, three truths stayed with her:
1. Know who you serve and why it matters.
2. Make sure every team member knows their contribution counts.
3. Build real belonging—the kind that lasts past the meeting.
She found her way there through presence, in moments that shook her, stayed with her, and shaped how she sees people and power at work.
Outside of her work, Laurie finds joy in the dirt. In the garden with her five-year-old son Max. On a bike. Digging. Laughing. Living. These aren’t moments of escape; they’re ways she plugs back into what feels real. Max is neurodiverse, and raising him has deepened her belief that we all deserve space to show up exactly as we are. The world doesn’t always make room for that, especially for those who are wired differently. And so Laurie’s mission sharpened: to build a world, and a workplace, where being human is not just tolerated, but treasured. It’s a mission rooted in her own lived experiences. Burnout. Feeling invisible. Taking on blame that wasn’t hers. For a time, she lost sight of what she brought to the table. It took a step back—and a breakdown, to see her worth again.
Now, she helps others do the same.
Because for many human-first leaders, the issue isn’t lack of skill or heart—it’s invisibility. They’re the glue. The fixers. The ones who stay late, smooth tension, and lift everyone else up. But no one sees it. And over time, they stop seeing themselves too. The shift happens when they begin to name their value again. When they set boundaries. When they say: this part isn’t mine to carry. Suddenly, they’re not so easily ignored. Their energy shifts. And that’s when real leadership begins. Laurie doesn’t just preach resilience. She lived in a world that demanded it daily. In oncology, she learned that life can turn in a heartbeat. That what matters isn’t your title, but how you show up. That presence, not perfection, is what makes people feel safe. And that showing up especially when it’s hard, is what creates results. Even in her own personal health journey, she’s had to learn to pause. To notice when the cup is empty. To stop trying to push through. Leadership, for her, isn’t about having it all figured out. It’s about knowing when to keep going and when to rest.
These days, she’s integrating technology in a human-first way too. AI, for Laurie, isn’t about automating away the mess. It’s a self-reflection tool, a space to speak her thoughts aloud, spot patterns, and gain clarity without judgment. It’s not a substitute for connection, but a way to process when no one else is around. She teaches her clients to use it this way too: not as an oracle, but as a quiet mirror. A thinking partner. In a world obsessed with power, it’s presence that resonates most with her now. Presence as the quiet courage to sit with discomfort. To listen. To witness. To let people be human in real time, even if it’s messy, angry, or unresolved. That’s where empathy lives. And that’s also where leadership happens.
Laurie believes it’s time we said out loud what too many leaders carry alone:
That it’s not your failure to carry when decisions are out of your hands.
That valuing yourself is not ego, it’s essential.
That care must go in both directions.
And perhaps most radically: You don’t have to choose between humility and self-worth. You can hold both.
Her view of work has shifted too. When she first started CoDefined, her leadership consultancy, it came from a need to fix what was broken. But healing from her own burnout changed the lens. Now, she sees clearly that change isn’t top-down. It happens in the room. In the moments. In the ripples we create around us. That’s why her focus has moved to mid-tier, human-first leaders, the quiet giants holding it all together. They don’t need more tools or motivational quotes. They need a space to land. A place to be seen, supported, and reminded of their own worth. This fall, she is launching that very space, a community for human-first leaders, grounded in real-world support, micro-steps, and deep care. It’s her way of helping close the gap between what these leaders give and what they receive. Because the leaders she works with are already building the future of work. They just need to know they’re not doing it alone.
For Laurie, a human-first workplace isn’t theoretical. You feel it the moment you walk in. You breathe easier. You drop the mask. People remember your hard days. They bring you coffee. They ask how you really are. You laugh. You rant. You exhale. And when something goes wrong, no one panics. No one points fingers. People come together. They fix it, and they move on. That’s what human-first culture feels like.
And what’s lighting her up now? The climb. The slow, beautiful, healing journey. The micro-steps. The quiet wins. The real work.
And of course, showing Max what it looks like to be fully, fiercely, undeniably human.
Keep a look out for her upcoming community and visit: codefined.co