And why we must use it with humility.

Years ago, early in my journey with the Enneagram, I was so enthusiastic that I couldn’t stop myself—I started “helping” some people type themselves, sometimes a bit too boldly. That kind of confidence often comes with inexperience—with both the system and the process—and I was no exception.

I meant well. I wanted those friends and colleagues to see what I saw: a map that could unlock self-awareness, compassion, and growth. But in my beginner’s mindset, I was stereotyping the types—and it wasn’t helpful, or even appropriate. And sometimes, I was wrong. Very wrong. Because I don’t live in someone else’s interior world, I can’t know what their type is.

One friend, in particular, felt misunderstood and hurt. I still regret how I approached it with her.

When the Enneagram is used carelessly—even with the best intentions—it can wound. It can confirm people’s worst fears: that they’re being labeled, analyzed without consent—or worse, judged. And once someone feels that sting, it’s hard to trust the Enneagram again—even when it has so much to offer.

I understand the skepticism. Years ago, I probably contributed to it.

Since then, I’ve witnessed self-proclaimed “experts” confidently type—or re-type—others under their leadership. I’ve heard things like, “It’s all about energy—I can just sense it,” or “They’re exactly like my partner, and my partner is that type.” Never mind that somatic energy is deeply shaped by our early caregivers, or that behaviors and outward traits don’t always correlate clearly to type. There’s also the overlay of ethnicity, religion, and culture—not to mention the powerful influence of one’s dominant instinct.

I’ve seen colleagues and friends hurt by this kind of forceful typing. It’s a distortion of what the Enneagram is meant to offer.

But I’ve also experienced what happens when this work is done with care. The Enneagram allows us to identify strengths we can build on, while also revealing patterns that harm our relationships. It invites deeper honesty and responsibility. It gives language to things we sense but don’t fully understand. It doesn’t put us in a box—it shows us the box we’re already in, and how to move beyond it.

Personally, it expanded my empathy. I began to understand that others see the world in eight other ways—not just my own. That realization completely transformed my relationships.

So if you’re an Enneagram coach, teacher, or practitioner, here’s my unsolicited advice:

Lead with humility. Assume you don’t know (because you don’t!). Stay curious. Invite people in, instead of telling them what they are.

The Enneagram can illuminate and liberate—but only when it’s offered with consent, care, and deep respect for the mystery of being human.

Let’s use it with the reverence it deserves.