When I was in my late twenties, I travelled around the world on my own.
My journey began in Thailand, where I joined a month-long tour with a group of complete strangers. People from different countries, different cultures and different walks of life. Most of us had arrived alone, carrying little more than a backpack and a shared curiosity about the world.
Looking back, what strikes me isn't how quickly we became friends.
It's that nobody tried to “break the ice.”
There wasn't an awkward introduction exercise. Nobody asked us to share an interesting fact about ourselves or bring an object that represented who we were. We simply started talking. We shared stories, laughed, discovered common interests and slowly built trust.
Fifteen years later, many of those people remain some of my closest friends. In fact, in a couple of weeks we'll be travelling from different corners of the world to meet each other again.
It made me realise something.
Perhaps people don't need help breaking the ice.
Perhaps they simply need the opportunity to connect.
Years later, whilst studying Neuro-Linguistic Programming, a trainer casually remarked, “The phrase itself suggests there's ice to be broken.”
It was one of those moments that quietly changes the way you think.
I'd spent years facilitating workshops and leadership programmes, and almost every week somebody would ask me the same question.
“We're kicking off a meeting. Have you got a good icebreaker?”
On the surface, it seems harmless. In fact, it's become so common that most of us never stop to question it.
But language matters. The words we choose shape the emotional state we create.
When we tell a room full of people that we're about to “break the ice”, we've already planted the idea that there is something uncomfortable to overcome. Something awkward. Something that needs fixing before we can begin.
For many people, their body responds before they've even had a chance to think.
You see shoulders tense.
Eyes drop.
Nervous laughter fills the room.
People begin wondering what they'll have to say, whether they'll sound silly or whether everyone else has thought of something more interesting.
It's remarkably similar to telling someone they're about to take a test. Even if the activity is light-hearted, their nervous system has already shifted.
Ironically, we've created the very state we were hoping to avoid.
I remember one client asking participants to bring an object that represented who they were. The intention was lovely. The outcome wasn't.
Before the session had even started, attendees were messaging each other saying things like, “What are you bringing? Mine feels rubbish.”
The discomfort didn't begin in the room. It began the moment they read the email.
Over time, I stopped using the phrase altogether.
Instead of saying, “Let's break the ice,” I'd simply say, “Let's spend a few minutes getting to know each other.”
I also changed the activities themselves. Rather than asking people to perform, I focused on helping them connect.
Because in my experience, people rarely build relationships through forced interaction.
They connect through moments of gentle vulnerability. A shared experience. A meaningful conversation. A genuine curiosity about another person's story.
Sometimes, they connect over nothing more complicated than a cup of tea or coffee. There's a reason so many important conversations happen over a hot drink. It naturally creates a sense of calm, familiarity and ease. We don't sit down and announce that we're about to “break the ice.”
We simply begin.
Whether you're leading a meeting, welcoming somebody new to your team or introducing yourself to a stranger, I'd encourage you to think differently about the first few moments.
Not because icebreakers are inherently bad. But because our intention matters.
Are we asking people to perform?
Or are we creating an environment where connection can happen naturally?
The next time you're tempted to say, “Let's break the ice,” pause for a moment. Ask yourself:
What if there isn't any ice to break?
What if this is simply an opportunity to build connection?
Sometimes the smallest shift in perspective changes everything.