Humility is not thinking poorly of yourself. This is the most common misunderstanding and the most costly. Self-diminishment is still self-focus — it just points the same attention in an unflattering direction. Accuracy is the standard, and an accurate view includes what you're actually good at. False humility is the main reasons people never pursue a bold vision. Refusing to own your capability isn't modesty. It's a way of staying safe.
It's a set of behaviours, not a temperament. The research on humble leadership is unusually specific about what it looks like: admitting mistakes and limitations out loud, drawing attention to other people's strengths, and being visibly teachable. All three are things you do rather than things you feel — which is useful, because it means you don't have to become a different person, you have to say a few different sentences.
It gets harder as you get better. Early on, being teachable costs nothing; you're expected not to know. The higher you go, the more expensive it becomes, because now not knowing carries a price and you have a reputation that made not-knowing look unlikely. This is why senior people quietly stop asking questions, and why the most dangerous version of a leader is one who was genuinely right for a long time.
It leaves room, and the room is the point. Humility isn't primarily about your self-assessment — it's about how much space is left over for everyone else. Whether your view is the last one heard or the first one stated. Whether someone can change your mind and have that be a normal event rather than a story they tell later.
That's what humility is — not a low opinion of yourself, but an accurate one, held loosely enough that other people have space around you.