Shame is an undesirable feeling, as negative as a feeling can possibly be in my opinion. Brené Brown is a shame researcher who has explained it so well as “the fear of disconnection”[1] or “the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love, belonging, and connection.”[2] Dr. Brown has provided the vocabulary that helps us articulate that icky, noxious feeling when we experience shame.
Given how toxic shame is, I view any attempt that people make to instill it in others as cruel and unnecessary. I have seen episodes of shame being used as a way to manage or control people’s behavior. It seems that most of us fear being exposed to our community in a shameful way, lest we become “disconnected” (excluded? shunned?) or seen as “flawed and unworthy” by others. By inflicting shame, or even making it a possible outcome, we can generate enough fear to deter people from doing things we want to prevent. And in the age of social media, the impact of being publicly shamed gets magnified.
The first big episode of shame I remember experiencing happened when I was in High School. My Biology classmates came up with a scheme to alter the grades for a group of girls who were not doing well in the class. After several months’ worth of grades, they got into the Biology teacher’s grade sheet and doctored theirs up. When this was discovered, the scandal ripped through our Catholic all-girls school in no time. Sister Ana María, who was our guidance counselor, marched into the classroom with the Biology teacher at the start of the class showing an ominous look on her face; it signified big trouble. After making the announcement that the plot had been discovered and lecturing us on the terrible quality of the act that was committed, she proceeded to tell us that the teacher was going to read off each name with the original grade and she would then compare it to the one in the altered sheet, out loud, in front of the whole classroom. If the grade had changed for anyone, that girl would need to stand against the back wall. What would happen next was not known.
As Sister Ana María started the exposure process, anyone with a grade differing from the original number stood against that dreadful wall. When my name came up, the teacher read my grade, and then Sister Ana María read the second number, one point above the original. She then sentenced me immediately: “go against the wall!” After a moment of confusion, a group of girls cried out: “no sister, she didn’t!!!” The teacher then chimed in: “I had adjusted her grade up.” Shocked and relieved, I altogether experienced the fear of being singled out like that, the shame of feeling exposed, and the pain that Sister Ana María did not know me at all or give me the benefit of the doubt. That memory is seared in my brain and will always be, and I was grateful that my classmates stood up for me in that moment. The group of girls who were found at fault were in big trouble. Our parents were called to a meeting with the school’s Principal, and the school leaders were looking for the punishment that would ensure this wouldn’t happen again. Clearly, the girls who cheated needed to be held accountable, yet the public nature of the incident made it theatrical and, well, shameful.
Fast forward to a chapter of my professional life, when I found myself in a work environment where judgment and criticism were constant. Employees needed to comply with a weekly reporting task leading straight to revenue. We were constantly reminded of the importance this task had, and non-compliance would lead you into the published list with the names of those who were late with their report. Ah, the virtual wall of shame was erected across the digital hallways of the organization. I dodged being put against that wall by submitting my report without delay for years. Then on a certain weekend my father passed away unexpectedly, and I had to leave the country right away to attend his funeral. Before leaving, I did remember to message my boss from the airport, explaining my emergency and that I was unable to complete my report. Shortly after coming back home, I returned to work and received an email from someone I didn’t know from within the company. In his email, the man asked me with great sarcasm if I was stuck in a well, because being stuck in a well should be the only thing preventing me from submitting my report on time. He clearly had not been filled in about my personal situation. Not only was there such a lack of tact and empathy on his part, but that “leader” didn’t seem to even consider asking a question or inquiring what the obstacle could have been for me to be on time. Alas, it was the death of the most important man in my life who prevented me from providing a report. No shame here; I’d gladly stand by the wall.
I write about this because we all carry a history of both joyful and painful events in our lives, and sometimes we drag along at least some remnants of shame that was pushed to us. Whether amends have been made or not, when others shame us we may fall into the temptation of believing that we can’t be seen or understood. Even if we don’t feel ashamed, the tactics that others have used to put us in that position can leave us experiencing intense negative feelings. In my case, those two episodes are still alive in my memory. And I’m not a victim here, as I’m sure that I’ve inflicted shame on others, even if I didn’t mean to make them feel unseen or unworthy. Shame is a weapon that we should not use, unless there is a severe fault or consequential crime to punish. And sometimes in such cases the perpetrators are unable to experience shame anyway.
As I strive to shine a light on what makes us beautifully and uniquely human, I encourage each of us to get curious with others before we point at something that can lead them to experience shame. One way to do this is to ask questions; we can ask about their intent first and listen to what they have to say. It’s not easy to do this when we’re upset or scared, so this is a skill that we need to practice. Pausing before reacting and recognizing our physical symptoms of discomfort can give us a clue that we need to inquire before passing judgment. For example: “hold on, let me make sure I understand you…” or “can you please explain what happened?” can save us from a derailed conversation. If we’re not yet practiced in using curiosity to maintain dialogue and our emotions are too strong, we can pause the conversation and take a breather. In such cases, cutting it short is better than trying to get the shame “genie” back in the bottle (or lamp?) after letting it out. I’m no expert at this but I keep practicing when facing conflict. If shame is about disconnection and flaws, questions encapsulate our desire to listen, understand, and honor other people’s worth. Where shame separates and excludes, dialogue can invite and include.
[1] & [2] Brown, B., “Atlas of the Heart: Mapping Meaningful Connection and the Language of Human Experience” New York: Random House, 2021
