A friend of mine carries a vague, haunting memory of being rushed into a trauma room on a stretcher. He had just attempted to take his own life and came perilously close to succeeding. He recalls the stark lights overhead, the flurry of voices and hands working around him, and then the moment someone cut away his clothing. Even in his nearly unconscious state, he felt a wave of humiliation wash over him. That, my friends, is the essence of shame.
Not long ago, I took a weekend getaway with my kids. One morning, as we enjoyed the continental breakfast, a stranger shot a disapproving glance at my lively preschoolers, rolled her eyes, and exclaimed loudly, “Oh my God. Can you please control your children?”
That, my friends, is not shame.
In recent years, researchers like Brené Brown have brought the concepts of shame and vulnerability into our cultural conversations. Dr. Brown has empowered countless individuals (myself included) to pursue richer, more fulfilling lives through her insights. Shame is a real phenomenon, and discussing it is crucial.
Regrettably, we’ve diluted the term, turning it into a mere punchline.
After the encounter in the hotel lobby, I could have easily declared that I was a victim of mom-shaming. I might have penned a lengthy critique of intolerant individuals and how their negativity complicates parenting. In that moment, I could have confronted her about shaming my children for simply being kids. It would have aligned with contemporary interpretations of the term. However, that would have been misleading.
The woman by the oatmeal bar did not shame me; she embarrassed me. But I was not ashamed. Instead, her rudeness served as a reminder that we live in a diverse society, where we often engage with individuals whose values and beliefs clash with our own. At that moment, my children’s behavior was at odds with her desire for a calm breakfast (trust me, I get it!). Conversely, her eye-rolling and harsh words clashed with my own values regarding courtesy to others. We experienced a clash of values; my character was not on trial—I merely had to navigate an uncomfortable interaction with an impolite individual.
But when my friend lay on that gurney? When his unconscious mind triggered a visceral reaction as strangers beheld his body? He was engulfed in profound, life-altering shame. When humiliation strikes, even in incapacitation, you understand that your dignity is at risk, and it’s time to confront the shame you carry (thankfully, he has since addressed it).
Shame is a tangible force. It can derail or even devastate lives. So let’s stop labeling every disagreement as “shaming.” When someone shoots you a disdainful glance, criticizes you, or calls you out, more often than not, you’re experiencing a clash of values and likely feeling embarrassed or angry. You might wish to vanish rather than face the situation, as I did with my energetic kids that morning. However, once the dust settles, you won’t be left paralyzed by the moment; your day will continue. That’s not shame; it’s simply life.
In closing, let’s approach the term “mom-shaming” with greater care and accuracy, recognizing the nuances that distinguish true shame from everyday conflicts.