An acquaintance of mine has a faint, fragmented recollection of being rushed into an emergency room on a stretcher. He had just attempted to take his own life and was on the brink of success. He recalls the glaring lights above him, the flurry of voices and hands around him, and the moment someone removed his clothing. Even in that state of near-unconsciousness, he felt an overwhelming wave of humiliation.
That, dear readers, is the essence of shame.
Recently, I took a weekend getaway with my children. During breakfast at the hotel, a stranger shot a disapproving look at my lively preschoolers, rolled her eyes dramatically, and exclaimed, “Oh my God. Can you please control your children?”
That is not shame.
In recent years, experts like Brené Brown have elevated discussions about shame and vulnerability in our culture. Dr. Brown’s work has empowered countless individuals (myself included) to seek more meaningful lives. Shame is a real phenomenon, and addressing it is critical.
Regrettably, the term has become trivialized.
After the encounter in the hotel dining area, I could have easily claimed to be a victim of mom-shaming. I might have penned articles condemning intolerant individuals and lamenting how their negativity complicates parenting. In that moment, I could have confronted her about her disdain for my children’s typical behavior. It would have fit the modern narrative around the term. But it wouldn’t have been truthful.
The woman by the oatmeal didn’t shame me. She embarrassed me, yes—but I felt no shame. Instead, her rudeness highlighted that we exist in a diverse society where we often clash with those whose beliefs and values differ from our own. At that moment, my children’s exuberance clashed with her desire for a serene breakfast (trust me, I get it). Conversely, her eye-rolling and harsh remarks conflicted with my own values about treating others with respect. It was a clash of values, not an indictment of my worth as a parent; I was simply enduring an interaction with someone discourteous.
In contrast, when my acquaintance found himself on that stretcher, he was engulfed in profound, life-altering shame—a feeling that asserts your personhood is at risk, compelling you to confront the shame you carry. Thankfully, in the weeks that followed, he began to address those feelings.
Shame is a genuine and potent force that can hinder lives. Therefore, let’s refrain from labeling every disagreement as “shaming.” When someone gives you a disapproving glance or criticizes you, more often than not, it’s a clash of values, leaving you feeling either embarrassed or frustrated. You’d prefer to avoid the confrontation, much like I did when faced with my energetic children that morning. Yet, when the situation calms, you are not incapacitated; life continues. This isn’t shame—it’s simply part of life.
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In summary, let’s be cautious in how we use the term “shaming.” It’s essential to distinguish between genuine shame and simple conflicts of values that leave us feeling embarrassed or annoyed. Life’s challenges are not always a reflection of our worth as individuals.
Keyphrase: redefining mom-shaming
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