Shame
I was thinking about shame the other day and it really hit me just how full of shame our whole culture is. It's not particularly surprising to me that we have this air of shame that surrounds us, it's just how pervasive it is to everything. I certainly feel like there's a place for shame. There are some shameful things that people do, but existing isn't really one of them. I remember from when I was in University, I wrote this small little note to a friend of mine for Valentine's day and slid it under her dorm room door anonymously. The note basically said that I thought she was an amazing person and I just wanted her to know that someone was thinking about just how amazing she was. Obviously, I realize that my opinion of her doesn't make a damn bit of difference to who she is and I never expected it to, but ya know, every now and again, it's just nice to know that someone else sees something in you.
As with all poorly executed ideas, it took all of 5 minutes before everyone had it all figured out that I had "sent" the note. Supposedly, my printer font was just that unique. And I was shamed into apologizing. That shame followed me for years, so much so that I even tried to write about it once (names and genders have been changed for no apparent reason):
What disturbs me the most is that I was made to apologize for saying that you are a beautiful and interesting person. I felt guilty, like I had done something wrong. All I had done was let you know that someone cared on a day when you were feeling alone. Since then I’ve always felt on edge with you. I’ve always been scared that if I was too friendly you might take offense.
I remember the first time I came to see Daniel after you and he had moved to Ann Arbor. I still felt a strong friendship with Daniel. I thought he would be happy to see me. We’d been apart since graduation. I’m not sure what reaction my intrusion into his new life had, but I remember that he was out the door in less than 10 minutes. He had set up this new reality and I was not a part of it. His new life could not exist with me in the room.
I remember once Daniel told me that when he was little, he didn’t think his schoolmates could see him when they weren’t at school. When Daniel was at the grocery store with his mom and saw a classmate, Daniel would follow him around and make faces because he couldn’t see Daniel. Those two realities were not compatible. There was “school Daniel” and “home Daniel” and could be no overlap. I wondered why he would be able to see them when they couldn’t see him.
There we were. Sitting in your kitchen alone. We were unable to be comfortable around each other in the years since my apology and this moment was hanging very tense in echo of the door slamming behind Daniel. Your comic strip eyes looked at me for the punch line and you offered me a glass of wine. I have never been a wine drinker, but nothing else was appropriate with you. We sat and talked like old friends. What choice had we? Daniel had stolen the role of “uncomfortable male opposition.” You asked me to spend the night and I did. We had lain down and I curled up into you. My hair covered our faces and you arm draped over my body. Your skin reflected like moonlight over trees.
Somewhere inside me I felt that you wanted me to kiss your cheek, rub my hand across your stomach, run a finger down your cheekbone. Mostly I knew that you just wanted me to lay there with you and sleep. You didn’t want me to betray the evening, belittling the joy that we had while drinking wine and laughing together. I lay there hidden in my hair. Hidden from the years of uncomfortable silences and ridiculous fights. And we slept.
Now here's that fucked up thing about shame, my first thought when I pasted that was to ask everyone to excuse how bad it is. I'm scared that the writing I did 15 years about will cause me shame.
The ridiculous thing is that I'm talking about having a light crush on a friend. I'm not even talking about real shit. There are so many stupid little things that people feel shame over. Liking certain bands for instance, the things we refer to as guilty pleasures. Shit, all our likes have become ironic because, as a culture, we can't let people know that we legitimately like something or someone might cut us down and shame us (except Doctor Who because, yeah, but total props if you cosplay that shit, because you just become a target for aggro from people who need to tell you how wrong you're doing it).
So then, what happens when we talk about real things? What happens when we talk about our self image, our bodies, our sexuality, our sexual orientation, our capacity to love . . . ? We've got people torturing themselves, even killing themselves because of how they look or who they love/how they love them. I really don't get what's inherently wrong with not achieving the commonly accepted standard of beauty? Especially if you're not in a relationship with that person? And even if you are in a relationship with that person, they WILL get ugly compared with our cultural standard of beauty at some point. Do people not get that? The shell is completely irrelevant. And sex and sexuality. Why do we care so much who is fucking whom and how much they are doing it. Where did this ethical black and whiteness come from?
Where did all this start? Was it religion or just the use of a shame society to help establish a like minded community. And knowing that the concept of a shame society being a thing, how can that not impact how we relate to our own shame? At what point do we, as a culture, stop paying lip service to that _________ positive movement and actually change from shameful to proud about who we are and what we like? I don't know. I wish I had even a tenth of the answers that I do questions. I guess the best I can do is make an effort to live intentionally unashamed. I am making an unashamed list now.
Unashamed List:
I like Depeche Mode a lot
I'm pretty darn bisexual
Ani Difranco kicks ass
I'm over weight
I like being naked in a non-sexual way
Most people would say that I'm whipped because I do a lot of stuff for my wife
I've done a lot of writing over the years and some with very little skill or talent, but it's how I was feeling at the time.
Weird Al is a genious
I'm dyslexic
I love comics (and not just walking dead comics)
I quite enjoy having as much sex as possible with my wife
I love ballet and other forms of dance
oh and I just installed Chicken Invaders in my computer. . .
And so we know the correct things to feel shame about
Shame List:
I was a complete dick to Mark C at my 12th birthday party because I didn't want the girls to think I liked toys and he got me a toy
I broke up with Jacky S that same year because people teased me about going out with her
I cheated on a Spanish test in 10th grade
I put the "moves" on my friend Nicole E. when I was 20ish and it was a violation of trust for our friendship
I get angry too easily and when I'm angry I get a bit scary
I'm sure I could go on further with both lists, but I think making the list is a really way to get myself started living intentionally unashamed of things that don't hurt anyone.
As with all poorly executed ideas, it took all of 5 minutes before everyone had it all figured out that I had "sent" the note. Supposedly, my printer font was just that unique. And I was shamed into apologizing. That shame followed me for years, so much so that I even tried to write about it once (names and genders have been changed for no apparent reason):
What disturbs me the most is that I was made to apologize for saying that you are a beautiful and interesting person. I felt guilty, like I had done something wrong. All I had done was let you know that someone cared on a day when you were feeling alone. Since then I’ve always felt on edge with you. I’ve always been scared that if I was too friendly you might take offense.
I remember the first time I came to see Daniel after you and he had moved to Ann Arbor. I still felt a strong friendship with Daniel. I thought he would be happy to see me. We’d been apart since graduation. I’m not sure what reaction my intrusion into his new life had, but I remember that he was out the door in less than 10 minutes. He had set up this new reality and I was not a part of it. His new life could not exist with me in the room.
I remember once Daniel told me that when he was little, he didn’t think his schoolmates could see him when they weren’t at school. When Daniel was at the grocery store with his mom and saw a classmate, Daniel would follow him around and make faces because he couldn’t see Daniel. Those two realities were not compatible. There was “school Daniel” and “home Daniel” and could be no overlap. I wondered why he would be able to see them when they couldn’t see him.
There we were. Sitting in your kitchen alone. We were unable to be comfortable around each other in the years since my apology and this moment was hanging very tense in echo of the door slamming behind Daniel. Your comic strip eyes looked at me for the punch line and you offered me a glass of wine. I have never been a wine drinker, but nothing else was appropriate with you. We sat and talked like old friends. What choice had we? Daniel had stolen the role of “uncomfortable male opposition.” You asked me to spend the night and I did. We had lain down and I curled up into you. My hair covered our faces and you arm draped over my body. Your skin reflected like moonlight over trees.
Somewhere inside me I felt that you wanted me to kiss your cheek, rub my hand across your stomach, run a finger down your cheekbone. Mostly I knew that you just wanted me to lay there with you and sleep. You didn’t want me to betray the evening, belittling the joy that we had while drinking wine and laughing together. I lay there hidden in my hair. Hidden from the years of uncomfortable silences and ridiculous fights. And we slept.
Now here's that fucked up thing about shame, my first thought when I pasted that was to ask everyone to excuse how bad it is. I'm scared that the writing I did 15 years about will cause me shame.
The ridiculous thing is that I'm talking about having a light crush on a friend. I'm not even talking about real shit. There are so many stupid little things that people feel shame over. Liking certain bands for instance, the things we refer to as guilty pleasures. Shit, all our likes have become ironic because, as a culture, we can't let people know that we legitimately like something or someone might cut us down and shame us (except Doctor Who because, yeah, but total props if you cosplay that shit, because you just become a target for aggro from people who need to tell you how wrong you're doing it).
So then, what happens when we talk about real things? What happens when we talk about our self image, our bodies, our sexuality, our sexual orientation, our capacity to love . . . ? We've got people torturing themselves, even killing themselves because of how they look or who they love/how they love them. I really don't get what's inherently wrong with not achieving the commonly accepted standard of beauty? Especially if you're not in a relationship with that person? And even if you are in a relationship with that person, they WILL get ugly compared with our cultural standard of beauty at some point. Do people not get that? The shell is completely irrelevant. And sex and sexuality. Why do we care so much who is fucking whom and how much they are doing it. Where did this ethical black and whiteness come from?
Where did all this start? Was it religion or just the use of a shame society to help establish a like minded community. And knowing that the concept of a shame society being a thing, how can that not impact how we relate to our own shame? At what point do we, as a culture, stop paying lip service to that _________ positive movement and actually change from shameful to proud about who we are and what we like? I don't know. I wish I had even a tenth of the answers that I do questions. I guess the best I can do is make an effort to live intentionally unashamed. I am making an unashamed list now.
Unashamed List:
I like Depeche Mode a lot
I'm pretty darn bisexual
Ani Difranco kicks ass
I'm over weight
I like being naked in a non-sexual way
Most people would say that I'm whipped because I do a lot of stuff for my wife
I've done a lot of writing over the years and some with very little skill or talent, but it's how I was feeling at the time.
Weird Al is a genious
I'm dyslexic
I love comics (and not just walking dead comics)
I quite enjoy having as much sex as possible with my wife
I love ballet and other forms of dance
oh and I just installed Chicken Invaders in my computer. . .
And so we know the correct things to feel shame about
Shame List:
I was a complete dick to Mark C at my 12th birthday party because I didn't want the girls to think I liked toys and he got me a toy
I broke up with Jacky S that same year because people teased me about going out with her
I cheated on a Spanish test in 10th grade
I put the "moves" on my friend Nicole E. when I was 20ish and it was a violation of trust for our friendship
I get angry too easily and when I'm angry I get a bit scary
I'm sure I could go on further with both lists, but I think making the list is a really way to get myself started living intentionally unashamed of things that don't hurt anyone.