It's Time to Bring Back Shame!

Maybe we were a little too quick to throw it away?

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With the “surprisingly high” COVID numbers across the country and the closing of summer, my Covid-10 anxiety has begun to increase, which has also led to me reflecting on the shutdown. After surviving several months, fearing that I could die from COVID-19 and an extremely stressful period at work, I finally decided to start therapy. It’s one of the best decisions I have ever made, and part of therapy is digging into your past to better understand how you may show up in the present. This post is a little bit of that.

 High school wasn’t a blast. Sure, there were moments of extreme highs, like when I made Varsity on the basketball team, but there were also moments that felt so low it seemed impossible to ever climb myself out of my hole.  It’s clear to me now that we all experience our teen years in a series of capstones, intense feelings, and lessons learned. But, in those early days, it felt like things were only happening to me. I decided, like I did often in those days, to take action.

Fueled by the manufactured realities of teen movies in the early 2000s and YA novels about the struggles of upper-middle-class and rich white kids, I declared that sophomore year [Redacted] high school would be my rise to power. I would tell the funniest jokes, talk to the cutest girls, stand up to all the bullies, and become popular. 

A few weeks into the semester, I got my first opportunity. It was midday, and students were hanging out in the cafeteria during a free period. I was wearing a Seattle Seahawks jersey that a friend had given to me and a fresh pair of black knockoff Nike Airmax sneakers. Instead of the Nike check sign on the side, my sneaker showcased an acrylic question mark outlined in blood red. If that weren’t bad enough, the back of the shoe had  “Sky Max” written on it. I didn’t want to wear the sneakers, but they were my only shoes, so it was this or nothing. I wore them that day, knowing someone would eventually try me.

Surprisingly, no one seemed particularly interested in my attire, sure, a few people noticed the question mark, and laughed. But that was to be expected, despite the lack of response, I was convinced there would be an issue, and on edge. My skin was on fire with tension as I waited for someone to say anything.  About halfway through the period, I started to get antsy; there was a chance I could make it out of this situation without any conflict! The silence was beginning to be painful when I finally got my wish. 

Tek, a kid in my grade but in a different class, walked into the room and saw my sneakers. He was known as one of the smoothest and best-dressed kids in school. He always had the latest pair of Jordans, a fresh cut, and an easy smile. He was also known for being one of the funniest people around, so if he decided to focus on you, the jokes were gonna fly. He did a double take at my “sky max” before barely holding in a laugh and composing himself. After a minute or so, he looked at me and said, “Stan, we gotta take you shopping.”

The entire room erupted in laughter. Tek tried to say something else, but I wasn’t about to let that happen; this was my moment to shine. So right there, in a room full of people, I challenged him to a fight after school. At first, he laughed, but I was determined, calling him every name in the book until his mood darkened. The fight was on; we would be meeting after the final period.

So here’s the thing, I knew I couldn’t beat Tek, but I was tired of being the butt of every joke. I felt like a joke at home, like a joke at school, and now he was giving me a chance to show that I was very serious. 

Unfortunately for me, as the day progressed, my adrenalin wore off, and I started to process the situation I had gotten myself into.  Tek, at the tender age of 15, was already 6’2, well-fed, and seasoned in the art of throwing hands. I was 5’8, musty, and had a chip on my shoulder; it was honorable but definitely not enough. My friends tried to talk me out of my decision, but I refused to budge. 

They must have thought I had finally snapped, and after multiple tries, they resigned themselves to believing I was ready for war. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Internally, I was losing my shit. There was no way I could beat this guy! But I challenged him in front of the whole school so no one would ever forget it if I backed out.

 An hour before the clock struck three, I spiraled a bit. Tek was a nice guy and probably didn’t mean any harm, but I had taken things to a place I wasn’t sure I could walk back. I was afraid of what might happen in that fight, but I was more terrified of the response if I tried to apologize and leave. I was prepared, even ok with getting punched in the face, but I drew the line at having to face the shame I would feel if folks laughed at me. At 3:00 pm, Tek and about 50 bloodthirsty students took the short walk across the street so he could cash the check that I wrote. 

He dropped his book bag, handed his chain to his girlfriend, and faced me in a fighting stance. I didn’t know a teenager could look so imposing. My stomach dropped to my knees, and my mouth turned to cotton. I could feel the fear turning my limbs into ice, so I charged him before I could freeze in the biggest moment of my life. We crashed into each other, throwing punches back and forth; despite my many disadvantages, I could stay on my feet. The fight lasted 60 seconds; we broke apart, and realizing that I hadn’t outright lost, I started to feel confident. Then Tek surprised us all by asking for a “time out.” 

I was shocked; who calls a “timeout” during a fight? I let him know as much but obliged. Something had gotten in Tek’s eye during our brawl, and he felt he couldn’t continue. The fight ended. Tek had saved me from myself. 

Tek and I eventually talked and laughed about this ordeal, neither wanting to fight but feeling backed in. The experience taught me not to be so quick to jump to action. Tek learned that sometimes you have to take a loss so that everyone can win. This B-side memory is important because it allows us to talk about shame. 

Shame can be incredibly powerful. It led Tek and I to agree to a fight neither of us wanted. But what if we could live in a world where shame didn’t have so much control? It’s possible; the first step is to stop acting like it doesn’t exist. We all feel shame; sometimes, we will lie, gaslight, or delude ourselves and others to avoid that shadow in the room. The shame is real. We all feel it and run from it, some more than others. Now that we have acknowledged that, we can learn to understand it. 

According to Webster's Dictionary, shame is “a painful emotion caused by the consciousness of guilt, shortcoming, or impropriety.” my shame manifests most through my fear of failure. It’s pushed me to work hard, always seek to learn, and find opportunities to challenge myself. It’s also brought me deep pain; I’m afraid not to know, so I try to understand everything; when I fall short of that, I sometimes feel like it’s a reflection of me as a person. To avoid that feeling I have made excuses, I have blamed others, and in some instances I have even refused to try. That shame has driven me to speak harshly to myself and refuse grace or basic human comforts, and when you give no care to yourself, what can you possibly give to others?

When I acknowledged what shame was and learned how it showed up for me, it opened a door of new possibilities. I have more space for empathy, I’m kinder to myself, and because my heart is lighter I can bring kindness to others. Have I conquered shame? Absolutely not; it will always cast a large shadow in the room of my mind, and because of that, I will fall short. But the difference between knowing shame and acting like it doesn’t exist is that when those moments come, I know I am not my shortcomings; I have unlimited potential to do and improve. You are not your failures, you are not defined by shame, let’s stop allowing it to rule us.