In her book Rising Strong, Brené Brown writes, “People who wade into discomfort and vulnerability and tell the truth about their stories are the real badasses.”
I recently had an opportunity to practice this kind of wading while serving as a facilitator at a weekend leadership academy for college students.
On Friday evening, we gathered for our first small group breakout session. We were tasked with unpacking the idea of vulnerability by sharing a “moment of consequence” which had impacted our life.
Preparing for this first session, I had reflected on what to share. How vulnerable should I be with these young men and women, all but one of whom I had never met before? In the hours and even minutes before, I still hadn’t fully decided. I paused, listened for the small, still voice of the divine, seeking guidance and wisdom.
As we gathered in our circle, there was a clarity and peace. When the time came for me to lead this particular conversation, I called upon my deepest courage and briefly shared the story of my sexual abuse, which I have previously written about here.
Listening to others share moments of consequence, the room held an aura of shelter; students seemed comfortable sharing a level or two deeper than they might have otherwise.
This story is not meant to illicit praise for my actions, but rather to highlight the power of vulnerability. The sharing which occurred that Friday evening is not any more brave than what happens in support groups such as Alcoholics Anonymous around the globe on a daily basis.
As I reflect on my own experiences, especially in religious communities, a question arises: Why is this type of vulnerability often limited to places like church basements rather than church sanctuaries? (Oh, the irony dripping from the last word of the previous sentence.) However, this deficiency extends far beyond the walls of church buildings. How many boardrooms and family rooms, coffee houses and bedrooms are equally suffering from a lack of vulnerability?
A brief word of warning. Vulnerability requires courage, but also wisdom. Offered to the wrong person, vulnerability can bring about great pain through misuse or even betrayal. Wisdom must be exercised when it comes to vulnerability. While the risk is usually worth it, be mindful of those who might yield it as a weapon.
As our weekend wrapped up, group members wrote notes to one another. In both those notes and comments made to me, several students mentioned how my vulnerability created an environment where they felt a little safer to share their stories. To borrow Brené’s words, it birthed a room of badasses and led to some incredible conversation and connection.
Birthing vulnerability will not always be easy, but the kind of authentic community which it brings to life is worth the risk.
