I hope you like this article I shared on “Shame” from Psychology Today that I read this morning. I copied the text below and also shared the link.
I’ve learned that shame may feel like it comes from deep inside me, but in truth, it often starts in the world around me — in the way people judge, label, or try to keep me “in my place.” I’ve come to see how groups, especially toxic narcissistic bullies, sometimes use shaming as a way to control, to strip away identity and chip at confidence.
I’ve thought a lot about the difference between being without shame, being unashamed, and being shameless as part of my situation. I remember moments in my life when I acted without knowing any “rules” I’d broken, when innocence was my only excuse, like in the workplace against baseless false accusations from Tenants. I’ve also had times when I knew my choices went against expectations, yet I stood by them. And yes, I’ve even pushed against norms just because I felt that defiance was mine to claim, especially in my personal life.
I know that shame is more than a passing embarrassment or private guilt. Embarrassment fades; guilt is a conversation I have with myself. Shame lingers — it can unsettle my sense of self and make me second-guess my place in the world. I’ve felt the way unspoken shame can live under the surface, shaping how I trust and how I react to others.
I’ve seen shaming up close: sarcasm meant to belittle, gossip that travels faster than truth, the icy weight of being ignored, and the outright cruelty of exclusion. I’ve felt how labels — ugly, stupid, racist, troublesome — can settle into the corners of my mind and refuse to leave. Sometimes those words come from people I loved and trusted, which only makes them harder to shake.
I understand now that there are different ways to carry shame. I’ve been discredited before, in various websites created for that purpose — where my differences lay bare for everyone to see — and I’ve also been discreditable, moving through life quietly guarding certain truths, wary of who might find out. Neither is easy, but I’ve learned that I don’t have to accept the labels others give me.
These days, I choose to live unashamed. I surround myself with people who understand what it means to be marked and who reject the idea that we should be diminished by it. I believe the best way to counter shame is to step fully into the light of my own truth and support others in doing the same. I remind myself — often — that I am not the worst thing I’ve done, nor the unkindest thing said about me. I am more.
Shame: Its Social Foundations | Psychology Today Canada
Shame: Its Social Foundations
Shame feels profoundly personal, but its causes lie elsewhere.
Key points
- Shame feels deeply personal, but its sources are essentially social.
- Groups use shaming as a form of social control, to despoil identity and weaken confidence.
- There are two kinds of shamed individuals: the discredited and the discreditable.
- Responding to shame means understanding and addressing the stigmatizing process.
Languages express the most subtle differences, at least when the speakers of those languages consider the differences important. In the case of English, consider the distinctions between three seemingly identical phrasings: “without shame,” “unashamed,” and “shameless.”
The first of these refers to a circumstance where a person—perhaps a young child or a visitor to a country—performs some forbidden act because they are entirely unaware of the customs of that society. Indeed, there is no reason why a very small child should conform to adult standards for behavior. Their innocence is charming. Older people will “socialize” them soon enough.
The latter two terms suggest that the actor has some knowledge of those customs. “Unashamed” people have done something that they understand violates the standards of other people; still, they feel their behavior was basically appropriate or reasonable. They make no apologies. They may even be proud of what they’ve done.
“Shameless” people add an additional twist. They take a certain pleasure in challenging public standards. Part of that satisfaction is the sense that their defiance is a bit “naughty” or “wrong.”
My point is that all of us routinely position ourselves amidst the standards of the groups we belong to. Most of the time, we conform to those expectations. But sometimes we don’t. And when our behaviors—or other personal qualities—vary enough, others may try to put us “in our place.” In extreme cases, they want us to feel bad about ourselves. Such is the mechanism of shaming.
Embarrassment, guilt, and shame as social emotions
Sociologist Thomas Scheff argues that “shame” (set against its opposite, “pride”) is a basic social emotion. Both are assessments of self, that is, comprehensions of how we stand at any time in relationships. Our feeling ashamed is a manifestation of our sense that we—not just as social actors but as individuals—have fallen in the public’s estimation. Somehow, we have been despoiled and are in danger of losing the places we are used to.
Pointedly, shame is a much more far-reaching emotion than “embarrassment.” Being embarrassed is mostly a situational disturbance. Something happens—perhaps we belch at a formal dinner or lose our train of thought giving a toast—that disrupts a social occasion and upsets people’s ideas about our competence. In response, they may ignore our slip or tactfully refocus everyone’s attention. Ideally, our disgrace is temporary, and no one imputes its cause to deeper personal failings.
“Guilt” denotes regrets we have about willfully controlled behaviors, not slips, but errors that may have damaged other people. Part of being human is saying and doing ill-considered things. So is having a conscience that alerts us to those failings. To have guilt is to feel the scrutiny of that private censor. Although others may not know, we admit to ourselves that we have violated our own sense of who we are.
Again, shame goes beyond situations and willful actions. It upsets our sense of personal integrity and hampers our ability to operate in many social settings. Often, we sense this new insecurity or reticence; however, commonly—and as Scheff stresses—shame may be “unacknowledged.” It becomes a lingering, dimly understood wound that makes us distrust others and lash out at those we perceive as threats.
Shaming mechanisms
In my college courses, I would sometimes ask students to discuss peer pressure. How do they keep their frequently irregular companions in line? Recalling those conversations here, I report that they use the same techniques the rest of us do.
When people irritate us or otherwise disrupt group harmony, we may ridicule them, not laughing with but at them. More pointedly, we may tease them to unbalance their footing. Sarcasm is a useful ploy. Physical humiliation, such as ruffling hair or other rough handling, helps with the verbally intransigent.
Behind the scenes is gossip, the circulation of information (true or not) that weakens the offender’s general standing. Internet culture magnifies those possibilities. Alternatively, the victim may find themselves subject to the “silent treatment” or other forms of ignoring. Worst, perhaps, they may experience banishment. The group goes about its business; the deviant is left behind. We criticize the young for their “Fear of Missing Out.” But none of us appreciates being cut loose.
Interestingly, it always took the students quite a while to say that they sometimes confront the disruptor and discuss the issue directly. Few want to “tell them off” or “get into it” with them. Much easier, or so it seems, is to try the other techniques listed above.
It’s worth emphasizing that gentle forms of embarrassing, teasing, and shaming—at least when done by peers—are not a bad thing. Sometimes, we need “correction” for our rude or more foolish behaviors. Peer pressure, which restores feelings of equality and commitment to the group, is that vehicle.
Problems arise when people gang up on someone, and the invectives become deeply personal. Equally despicable is bullying, when a stronger or better-positioned person exploits a weaker one. And perhaps the worst examples are authority figures—teachers, coaches, and parents—who abuse their privileges by castigating those who depend on them.
In essence, shame is a public label, a black mark on identity. When administered by people we care about, those labels—stupid, ugly, troublesome, thoughtless, or unlovable—are very difficult to shed. Who among us doesn’t harbor insecurities about our character and capabilities, hesitancies we carry for a lifetime?
Responding to shame
Consider here two different types of shamed people: the discredited (those who have been identified publicly) and the discreditable (those whose social failing is yet to be known). That distinction, the reader may recall, is central to what remains America’s greatest novel on shame, The Scarlet Letter. Hawthorne’s protagonist, Hester Prynne, whose adultery and pregnancy are public record, must display the “A” on her clothing all her days. Her lover, the minister Dimmesdale, continues to hide his paternity until the last moments of life, when a much more mysterious “A” is found on his skin. There is, it seems, a difference between “being shamed” and “being ashamed.”
That same theme dominates Erving Goffman’s important book Stigma: Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity. Discredited people face the task of dealing with what is already imputed to them. However, they need not accept the full implications of that identity. They may compensate for people’s perceptions by being accomplished in other ways (Hester Prynne becomes a fine seamstress). They may support similarly stigmatized people (she performs acts of charity). They can form communities of concern and share life experiences.
They can show that the past is behind them, indeed, is irrelevant to the person they are now. They can put the lie to the proposition that they should have been stigmatized in the first place. Most importantly, they can declare that they live unashamed.
By contrast, the discreditable live each day wondering who knows and who doesn’t. They carefully manage their secret, sharing with some and not others. They may try to “pass” as the unstigmatized (as Dimmesdale does), but they always monitor their appearance and behavior for inadvertent tells. Sometimes, they attack the openly stigmatized so that “normals” will believe that they are conforming members of that dominant group.
Scheff’s point is that Goffman’s techniques work only partially. The more significant (and more deeply hidden) forms of shame are hard to erase. The best course is to live one’s life as openly as possible, renounce the stigmatizing process, and support a world where people are kinder to one another.
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