Is choosing vulnerability a privilege?
Accounting for supremacy culture when answering the call to "Choose vulnerability over fear.”
I love a sensitive question. That’s a good thing - friends, clients, and acquaintances often reach out to me when they’re seeking perspectives and support around healing, trauma-informed practices, being on the autism spectrum, and the like.
Yesterday, my friend texted me, Do you think the space to act from a place of vulnerability is a privilege? And immediately following, “Or, perhaps less labor and brain intensive: do you know where I can read more about this topic?” I have lovely friends, it’s true.
Right off the bat, my response to her initial query was, Yes, I think so. And from there, we add evidence, nuance and clarification.
First off, every person is unique, and each individual situation is different. That said, cultural phenomena follow certain observable patterns. After consideration, I think the question: How are vulnerability and privilege connected? is a good place to start getting curious. Adding the word “how” almost always yields more generative results than a binary yes/no inquiry.
So, exploring interactions between privilege and vulnerability…If a person doesn’t have the privileges required to meet their basic needs (e.g., food, housing, medical care, and safety - emotional & physical), they’re likely to be more vulnerable to the forces around them than people who do have these needs met.
I’m now using the term vulnerability in two ways:
As the elemental capacity to be harmed -- I think immediately of a year when, due to a late frost, my cousin Erin was unable to harvest and sell berries in her substantial berry patch. The young buds were vulnerable to the frost, which destroyed them. As living beings, we all have the capacity to be rendered vulnerable to harm regardless of our preference.
Vulnerability as a choice - a way of being. Brené Brown is well-known for championing vulnerability as an alternative to being motivated by fear and self-protection. Brown says, “Vulnerability is a right - not a privilege.”
Fundamentally, I don’t disagree with Brené Brown. Practically speaking, however, the statement begs for more parsing. The fact that someone has a right (or a need) does not equate to that right/need being fulfilled. And typically, whether our rights are acknowledged, respected, and upheld is the result of how privilege shakes out.
Sometimes when I write about topics like this, I get bogged down wondering how to make material like this accessible to people who don’t see things like I do.¹
And then I remind myself that, just like not everyone’s for me, I (and by extension, what I write) am not for everyone. This writing is here to support the minds and hearts of people who are curious about and/or invested in collective liberation. There’s no forcing a horse to drink, but I’ll gladly supply water to those who are interested.
Okay. Back to privilege and vulnerability and how they interact.
Grounded, intentional vulnerability is a skill. Whether people employ it depends on many factors; access to others modeling healthy vulnerability is one. It’s also, I think, connected to a person’s constitutional capacity and desire for vulnerable self-expression.² Critically, the decision to explore and practice the skill of choosing vulnerability hinges on access to cultural privileges that protect a person from potential backlash. After all, to make oneself vulnerable is to open oneself to injury.
In an Ecosia³ search on this topic, I found two thorough pieces written by Dr. Carey Yazeed, both of which bring cogent critiques of Brené Brown’s assertions on vulnerability.⁴
Dr. Yazeed writes for and about Black women and their experiences in American culture. It’s always a relief when I find someone who’s already articulated what I think I want to say. For example, she states,
“What many in mainstream society fail to understand is that Black women have always functioned from a position of vulnerability vs one of privilege as our white counterparts.”
Yazeed points to the ugly, violent, and persistent legacy of white supremacy and chattel slavery in the United States, specifically as it impacts Black women.
I’m a white, cis-presenting woman. I hold a lot of privilege (e.g. racially, socioeconomically, and with my thin, able body & conventionally attractive face).
While I’m protected from the violence directed towards BIPOC women (including & especially — trans women) in our culture, I’ve been harmed by the vulnerability that patriarchy has pushed upon my body, psyche, and spirit. This impacts whether and how I choose vulnerability - especially when men are present. In my personal experience, privilege and vulnerability are deeply interconnected.
The Wheel of Privilege and Power — adapted from work by James R Vanderwoerd ("Web of Oppression"), and Sylvia Duckworth ("Wheel of Power/Privilege")
I imagine that if Dr. Yazeed were to agree with Brené Brown’s assertion that vulnerability is a right, the agreement would be conditional. If vulnerability is a right, it’s one that can only be accessed when their basic needs are met.
Taking a trauma-informed stance, Yazeed writes,
“Before a person of any race can begin to embrace vulnerability and break their silence, two elements are needed: trust and safety.”
When we look at vulnerability as a skill or a choice, rather than an inherent right, it’s gained through practice (trial and error) and through the cultivation of safer relationships, spaces, and/or communities. To have access to spaces, relationships, and communities where vulnerability is likely to be met with care is to have access to greater privilege.
Like Brown, I suppose I do believe that it’s a human right to choose vulnerability. I also believe that a statement like this is most impactful and empowering when placed against a backdrop of honest cultural considerations.
If we lived in a world where everyone had their basic needs met (i.e., in conditions that create opportunities for a person to choose vulnerability, rather than be vulnerable to harm), I’d be more willing to accept the simple statement, “Vulnerability is a right, not a privilege.”
As it stands, the researcher in me observes a positive correlation between chosen vulnerability and privilege. The more cultural privilege a person holds, the more likely they are to choose to make themselves vulnerable in the name of connection (that is, if they’re interested in exploring vulnerability in the first place).
Returning to my friend’s initial query about whether having the space to choose vulnerability is a privilege, I take Dr. Yazeed’s words seriously:
“Yet, even in our silence, we are still afraid – afraid of the labels or worse – losing our jobs, not being promoted, being demoted, losing respect, internally forgetting our dignity and self worth, which leads to anxiety, depression, heart problems, a stroke, diabetes, or death.”
I’m curious to learn what you think and would be happy to see your thoughts in the comments.
Meanwhile, if you’re looking my a simple, binary answer to the question: Do you think the space to act from a place of vulnerability is a privilege?, the answer is yes.
If you connected with this piece, you might be interested in exploring The Greenhouse.
The Greenhouse is trauma-informed, neurodivergent-friendly group coaching container for healers & changemakers. The next cohort starts in late March.
I am CURIOUS!
Like the Substack post that I made the dubious decision to click on earlier today. In the video, DEI is Killing Americans, a young white woman (17 years old) speaks with the cadence of a Fox news pundit while interviewing and passionately agreeing with an anti-DEI Black man wearing a MAGA hat.
Personal experience as someone in this category, as well as observation of others, lead me to suggest this.
Ecosia is a great alternative to Google. They’ve planted over 2 million trees and donated nearly €100 million to addressing climate change.
Black Women and Vulnerability: What Brene Brown Got Wrong and The Dangers of Courage Culture and Why Brene Brown Isn’t For Black Folk are both by Dr. Carey Yazeed
