47 pages • 1 hour read
Brené BrownA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
In Chapter 10 (Guidepost 7), Brown and her husband, Steve, compare two lists. One list is titled “ingredients for joy and meaning” and is filled with items that enhance wholehearted living and the enjoyment of life, such as meaningful work and “time to piddle, time with family and close friends, alone time, and time to just hang out” (132). The other list is titled “the dream list” and features the professional and material accomplishments that the Browns hope to acquire (132). The common denominator undergirding this second list was that the Browns would have to spend increased time working to earn more money. This list of items to strive for did nothing to make their lives more fulfilling in the moment, and the Browns ultimately concluded that prioritizing the wholehearted-living list would mean “actually living our dream—not striving to make it happen in the future, but living it right now” (132). However, deciding to adopt the wholehearted-living list felt countercultural, as they were going against the ideology of incessant productivity and achievement that they had learned since childhood. Indeed, their children, still in elementary school at this stage, complained that they were not doing as many extracurriculars as their overscheduled friends, and the Browns privately worried that curtailing these might mean that their children would not make their first-choice colleges down the road. Thus, their decision felt like a risk.
Arguably, the Browns’ two lists reflect different understandings of the American Dream. What Brown terms “wholehearted living” is a form of self-determination: The research subjects who embrace it seek to live up to their own ideals, regardless of the circumstances of their birth and the expectations of the society they grew up in. However, striving to be the best version of oneself can slide into an attempt to be as successful as one can possibly be, as defined by societal metrics. Thus, an academically gifted person might devote all their time to research so that they can win a coveted position, even if this means demoting other aspects of life that are essential to their happiness. It is this second interpretation of the American Dream that Brown implies has become the most pervasive, as Americans put off what gives them joy in favor of productivity, accomplishment, and material acquisition. In a culture of constant comparison, the metric for achievement is set out not by oneself but by a capitalist society’s insatiable drive for more: Paradoxically, it therefore precludes the self-definition, confidence, and ease that the American Dream promises.
Brown cites the toxic consequences of feeling that we are not enough and of having to define our dreams in relation to other people’s: These include continual dissatisfaction, exhaustion, and a lack of fulfilment that leads to addictive and numbing behaviors. She shows how Americans self-medicate against being overstretched, overtired, and underconfident with food, alcohol, and a variety of other distractions, including social media. These behaviors are evidence that the idea of the Dream as nonstop productivity, social cachet, and achievement is unsustainable. Brown argues that America is “a nation […] starving from a lack of gratitude” (111), meaning that Americans’ constant comparison of themselves to others and resulting sense of inadequacy lead to never being content with the amount one has and can realistically digest. Thus, instead of investing in the few pursuits that nourish their individual beings, Americans continually strive for more—a vicious cycle that perpetually staves off the feeling of sufficiency that would cure their internal unrest.
While Brown nudges readers toward reinterpreting the American Dream as a vision of self-fulfillment and sufficiency, she acknowledges the difficulty of doing this in a culture that values productivity and acquisition. To succeed in bucking the trend of exhaustion and overcommitment, she observes, we must be clear about our own values and live in the truth of why they are important to us.
Going against common assumptions, Brown argues that fitting in and belonging are not interchangeable. Whereas fitting in means conforming to society’s predetermined standards of acceptability and thereby minimizing friction by not standing out, true belonging entails allowing ourselves to be seen for who we really are and connecting to others from that point of authenticity. Indeed, aiming to fit in always separates us from the grounded resilience that emerges from true belonging, as we are always one social gaffe away from being exposed for our true selves and found lacking. While fitting in might lend us the aura of popularity or agreeableness, hiding our quirks ensures that we are never really seen by others and therefore always stand to feel isolated. In contrast, true belonging—showing up as ourselves and thereby unconsciously giving others the permission to do the same—facilitates real compassion and connection, two of the tenets of wholehearted living.
While Brown’s research clearly shows the benefits of being ourselves, she acknowledges the difficulty of doing so in a world that expects differently. By the time we reach adulthood, most of us are enmeshed in a network of relationships with people who expect us to behave in a certain way. Those in our personal and professional lives can be thrown off if we suddenly decide to relinquish the people-pleasing they have become accustomed to in favor of showing up with marked preferences and boundaries. They may miss taking advantage of our leniency as our new standards force them to renegotiate their relationship to us.
On the other hand, our newfound authenticity may be confronting for them, forcing them to consider how far they have betrayed their true selves in the mission of fitting in. As Brown writes, if we have betrayed ourselves by prioritizing fitting in or seeming in control, we often find unabashed freedom in others intolerable. This also explains why parents who strive to conform are quick to shut down expressions of eccentricity in their children. Brown provides an example of this in Chapter 13, discussing how she was embarrassed by her daughter Ellen’s spontaneous dancing in the mall before a group of “gorgeous” mothers and their “matching” daughters. The daughters had noticed Ellen’s dancing and were on the verge of making a cruel remark about it. While Brown, who was insecure about her own dirty hair and unkempt appearance, was tempted to shoot her daughter a “diminishing look” and thereby “save [her]self by betraying Ellen” (157), she opted instead to join in with the dancing. With this anecdote, Brown emphasizes that authenticity—like creativity and many of the other qualities she discusses—is not a stable character trait but a series of moment-to-moment decisions. This makes it more accessible to readers, who might relate to both Brown’s hesitance and courage in the moment. She also alludes to the responsibility we have to allow our children to be themselves, allowing readers to imagine the potentially scarring effect on Ellen if her mother had joined the bullies in diminishing her.
Though much of Brown’s discussion of conformity focuses on broad societal standards, she also devotes some attention to the pressures people in particular demographics face to conform. She states that while her female research subjects reported being judged “out of hand” when they let loose and dared to take up more space, her male subjects felt restricted from the full range of human expression for fear of being seen as “out of control” by others (155). Such experiences demonstrate the differing effects of patriarchy, which asks women to curtail their pleasure and assertiveness in favor of being dainty and contained while deeming emotional expressiveness unmasculine. In her own professional life, Brown models authenticity by refusing to imitate the dour, middle-class male mold of how an academic should present. In both her speech and writing, Brown’s colloquialisms, exuberant expressions of emotion, and unapologetic embrace of spirituality in a largely secular field enable her to connect deeply with the audience that is most ready to hear her message.
Brown’s conclusion is that we stand to attain greater happiness and connection if we do not betray our true selves. Nevertheless, we must accept that doing so means sacrificing being universally liked and respected.
The theme of shame as an obstacle to wholehearted living appears throughout Brown’s book. While many of us treat guilt and shame as interchangeable, Brown makes this important distinction between the emotions: “Guilt = I did something bad. Shame = I am bad” (55). Whereas guilt adheres to a specific action and informs us that we have betrayed our own values, shame is our perception that we are unworthy of being loved as we truly are. Of the two emotions, guilt is the better impetus to change, as we seek to amend a particular behavior in line with the kind of person we want to be. By contrast, shame keeps us stuck in a cycle of limiting beliefs and destructive behaviors because it conflates those beliefs and behaviors with who we fundamentally are. Brown observes that many people try to stave off shame by engaging in perfectionism, thinking that if they only accomplish enough, they can outrun feelings of inadequacy. However, perfectionism can mean that we lead limited lives, as we are afraid to try new things in case we fail. We might also try to cope with shame by putting up a veneer of conformity and burying any stories where we failed to live up to others’ expectations. In the long run, however, Brown contends that all of these coping mechanisms are doomed because they merely widen the gap between our public persona and the secret self we feel is shameful. Ironically, the less we are willing to acknowledge shame, either to ourselves or to others, the more we experience it.
Brown’s research suggests that secrecy is a fertilizer for shame because it causes us to reject our true selves, thereby isolating us. In our state of isolation, the story of the shameful incident grows out of proportion, affecting our subsequent self-perception and future behavior. Instead, we must take the counterintuitive approach and share our shameful story with someone who will receive it in a compassionate way and give us perspective. Brown acknowledges that not everyone is an appropriate confidant. In fact, she makes a comprehensive eight-item list of behaviors that make people unworthy of our cringing tales, including judging, sympathizing, blaming, minimizing, fixing, and outdoing. In providing such an ample list, Brown implicitly instructs the reader in how not to respond to others’ tales of shame. All of the listed methods leave the teller with the impression that they have not been listened to, further isolating them with their shame. As Brown summarizes, “It’s hard to practice compassion when we’re struggling with our own authenticity or when our own worthiness is off balance” (16). In deploying the above strategies, we seek to protect ourselves from the teller’s shame by employing a distancing tactic, such as posing as an authority figure who can fix the situation. As a counter, Brown presents her sister Ashley’s helpful response, which was to be compassionate and connect Brown’s experiences to her own. Without seeking to outdo Brown in the misery stakes, Ashley made herself vulnerable enough to offer her sister true companionship, reassuring her that, contrary to what shame was making her believe, she was not alone.
To facilitate such interactions, Brown attempts to destigmatize the acknowledgment of shame by showing that it is a natural human emotion and emphasizing that people who never feel it lack empathy and the capacity for connection. The mental and physiological symptoms that accompany shame, such as blushing, raised heartbeat, or stooped posture, are a warning sign that we are risking rejection and all the negative consequences that this entails. Thus, shame’s function is to precede rejection and keep us small and silent enough to fit in with the group. Shame can appear in any place where we risk failing social expectation, and its ubiquity means that we are better off recognizing it and becoming resilient to it. In spotlighting shame and showing how our upbringings and educations have given us the wrong tools for dealing with it, Brown seeks to offer a mass reeducation in shame resilience, giving us all a better chance at wholehearted living.
By Brené Brown
Common Reads: Freshman Year Reading
View Collection
Health & Medicine
View Collection
Mental Illness
View Collection
New York Times Best Sellers
View Collection
Philosophy, Logic, & Ethics
View Collection
Pride & Shame
View Collection
Psychology
View Collection
Religion & Spirituality
View Collection
Self-Help Books
View Collection