Shaming and Blaming Brian Manternach (bio) THE INDEPENDENT TEACHER INTRODUCTION Years ago, I attended a lecture given by a prominent voice pedagogue. During his presentation, he asked those of us in attendance to stand up and point to the lowest area in our bodies that we believe the diaphragm reaches during inhalation. I stood and pointed to my lower belly. Then he encouraged us to look around the room and check our answers. I noticed some people with answers similar to mine, others who were pointing to a higher area in their bodies, and a few who decided not to venture a guess. After some time passed, the presenter shook his head and chuckled. He asked us to sit down and proceeded to explain, in a tone that I heard as rife with condescension, the "physical impossibility" that the diaphragm could descend to the lower abdomen. It felt to me like those of us who were wrong were being scolded. I quickly wished I had been one of the people who had decided not to stake a claim on the issue. Nevertheless, the tone for the presentation was set and I kept my guesses to myself for the remainder of the talk. That day, I learned something new about the respiratory system that I have never forgotten. I also learned how it feels when you offer what you believe to be an educated assumption and are ridiculed for doing so. SHAMING I have thought about my experience in that presentation many times in the 15 years since it happened. Primarily, I wondered why I reacted so strongly and had such a visceral objection to that method of teaching. Am I just too sensitive? Does my reaction say more about my own insecurities than it does about the way this particular pedagogue delivers information? I understand the importance of acting on the best knowledge we have at any given time. I also understand that, since no one can know everything, we have to be OK with being wrong once in a while. This presentation certainly highlighted at least one anatomic fact that I did not know. Why was I not just grateful to have the new information? I started to gain some perspective on this experience as I began to explore the work of author and "shame researcher" Brené Brown. Brown, PhD, LMSW, is a research professor at the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work, but is likely best known for her frequently viewed TED talks and for authoring multiple books that have reached number one on the New York Times bestseller list. Her popular work clearly has struck a chord in mainstream culture. [End Page 103] Brown defines shame as "the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing we are flawed and therefore unworthy of acceptance and belonging."1 When we experience shame, she says, we are steeped in the fear of being ridiculed or diminished. We are afraid that we have exposed or revealed a part of us that jeopardizes our connection to others.2 Looking back at that presentation, I wonder if the pedagogue intended to shame those in attendance. I wonder why he did not simply say, "It's a common misconception that the diaphragm descends into the lower abdomen when we inhale," which would have presented the information without publicly calling out those of us who did not yet know that. Is there justification for the tactic he chose? Brown addresses this question, describing that much of her own formal education emphasized the notion that "You CANNOT shame or belittle people into changing their behaviors."3 Through her research, however, she has come to amend that belief. Now she proposes that shame and humiliation can indeed be used to change behavior. But the problem she discovered is that those behavioral changes do not last. In addition, shame inflicts pain that has the potential to scar both the person using shame and the person being shamed.4 Brown acknowledges that some researchers believe that two types of shame exist: "healthy shame," which can serve as a motivator, and the more negative "toxic shame." Brown, however, disagrees with this concept, noting that her own research...
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