All the most important, life-changing, powerful conversations require vulnerability, yet men are discouraged from even experimenting with the V-word.
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I want you to take a moment. Think back to the conversations you’ve had over the course of your life that were important.
Those conversations that made it feel like time was standing still.
Those conversations in which, maybe you were strangers when it started, but you felt like soul mates when it was over.
Those conversations that left you awe struck.
Those conversations that changed the course of your life.
Those conversations that were transformational, moving, and seared into your memory as a life-changing event.
This is a powerful conversation.
Maybe it was with a teacher. Maybe it was with your freshman-year roommate. Maybe it was with the guy who invited you into your fraternity, or to your church, or who inspired you to quit your job. Maybe it was on an airplane. Maybe it was with your spouse as you considered having children. Maybe it was with a homeless person. Maybe it was over a beer. Maybe it was with a dying parent.
Think about all those powerful conversations that have shaped you, and realize that at least one person (likely all) involved was demonstrating a significant level of vulnerability.
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These conversations shape us. They feel magical. But what if I told you they weren’t magical at all? What if I told you that most people can think of a handful of these powerful conversations they’ve had over the course of their life, but I can tell you about the handful I’ve had this week? What if there was a single secret ingredient that is readily available to you that would give you the power to create these powerful moments of connection at will? That one thing?
Vulnerability.
Yep. That’s it. Think about all those powerful conversations that have shaped you, and realize that at least one person (likely all) involved was demonstrating a significant level of vulnerability.
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I know. Vulnerability is scary. From the moment we’re born, North American men are trained to be like angry lumberjacks—silent, indestructible, and gruff. We’re taught to avoid vulnerability (I think that’s kind of the reason The Good Men Project came into being). We’re taught men should not be vulnerable.
That sucks though, doesn’t it? All the most important, life-changing, powerful conversations require vulnerability, yet men are discouraged from even experimenting with the V word.
Well screw it. I’m not going to allow powerful conversations to be sacrificed simply because most people are a little uncomfortable with a higher level of personal openness.
My friend Jessica Gendron Williams, CEO of The Social Excellence Project, teaches that relationships aren’t built until the moment someone is vulnerable. I’m not willing to sacrifice relationships just because I’m supposed to be afraid of emotions.
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After a while, you’ll actually understand each other, influence each other, move each other, care about each other.
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Here’s how I recommend being vulnerable. Don’t just start crying. Don’t take this as permission to dump all your problems on other people. Don’t start whining. This isn’t Oprah’s couch.
Just open the door a little. Build a bridge, not a wall. Allow people to see a little peek inside so that they can know you’re real. When they know you’re real, they’ll open up their door a little.
Keep going. After a while, you’ll actually understand each other, influence each other, move each other, care about each other.
When you’re hanging out with your boys, talking about the surface level B.S. you spend most of your time talking about, direct the conversation to something a hint deeper. When you’re at the water cooler talking about reality TV, steer the chatter to something that matters to you. When you notice someone hurting, let them know that you’ve hurt before, too.
If vulnerability is the one common ingredient in all of your life’s most important conversations, then why aren’t you trying to insert vulnerability in more parts of your life?
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Image credit: Emily Rachel Hildebrand/flickr
Vulnerability can be heroic act which can inspire heroism in others. Admitting fears is one of the hardest things that a man can do.
Heroism is the preferred way that men can heal and a vulnerable disclosure can initiate a call in others to the heroes journey.
For me the only response that the sacred masculine can give to the questions of feminism is to transform ourselves into heroes.
Join the conversation at the department for heroism:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/DeptHeorism/?ref=br_tf
It would be more plausible to see invulnerability as illusion rather than vulnerability, as proposed. Men, as part of the social gender construct, and who are taught as young boys not to feel (or that they may only have limited feelings), will have a tremendously difficult time identifying their emotions and feelings, or sharing them, as adult men. After a life time of repressing and being non-emotive, expressing feelings can be threatening, can be scary, even terrifying for men. True, feelings are feelings, but they are not simple. And, “feeling” vulnerable makes vulnerability itself “a feeling.” One perspective on vulnerability… Read more »
One more time. I should write up a form letter about this, because it’s getting monotonous. Anyway: It is not helping anyone to keep talking about emotional sharing in terms of “vulnerability.” Asking men or telling men to be more vulnerable is not a good way to encourage them to participate in different ways. If you keep associating feelings with “vulnerability” then you’re still trapped in the mindset of treating feelings as threats or risks or weakness. That’s just reinforcing the idea that sharing feelings is supposed to be scary. Telling a man over and over again that it’s brave… Read more »