The best way to describe the
modern social media struggle
comes from my fifth-generation
Texan upbringing: it’s a s***
show. I always thought I’d reach a point
in my life and my career where social
media got easier and cruel comments
didn’t bother me. For better and worse, I
now know that that day is never coming.
I could stop reading comments altogether,
but then I wouldn’t get to reply to, and
connect with, the 99 per cent of people
who are wonderful and who teach me so
much about myself and the world.
Here’s the rub: we are neurobiologically
hardwired for connection. When we stop
caring what anyone thinks, we diminish
our opportunities for connection, and
we’ve got a far bigger problem than a
belittling remark. Yet, when we allowourselves to be defined by what
people think, we lose our capacity for
authenticity and courage.
Twenty years of studying vulnerability,
courage, empathy and shame has given
me emotional X-ray vision. When I see
someone issue a posturing, blustery
“I don’t give a damn what anyone
thinks!” speech, I can see the pain
dripping off their 12-year-old self. It’s
not true because it’s not how we’re built.
And if you develop skin so thick that
you start to lose the ability to be hurt,
you’re at risk of feeling nothing at all.
I’m working hard to walk through the
world without armour and masks. Some
days I let go of the self-protection because
I’m brave, and sometimes because it’s just
too heavy to lug around. Either way, being
free of what I hide behind – perfectionism,Whenwe allowourselves tobe defined bywhat peoplethink, we loseour capacityfor couragecynicism, people pleasing – means more
joy, connection and intimacy. And,
inevitably, it means more hurt. Can a
comment or an unfollow or a mean
tweet really break our hearts? No.
Heartbreak is a function of love. But
the social media vitriol can make us feel
small, ashamed, embarrassed or enraged.
I’ve tried a couple of social-media-
hurt-reduction strategies over the past
two years. The first turned out pretty
awful: I responded. That sounds
innocent enough, but when you study
vulnerability in people for a living, and
you have CIA-level reconnaissance
research skills, as well as a surprisingly
deep capacity for verbally beating the
crap out of people who hurt you or hurt
the people you love, it’s devastating.
When we fire back and have to bear
witness to our own cruelty – to watch
ourselves brandish name-calling,
humiliation or ridicule as a weapon
against another human being – that can
crush our self-respect.
The second strategy I came up with
was to limit the posts that draw the most
venomous reactions. Unfortunately,
these are posts about social justice and
human rights issues. I’ve seen many
friends and colleagues opt out of taking
a stand, because there’s really no winning.
As someone who has been attacked by
both the far right and the far left, I can
tell you, if “winning” is your goal, opt
out now. But I don’t post about social
justice issues to win. I post because
staying silent about dehumanising
refugees, separating families, diminishing
the dignity of people because of who
they are, who they love, or where they
come from, makes me complicit.
Make no mistake, choosing comfort
over standing up for what we believe
is true and important will sever our
connections to ourselves. Why? Because
we must belong to ourselves before we
belong anywhere else. When we betray
ourselves to fit in, be liked, not cause
problems, avoid discomfort, sidestep
conflict, or not disappoint people, we
break our own hearts. Unfollowing your
beliefs for others is the real threat.
The only foolproof strategy I’ve come
up with so far is this: owning our story,
owning what we believe, and loving
ourselves is the bravest thing we’ll ever
do. Do the world a favour: speak your
truth. Follow your wild heart. nBrené Brown, researcher and expert on vulnerabilityand courage, on coping with social media crueltyThe only unfollowthat broke my heartPETER YANGVIEWPOINT09-19-BreneBrown.indd 188 08/07/2019 11:46
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