The Year of Bravery

Everyone everywhere is too embarrassed about everything, all the time, and it’s taking away from our quality of life. 

Shame is literally bad for your health. Research by June Tangney of George Mason University has shown that shame-proneness can increase one’s risk for other psychological problems, particularly depression. A study published by PubMed reiterated this just last year. If we know this feeling is bad for us, why do we keep feeling this way?

Technically, embarrassment exists to alert us when we have done something socially unacceptable. We feel bad, and then we don’t do it again. However, we are experiencing far too much embarrassment and shame than is useful. We might feel embarrassed about the way we look, the way our voice sounds or the way we walk. None of these things are causing any social harm, and they are often completely unnoticed by our peers. If embarrassment is nothing more than making us feel bad about ourselves, then we need to start finding ways to eliminate it. 

I would like to propose that you join me in my Year of Bravery. 

Accepting the Year of Bravery means not saying no to something on the grounds of embarrassment or fear (within reason.) It means being a little bit uncomfortable and finding a way to get comfortable with it. We are not actually doing anything dangerous; we are just doing things our brain has tricked us into thinking are dangerous. The Year of Bravery means starting the band you’ve been threatening to start since middle school. It means auditioning for the MFA spring show with absolutely no prior dance audition experience. It means volunteering to go first in Intro Hip Hop. It means telling your friend about the crush you’ve been harboring for years. The Year of Bravery is about getting okay with rejection. It means trying for the sake of trying. 

Bravery is not the opposite of embarrassment. You can be embarrassed and brave. You can do it scared. Sometimes, being brave can be embarrassing. But being brave forces you to act in ways your embarrassment would otherwise tell you are unacceptable. 

I proposed the Year of Bravery to my friend Ellie back in January, and it has really taken off. I called her this morning to ask what she had done in the past two months in the name of the Year of Bravery, and I couldn’t be more impressed. 

Despite having never taken an art class, Ellie enrolled in one this semester. The beginner class was full, and she was bumped into the advanced class. She was nervous and uncomfortable, and her inner monologue had disappeared, replaced by one thousand screams. “But,” she tells me, “it’s my favorite class this semester, even though it’s the one that scares me the most.” 

If that wasn’t enough, she also asked out her crush. After several confusing weeks of going in circles and overthinking their relationship, Ellie decided that the next time she hung out with her cute French friend, she was going to ask them out. By the time the evening came, she really didn’t want to do it anymore, but: Year of Bravery. Ellie walked outside, saying to herself out loud, “You are brave. You are strong.” 

She told them. And they rejected her (ever so kindly), and it is OKAY! Sure, a relationship would have been cool, but there was also value in the experience of telling someone how you feel. After a day of awkwardness, they have resumed their friendship, stronger than ever before, because Ellie isn’t overthinking it anymore.

For me, the Year of Bravery has been about learning to be okay with being single and committing myself to hobbies or interests that used to feel daunting. I’m playing the drums again. I’m in a band. I’m writing for the Sophian! And I am not redownloading Hinge. 

I played the drums in high school, but never committed myself to them as much as I would have liked. After a few lessons, the kit in my basement was abandoned. This semester, I joined the Smith College Music Collective, which meets every Sunday. It’s an open jam, and for two hours we play without any rehearsal or plan. It was my first time behind a drum kit in two years, and I’ve been having a blast. I don’t even know the names of all the drums, and I know maybe three beats, but it’s been fun, and the people are supportive, and that’s all that really matters. 

The Year of Bravery has been a really helpful jumping-off point for me, but I’ve also realized that as I get older, I get braver without having to think about it as much. The Year of Bravery doesn’t have to be just one year. There are no rules and no required structure. I don’t find new things to be embarrassed about anymore because I know myself better than ever before. I am growing up, and it is making me braver. 

I like to perform. Being the center of attention doesn’t scare me. Those all-consuming feelings of shame I used to have for just existing have started to go away as I’ve gotten older. I am less afraid. And because I am less afraid, I get to do more.