It’s 2018 and I’m trying to get my shit on lockdown and only read things that aren’t a waste of time. The trouble is that you gotta spend time to know that you’ve wasted it–so I started the year reading Brene Brown’s new book, Braving The Wilderness, because she’s done good work on vulnerability in the past, and honestly, the wilderness sounds cool in contrast to my stuffy apt which constantly smells of cat piss.
Brown gets praised for offering self-help supported by her own research, and taking self-help into a place it doesn’t usually explore: vulnerability. She states multiple times, in every book of hers,(see IThe Gifts of Imperfection and Daring Greatly) that she is a professional researcher who has dedicated her life to said understanding of vulnerability. The funny/ironic part of this is is that she isn’t really vulnerable…not in the way that I define it. She’s privileged. She’s able-bodied, white, with a supportive husband and children. She has a team of people to bounce her ideas off of, who keep her in check and force her to grow as a person. These circumstances allow her vulnerability that is largely self-chosen and boundaried, which is… the opposite of the vulnerability that I know, as a disabled person.–the kind of vulnerability that is not chosen or researched but lived.
Some of the semi-obvious ideas that Brene discusses as if there isn’t an entire population of ppl who have lived and learned from lifetimes of vulnerability are:
- Being vulnerable is rough but can be rewarding if you have good friends
- Honest living is courageous and lying is easier. (actually Brene, for some of us, honest living isn’t a choice, but a matter of circumstance, because we are physically limited and thus, tangibly vulnerable)
- Shared vulnerability is powerful (yes. There’s a reason all my friends are freaks like me. This seems so fucking obvious to me, but sure)
- Being true to yourself is worth it. (She could’ve asked any of us if we’re true to ourselves and most of us would say yes, but not by choice, rather because society doesn’t accept us. Being true to self is all a lot of us have, duh)
After reading Braving, I’ve concluded that Brene could’ve saved herself a shitload of time and probably some research dollars, by asking disabled people how we’ve come this far. But, she didn’t. and the quality of her book suffers. She relies on a lot of the research she conducted but rarely states who her samples were and uses frequent personal anecdotes to make her arguments., which can be hard to extract from.
It’s disappointing because vulnerability research, in the form of easily digestible books such as this one, are desperately needed, but we need to start by asking people who experience lifelong vulnerabilities. Start at the margins, not at the heart of privilege.
On that negative note, Brown does make an important point about the unintuitive positive impacts of collective pain. She states that it’s just as important as collective joy, and I found that interesting enough to order Option B, which is a book on grief. If you wanna waste time sifting through it with me, it’s on Amazon for 18 bucks used. Don’t worry, this is not a paid endorsement.
If you know of something worth reading, let me know. Save me from my own shitty taste.