Revealing and Rejecting the Shame

Shame is quite a word, isn’t it? It’s even more ‘quite’ a feeling, quite an insidious corrosive force, especially when left in the dark.

I mentioned in yesterday’s post that I was surprised when I realized, through writing and then re-reading my posts on International Women’s Day and then its Part 2, that shame was bubbling up to the surface.

When thinking about the way things unfolded in my life, especially career-wise, I’d felt lost of different feelings over the years. Frustration. Anger. Disappointment. Irritation. Aggravation. Indignation.

But I can honestly say, before this past weekend, I don’t think I ever realized that shame was the foundation upon which all of those other emotions stood.

At the root of shame (for me): dishonor

Dictionary.com (that august resource) defines shame as follows: “1. the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonorable, improper, ridiculous, etc., done by oneself or another.” “3. disgrace; ignominy.”

And further, defines ignominy as follows: “1. disgrace, dishonor, public contempt; 2. shameful or dishonorable quality or conduct, or an instance of this.”

Shame Borne of Dishonor

And there it was: the common word contained in the definitions of both of those terms: dishonor.

It is only now that I realize that a deep and abiding wound I’ve been carrying around and occasionally picking at within myself over my career in the law (particularly those early years) was shame borne of dishonor.

While I did not go to law school with the primary motivation of becoming wealthy, I was aware that lawyers generally appear to make comfortable livings. You’d have to have lived under a rock not to have that association drilled into your head through media, including television and movies.

So when I was treated with the disrespect I described earlier, by members of a profession that I (idealist that I was – and still am) held in high esteem, I somehow, deep down, felt like I’d failed. I’d brought dishonor upon myself, for it had to be my fault. My failing. Particularly regarding the compensation I was paid.

The most profound realization I made over the past 24-48 hours, however, was the realization that I’ve been carrying around a sense of having dishonored my birth family, my husband and sons, and – this was the biggest surprise – my sisters, by not living up to my highest potential. Not necessarily my blood sisters, but most definitely all the women who had fought hard for our rights, including my right to pursue a legal education in particular.

I’m astonished to realize that I’ve been carrying around the weight of believing that I failed my feminist forebears.

Too Close To See It and Think I Could Change It?

How outrageous is it that I was not only highly educated but also employed in the profession that works with the laws of the land – and yet I permitted myself to be walked over so easily. If I didn’t speak up, who would?

And how shameful was it that my husband worked to put me through law school – and I had so little to show for it? Surely I should be able to do something about that?!!

The bottom line was that I dishonored and therefore brought shame upon my family and my feminist forbears (literal and figurative) by not fighting hard enough.

Secrecy Was Corrosive

I honestly feel it was important for me to tell the truth of how I and women like me were treated in the legal profession when we were getting started. On the one hand, it was only 35 years ago! And on the other, it was 35 freaking years ago!

No, it doesn’t change what happened. But it just might help young women to know now that we never achieved that equality we so blithely think we have. And by keeping all of the indignities we suffered quiet and hidden from ourselves and each other, we’ve allowed this inequality to persist.

Ideally the ones coming up next will learn from this to stand their ground. Hopefully they won’t be so polite as to consciously decide not to speak up. They’ll use their voices and their power to demand equality. The men in our lives deserve to have us being compensated well for what we do. Compensated and treated equally to the men with whom we work.

By revealing my secret shame of not demanding better (equal) treatment, of permitting myself to be exploited, I have stolen its power. I am free to write about the path my life took that changed it forever. Because now, what needed to be said first has been said.

We must choose to reject the shame.

(T-991)