To those dark places in you, the ones you might rather not know: welcome.
Come! Pull up a chair.
Join us in the light.
My journey with shame is long and familiar. It sounds like:
"I'm disgusting."
"I have no friends."
"If anyone really knew me, they sure wouldn't like what they see."
And sometimes, regrettably, these voices run the show. I avert my eyes from a loving gaze—"don't come over here, it's so foul. I don't want to taint you, too."
I've hurt people with my refusal to let them love me.
But I'm not damaged goods, and neither are you.
We—each of us—arrives fully loaded, elders in training. — Malidoma Somé
It's a play on words. It sounds like "no shame," which is true. Say no to shame. Say no to shaming behavior and language.
It also acknowledges that to heal from shame requires bringing into the light. You can't just "get over" it, you have to know it.
It's like that old kids' tale:
Can't go under it.
Can't go over it.
Have to go through it.
So it is with shame: we have to go through it, and we cannot do that alone.
So get to know shame, yours and others.
Toxic shame does no good. It corrodes our sense of worth, belonging, and dignity. It drives us to hide, to withdraw, to lash out. It makes us small, brittle, and afraid.
It's not just an individual wound. It is one of the primary ways systems of domination sustain themselves.
White supremacy, colonialism, patriarchy—these forces don't rely only on laws or violence. They rely on shame lodged deep in the body: you are too much, not enough, dangerous, defective, replaceable.
Toxic shame breaks down the bonds of community.
Indeed, some might even say, "fuck shame."
Many years back a mentor, guide, and grandfather figure of mine, Michael Sherlock, said a prayer for shame that has stuck with me. (This comes through Michael from Martin Lazoff):
Fuck shame! I am somebody!
This is what I want to send out into the world. "People," I'm ready to scream. "It is time we move on from the shame!"
The word "fuck" for some people can help them to jump out of a frozen place and activate toward healing. And the reminder that you matter.
"You matter!"
I learned early in my journey to heal my shame that healthy shame is actually a good thing.
If toxic shame says, "I'm bad," healthy shame says, "I did something bad."
At it's heart, healthy shame is a compass that orients us to our values.
As we learn to stay present with our own shame, we grow the capacity to stay present with discomfort, difference, and repair.
We learn how to be accountable without collapsing, and how to belong without pretending.
Collective freedom emerges when people can remain in relationship—especially when things get hard. Shame work restores that possibility.
It loosens the hold of inherited harm so it is not passed on untouched.
Healthy shame is a natural and necessary part of human development. It's the internal sense of right and wrong that helps us navigate relationships and social norms.
On a communal level, healthy shame acts like gentle bowling gutters bouncing toward the pins of our fullest light.
Toxic shame is destructive. We don't need. Fuck it. I am somebody.
I'm currently in the process of designing "merch" to spread the message of healthy shame.
Part of the process means getting feedback, which is why I'm running two polls:
You can also contact me directly with your input.
My name is Cameron Carrick.
I’m a writer, facilitator, and lifelong student of what helps people come back into relationship—with themselves, with one another, and with what gives life meaning.
I’ve spent years working in spaces where shame hides in plain sight: leadership, work, masculinity, family systems, spirituality, and social change. I’ve seen how easily shame dresses itself up as competence, righteousness, productivity, or self-improvement—and how costly that disguise can be.
I don’t believe shame is defeated by positivity or performance. I believe it loosens its grip when it is met with attention, language, grief, anger, dignity, and love—often in that order, and rarely all at once.