What Is Vulnerability, Really?

What is vulnerability, really?

Does that question make you go like this 👇

Because it definitely does that to me. See, as much as I love queen Brené Brown, I think her TED talk on The Power of Vulnerability accidentally unleashed a new kind of terror on the world: fake vulnerability.

Fake vulnerability has been a useful mask for con artists and grifters for millennia. Lie about your cancer diagnosis, rags-to-riches story, pick-your-sob-story and use it to manipulate people into buying whatever you’re selling. Vulnerability has always been a way we relate to one another, but the secret nature of vulnerability means it’s difficult to gauge just how much vulnerability to show. Most of us show far less than is likely healthy, which means that grifters can easily exploit our desire to connect through vulnerability by lying about theirs.

When Brown’s talk exploded in popularity, it seemed possible the grift could go away. Maybe by showing each other our soft underbellies, we could inure ourselves to meanies who would seek to target it. Suddenly, rather than a secret shame, vulnerability became a buzzword. Since then, it’s been everywhere.

Influencing Vulnerability

In the ensuing 14 years, expressing vulnerability has practically grown into a cottage industry of itself. Influencers, in particular those who market to women, constantly traffic in the language of vulnerability, perfectly realized by Noelle Crooks in her thinly fictionalized tell-all about her time working for Rachel Hollis, Under the Influence.

Influencers share something a little embarrassing about themselves - let’s say a story about a time they peed themselves, or a photo of or a video of themselves crying. Despite Brown’s works, many of us still struggle to connect. Yes, you might think upon seeing one of those photos. I am hiding behind my fear of imperfection. Hey presto, now you trust that influencer.

This is not in and of itself an inherently bad thing. I’m not arguing that we should go back to shoving our vulnerabilities down so deep that we all die of “the vapors” at 22. I think, harnessed for good, real vulnerability is a very powerful thing, not only for our own mental health, but for fighting systemic bias. For example, I have learned a lot about ableism and rights for disabled persons simply by listening to disabled people who are brave enough to talk about their lived experiences honestly.

Only, as Celebrity Memoir Book Club discussed in their great episode on one of Joanna Gaines’s books, are all these people encouraging and profiting from vulnerability…actually being vulnerable? Other than Dr. Brown, I think many of them are not. In Gaines’s book The Stories We Tell, for example, she waxes poetic on the benefits of “telling your story,” while her avoidance for opening up to her audience is palpable. It seems so many people are able to perform vulnerability or incorporate it into their branding, but can they actually do it?

While performing vulnerability for the sake of an audience makes me a bit sad, I don’t find it altogether perfidious. If the only one you’re hurting is your own mental health, that is frankly your demon to wrestle with. But unfortunately, Gaines is an isolated case. Often, performances of faux vulnerability cause consequences far beyond a single person, regardless of intent.

Weaponized Vulnerability

I had a similar experience to Crooks - I worked for a woman whose pseudospiritual business constantly promoted emotional “openness.” She (meaning the staff who ran her social media accounts) often received fan mail from women pouring their deepest traumas onto us (her unguarded staff) in long-winded Facebook messages. As employees, we were constantly pushed into honesty far beyond what I now know is appropriate. I often left team-building exercises that forced emotional vulnerability feeling traumatized and bruised, not spiritually uplifted (or better at my job).

This, I later learned, is a common tactic of cults. The quasi-official term is “Systems of Control,” and forced vulnerability is a type of emotional control. Coercing people into going farther emotionally than they want to (or is appropriate) is a powerful way of keeping someone indebted to you.

Despite giving literal speeches on the power of spiritual connection and emotional honesty, my former boss remains one of the most guarded, opaque people I’ve ever met. She directed both her staff and her business coaching clients to exploit the vulnerabilities of targets in sales, and exploited the vulnerabilities of her audiences for the sake of her business. I found myself nodding a lot when reading Under the Influence, all too familiar with the experience of working for someone who constantly pushed “radical honesty” onto her employees and clients while maintaining a white-knuckle hold on a perfect image.

Can We Be Truly Vulnerable Online?

So much of the “vulnerability” we witness online has become carefully sculpted: a spotlight on a crying, makeup-free woman who, ultimately, is still thin, attractive, and wealthy. Even if she’s weeping, it takes a decidedly un-vulnerable kind of calculation to decide to film yourself in the throes of sobs. And true vulnerability, like admitting you don’t know something, is often punished, offering even less incentive, requiring even more courage.

I don’t have an answer to this dilemma. I cannot deliver you a neat answer to when vulnerability is real and when it’s manipulative. Frankly, I don’t know where the line is between sharing honestly, sharing manipulatively, and being overly guarded. If anything, I struggle with the latter. Despite opening myself up to vulnerability in my writing (and by starting this blog in the first place), I still struggle with the ever-present 21st century battle of both desperately wanting to be seen online, while also maintaining a degree of anonymity.

Perhaps it’s as simple as motive, which can be powerfully hard to untangle, even within ourselves. Even the most carefully crafted stretch mark selfie comes with a certain desire to be known, to be seen, by others. I just keep coming back to the feeling in my gut that this can’t be the way we should honor our vulnerabilities.

What do you think?