A Quote by Brene Brown

Shame derives its power from being unspeakable...If we speak shame, it begins to wither. Just the way exposure to light was deadly for the gremlins, language and story bring light to shame and destroy it.
Shame derives its power from being unspeakable.
Shame hates it when we reach out and tell our story. It hates having words wrapped around it - it can't survive being shared. Shame loves secrecy... When we bury our story, the shame metastasizes.
Shame has its place. Shame is what you do to a kid to stop them running on the road. And then you take the shame away, and immediately, they're back in the fold. You should never soak anybody in shame. It's the prolonged existence of shame that then flips out into destructive rage. We can't exist in that. It's like treacle.
If you have an embarrassing story, and it's a source of shame, keeping it in just compounds the shame and turns the story into something poisonous. And if someone knows about it, then it can be used against you.
By the way, two wars are in an endless state of sorrow. Egypt about burned to the ground and all you people care about is my bullshit... Pathetic. Shame, shame shame
While someone can attempt to shame you, shame must also be accepted to be effective. We can't make you feel shame without your participation.
A man must not be without shame, for the shame of being without shame is shamelessness indeed.
When I was asked: "Will shame do it?" Meaning: Will welfare people be shamed into getting respectable work? And I said that shame plays the biggest role there is: The biggest shame is that there is so much abundance around but that so many have so little and so few have so much. That's the shame.
False shame accompanies a man that is poor, shame that either harms a man greatly or profits him; shame is with poverty, but confidence with wealth.
You see it is important to understand how damaged people don't always know how to say yes, or to choose the big thing, even when it is right in front of them. It's a shame we carry. The shame of wanting something good. The shame of feeling something good. The shame of not believing we deserve to stand in the same room in the same way as all those we admire. Big red As on our chests.
A great wave of humiliation and shame swept over me. Shame that I belonged to a race that could be so dealt with; and shame for my country, that it, the great example of democracy to the world, should be the only civilized, if not the only state on earth, where a human being would be burned alive.
Today I will learn to reject shame. Shame is an overwhelming sense that who I am isn't good enough. I realize that I am good enough, and that my imperfections are part of being human. I let go of shame.
I believe we all have lists of shame. Long lists. We live with our constellation of shames quite privately. But they weigh us down. I wish I could abracadabra away shame. This is such a waste of our small time on earth. Our bodies are often the focus of shame. The shame of the body changing. Of the sexual body. Of the aging body. Not being able to do what you once could do. Even just looking at your skin as you age, the texture, the wrinkle, the sag, and somehow feeling ashamed and responsible for its changes.
I come home that morning, after I been fired, and stood outside my house with my new work shoes on. The shoes my mama paid a month's worth a light bill for. I guess that's when I understood what shame was and the color of it too. Shame ain't black, like dirt, like I always thought it was. Shame be the color of a new white uniform your mother ironed all night to pay for, white without a smudge or a speck a work-dirt on it.
There is no shame in being a survivor of sexual violence. The shame is on the aggressor.
There is no shame in not knowing something. The shame is in not being willing to learn.
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