Remember those hot summer days of frizzy hair and relay races that made you feel like an Olympian? There was a bit of magic in the air that made you feel like a superhero. As kids, we lived with the energy to be the best, to tackle every “no” and make it a “yes.” But every time we feared, worried or hurt, we wanted to keep those things to ourselves instead of talking about them. And we’re still staying silent.
For girls, looking beautiful was more important than expressing your true self. For boys, tears were weak and emotions would only lead to trouble. Ultimately for all of us, being vulnerable meant being alone.
Why do we associate vulnerability with failure, weakness and regret? Does fearing it impact our friendships and growth, even during college?
College is one of the most important periods in our lives. The truth is, every person around you is fighting a different challenge, whether he or she has shared or not. Confidence, body image, sexuality, health, violence — these challenges come in storms.
But is it easier for each of us to dismiss the things that aren’t obvious? It’s easier to think Carolina blue skies are never cloudy, that your best friend isn’t covering up an eating disorder or that your hallmate’s hermitage is not a way of crying away the scars of sexual assault. Why? Because questioning, fearing, sharing — this means giving into vulnerability.
We are taught to live in solitude rather than seek the strength of solidarity. It’s easier for us to believe that we are the only ones who stare at the cover of “Cosmopolitan” and think of the abs we don’t have or look at the beautiful woman and hate ourselves for having “unnatural” feelings for her. We cower from shame, even if it means having to hide a part of us and leave a gaping wound unattended.
Fearing vulnerability is not the way to heal, because it also means fearing compassion, love and courage — all things that friends are waiting to share.
In my two years at UNC, I have known 10 friends who have lost a family member. I have known 15 who battled an eating disorder or depression, and a dozen shamed by their sexuality. I have known more than 50 who have been sexually assaulted.
These people have battled or are battling something within themselves, but in sharing their experiences with others, they’ve started to heal. And when it was my turn, sharing saved my life.
