Normalizing vulnerability

Being open about our feelings and needs may be risky, but we need to start normalizing vulnerability if we are to receive the genuine care and love we deserve from our communities.

Photo by Photo by RF._.studio

Black Women Get to Be, the newsletter and podcast, was created by Qubilah Huddleston and is driven by connection and community. If you’re new here, subscribe (free or paid), like this post, share it with a friend or two, and leave a comment below while you’re at it. I’d love to hear from you.

---

Summer is sadly almost over and I couldn’t even tell you where the time went. What I can tell you, however, is that 2024 continues to show me that I can do hard things. To be clear, I’ve been doing hard/challenging things my entire life (like climbing very tall trees with my cousins while spending summers in Reno), but the hard things I am doing in adulthood have less to do with physical feats. So what exactly is the hard thing that I’ve been striving to do? Normalizing being vulnerable.

Being vulnerable can be challenging to do. For starters, the dictionary definition of the word is straight up negative. Merriam-Webster¹ defines the word as the following:

1: capable of being physically or emotionally wounded

2: open to attack or damage

With that definition, no wonder folks aren’t gunning to embrace it. Also, depending on how you grew up, you might have been told that being vulnerable/being in touch with and open about your feelings with others, makes you weak. And even if someone never told you this directly, your own life experiences may have led you to believe that being vulnerable just isn’t worth the risk.

Understandably, our efforts to avoid vulnerability is wrapped up in our innate need for self-preservation. Knowing that the more we let people in, the more they have the chance to (mis)judge and harm us. You know what they say, those closest to us are usually the ones that hurt us the most. While this sentiment may reflect some of our lived experiences, assuming that hurt or harm are the only or inevitable outcomes of being vulnerable robs us of the other possibilities being vulnerable presents: honored boundaries, authentic self-expression, and genuine community care.

As a Black woman living in the US, I know that it can be hard to imagine the ways in which vulnerability can be a good thing. Whenever we are vulnerable, whether at work, with family, friends, or in romantic relationships people can’t seem to handle it and occasionally lose their minds. It’s as though we have committed some cardinal sin by saying that we ain’t got it. That we need to be held. That we need reprieve from being strong.

But people who cannot or refuse to learn how to hold space for your feelings, needs, and boundaries aren’t your people, sis. I don’t care how long you’ve known them or how intimate you believe the relationship is. You deserve to live a life in which you do not have to beg or convince someone to see you, to hold you when you need to be held, to carry a bit of the load.

A more fulfilling life is possible when we embrace vulnerability.

Knowing how to be vulnerable is the key to living more authentically and can lead to a more love-, joy-, and care-filled life. There may be a lot of fear about voicing your needs, or telling people what’s really going on with you. That fear is valid and I am not here to dismiss it. But holding back and self-silencing ourselves is literally making us sick.

This is why we must normalize vulnerability. We have too much life to live to spend our days hidden behind closed walls and closed curtains.

Here’s what becomes possible when you practice vulnerability:

• Stronger emotional, mental, and physical health

• Being seen, appreciated, and respected for who you are by the people who are supposed to be in your life

• Deeper, authentic relationships in which you are able to get your needs met

• Less self-doubt, more self-appreciation, self-trust and self-compassion

• More capacity to stand on business and not feel guilty about doing so

Looking at that list, which isn’t exhaustive, there’s just too much goodness to be gained from being more vulnerable. And while I recognize that the path to normalizing and embracing vulnerability is a winding one, I firmly believe that doing so is still the fastest way for us to receive the type of care and support we deeply desire from our community.

There’s no one way to go about normalizing vulnerability more in your life, but if it’s helpful, here’s what normalizing it looks like for me.

• Being honest with friends and families when they’ve done or said something that didn’t sit right with me

• Allowing myself to be angry or frustrated and expressing it openly (this one is a work in progress due to the shame I carry around anger)

• Not saying I’m “okay” or “fine” when it isn’t true

• Being honest about not knowing something or needing help (at home, at work, etc.)

• Taking calculated risks as a way to uncover more about myself and other people

Another thing that I’ve relied on to help me grow more comfortable in vulnerability is culturally-affirming therapy. I’ve been in and out of therapy since 11 years old, but the relationship I’ve had with my current therapist for the last few years has given me a lot of practice in vulnerability. We unpack so much and my therapist allows me to express myself as is and never tells me that I should feel differently. Yet, she challenges me and is always reminding me that “the work” has been paying off even if it doesn’t always feel like it.

I realize everyone has different opinions and feelings about therapy, but I truly feel like if you find the right match, your life can open up in ways you never even imagined. You will find it easier to embrace vulnerability because you’ll have more self-trust and self-assurance.

Finding affordable, culturally-affirming therapy isn’t easy, but thankfully there are organizations out here trying to change that.

The Loveland Foundation was founded in 2018 by Rachel Cargle to provide financial assistance to Black women and girls seeking therapy services. To date, the foundation has funded more than 150,000 hours and $6 million of therapy services for women across the country.

Given the gross inequities and disparities Black women face in accessing therapy, I wanted to spread the word about The Loveland Foundation’s new initiative, The Love, US campaign. Since May, they’ve been rallying 1 million supporters to contribute just $5 each. If they succeed, they’ll provide $5 million in therapy to Black women, girls, and non-binary folks in 2025. The Love, Us campaign is about Black women, and those who love them, pooling our resources together to build a community-driven, healing revolution, one donation at a time.

It would mean a lot to me for my readers to donate if you have the means. While I’ve highlighted therapy as a key tool in helping me normalize vulnerability, the benefits of therapy are endless. It is past time for Black women to receive the healing they want, need, and deserve! I just donated $5, will you?

Abrazos y besos* for reading my work! It’s dope to know that people are interested in what I have to say. I am self-care and personal growth strategist who helps Black women who do too much, do less. I envision a world in which Black women trade in their superhero or magician capes for radical self-care, rest, and joy. I come in love and grace, and as always take what you need, leave what you don’t.

If this post resonated with you, please give it a like, and if you know a Black woman who could benefit from reading this article, please share. Many thanks.

Below are a few ways you can support and keep up with me.

Instagram 📱

• BWGTB

• Personal

My other written works ✍🏾

• Medium

Make a donation in lieu of a subscription 🫶🏾

• Buy me a cup of tea

* Means “hugs and kisses” in Spanish.

1. https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/vulnerable#:~:text=1,to%20attack%20or%20damage%20%3A%20assailable