What's Chava Possum Up to Today?: Shame and Character

A rebel writer’s Weekly blog

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Over the last few days, I’ve dedicated my attention to character. As some of you may know, I’ve been working on my current story for almost eight years now. So you might be asking, “If you’ve been working with the same cast of characters for eight years, why are they your focus now? Aren’t you past that stage?” The answer is quite simply: No, because that “stage” is never-ending. The last eight years have been an excruciating process of excavating the story I need to tell. Drafts upon drafts upon drafts. I’ve re-invented the story seven different times, facing my work with brutal honesty and acknowledging that I’m not there yet. Naturally, through those radical shifts in the narrative, my characters have also changed. This past year has been about ditching my “priors”— my assumptions about my own story. As I’ve shed old perspectives, visions, and plots, the framework of each characters dilapidated and crumbled. I’m presented with a chance to re-imagine them. And this time, after years of trial and error, I get to build characters with more intention and depth than ever before. And so, re-entering this phase of storytelling, I find myself examining how I was taught to create characters. I’m discovering that I have some strong opinions on this matter!

In writing classes, when studying character development, we are taught to ask certain questions that, in answering them, build character. We learn about want vs need as a basis for motivation. To reach those wants and needs, we ask questions of each character. One of those questions is "What is the character afraid of?"

I feel strongly that this question is severely lacking in its ability to construct characters based on believable motivations. Most of us fear the same things, deep down. Generally, we fear harm, loss of control, and the unknown. Yes, the specifics of what we fear are important and useful to a degree, but what inner-mysteries are we hoping to unlock about the character by answering the question? I worry that we seek symbolic or metaphorical depth through fear. Asking what a character is afraid of sets up a Pandora's box of bullshit; it encourages us to seek out an answer that will inevitably feel false.

For example, ask yourself the question: What are you afraid of?

I’m afraid of plane crashes, roaches, murky waters, and getting hurt. What do those things tell you about me as a person? That I’m anxious? That I’m freaked out by the unknown?

Who isn’t?

Let’s look closer: Why am I afraid of plane crashes? It’s not like I survived a plane crash or even witnessed one. I’m afraid of plane crashes for the same reason many other people are: they kill people. I fear harm.

So if we follow the logic that our fears speak to something unique about us, we can easily wade into waters of symbolism. Why am I afraid of plane crashes? Perhaps the fear symbolizes my need for control. This may be true, but we all crave control in turbulent situations. The bottom line is that this does nothing to build my unique individuality as a character.

Another reason I find fear to be a rocky soil for character development is that many of our fears never actually happen to us. Am I afraid of crocodiles? Absolutely. Am I likely to ever encounter one in real life? Probably not. Fear, then, is in a sense metaphorical. It’s a prediction that I would be scared if I saw a crocodile. But if I never encounter one, then what does that fear actually tell you about me as a person? It tells you I’m afraid of things with sharp teeth that can break bones with one chomp. Again, who isn’t afraid of that?

Ultimately, I believe asking about our fears does more to characterize humanity than the individual.

Rather, I prefer the question: "What is your character ashamed of?"

I recently attended a Restorative Justice training— a framework that is most commonly used in criminal justice reform and education reform. In the training, we talked a lot about shame. The trainers introduced us to “the compass of shame”— a theoretical device that helps us notice how we react to feeling shame. For example, when I feel shame, I tend to “withdraw” and “attack self.” By understanding this about myself, then I can better work through my shame in a healthy way, rather than hurting myself. The IIRP— International Institute for Restorative Practices— defines shame as “…quite simply as the reaction to any interruption of a positive affect.” So when I am excited after a long day at work to just watch a crappy TV show and my partner comes home and makes an off-hand comment about my bad taste in entertainment, thus interrupting my positive feeling, I feel shame and shut down. We all do this in one way or another.

After the training, I couldn’t get shame off my mind. I’m deeply fascinated by shame and, now having insightful tools to better understand it, I feel like I have access to human vulnerability.

So what is the character ashamed of?

I call this the "hit em again" question, because answering it can, in effect, feel like an attack. It’s like watching my favorite reality TV show. I’m ten seasons deep, I know the characters well, I know their stories, and I come to know their insecurities. So when one of the characters does something harmful to someone else, I can say, “Well, he lashed out like that because he knows he doesn’t have a strong relationship with his daughter, as much as he wishes he does.” I’m allowed to be that brutally honest and blunt because I am just talking to my TV screen; I don’t have to tip-toe. I can pinpoint the character’s shame and how it manifests to better understand why he does what he does.

Shame is a much harder emotion for us (specifically Americans) to work through compared to fear. Fear is allowed space to be explored because it can serve a higher purpose. Fear is something to be conquered. Shame, on the other hand, doesn’t mesh as effortlessly with our bootstrap mythos. Navigating shame requires a devotion to vulnerability. How many friends and family members can you think of that are good at being vulnerable? American values are deeply rooted in productivity and being vulnerable isn’t productive. If we were each asked to name an emotion that we believe guides our decision-making, we would probably list fear or love. Because to even admit to the presence of shame reveals weakness. We choose to ignore it, to compartmentalize it, and to act as if it isn’t there. We elect to not think about it outside of religious contexts, where shame is only allowed as a gateway to redemption. (You’ve probably heard of Catholic guilt, but there is also Jewish shame.) But shame is a shape-shifting emotion that guides more of our daily choices than any other. By ignoring it, we disregard the essence of our selves.

I’ll share a personal example. In August of this year, ICE kidnapped members of my community. Local activists discovered where ICE was temporarily detaining the men until they could be transported out of state. Those activists put their bodies in front of the unmarked buses holding the men and refused to move until an immigration attorney could ensure the men were being treated humanely. I got a text from a friend telling me that they needed more people on-site to halt the buses. They were asking for help. I knew SWAT teams were on-site, our local police were threatening to arrest protesters, and alt-right groups like the Proud Boys were already making plans to come down and incite violence.

I decided to join my friends and I drove down as fast as I could.

The choice to go was made the second my friends told me what was going on. There really was no choice; I had to do this. But as I drove to the protest, I of course thought about the consequences. I was fully expecting to be arrested the moment I arrived. And, later that night, after 12 hours of protesting, the Feds arrived, stole the men from off the bus, and pepper-sprayed peaceful protesters. I knew it was going to be a brutal day, so why did I choose to go?

I decided to go because I love my friends. It was love. But it was also shame. I knew that if I sat this one out, because I am White and have the privilege to opt-in and out whenever I like, that I’d be ashamed of myself. I’d be ashamed of my cowardice. I’d be ashamed that my love for others was trumped by fear. While love was the strongest motivator, it was backed up by shame, specifically, my avoidance of shame.

See how shame motivates us, yet lingers in the background unspoken? My example demonstrates how shame plays a part in our decision-making, even as it interacts with other powerful emotions. My relationship with shame tells you more about who I am than my fear of plane crashes.

What will shame tell you about your characters?