Ditching the Vulnerability Armor

Not so long ago, in May 2020, we celebrated #MentalHealthAwareness month around the world. I had carved out intentional time to meditate more, breathe more, read more, and share more. I digested books, journals, articles, podcasts and YouTube videos on shame, vulnerability, empathy, connection, grief, sadness, and loss.

My spirit animal, Brené Brown, had been selected to deliver the keynote commencement address for graduating classes at the University of Texas at Austin in May 2020. Dr. Brown, of course, had to deliver the keynote address virtually, to thousands of graduating Longhorns. They were among the millions of graduates around the globe, at various levels of education and abilities, who had their commencement exercises taken away from them, in live format, due to COVID-19.

In her address to the graduates, she speaks about owning your emotions, or they own you. You own your hurt, or your hurt owns you, and you subsequently work it out on other people or take it out on yourself. I highly encourage everyone to listen to her 21-minute address on YouTube, "Don't be Afraid to Fail."

Two days after Brown delivered her address, George Floyd was brutally murdered in Minneapolis. It was a sad, sickening twist to end what was supposed to be a month dedicated to grieving, processing pain, understanding hurt, and taking steps to understand what tools we can leverage to lift ourselves up after we fall down on our faces.

Then, suddenly, it was June. Pride month. Warm weather. Celebrating our differences and uniqueness against the backdrop of the world set ablaze by the murders of Mr. Floyd, along with Breonna Tayler and Ahmaud Arbery, in addition to dozens and dozens of others. Pride month took on an elevated, and necessary, meaning with incorporating #BlackLivesMatter, #BlackTransLivesMatter, #BlackLoveMatters, #BlackExcellence, and #BlackJoy.

2020 was already an inverted year due to the effects of the global pandemic. George Floyd's murder added another inversion on top of that, as a justified catalyst for unveiling the horror of systemic racism in our society and the prompt call to action to end it around the world.

We found ourselves having difficult conversations at the dinner table, in the office, with friends, families, and others about race, class, violence, privilege, pain, anger, sadness, biases, bigotry, and a gamut of other things that we've arguably thought about often, but averted in the past in fear of discomfort.

What matters, however, is that there are no silver linings to the mass murder, enslavement and incarceration of Black humans in the last 400 years. Most of the things we prize as things which bring us joy, such as music, cooking, sports, singing, and so forth are past-times created by, and celebrated by, Black and Indigenous People of Color (BIPOC) that our colonialist society has stolen from, repetitively, for centuries.

There is only anger, sadness, and hurt in the wake of what has been done to these individuals. And, most critically, the real wake-up call for humans in times like these requires us to dig deeply to unpack our own understandings (or lack thereof) of shame, pain, vulnerability, broken belief systems and irrational thinking in order to break it all down and rebuild anew.

I grew up in Texas, and my parents are immigrants from South Asia. Even in our culture, the widespread presence of racism and shaming of, "otherness" is pervasive and toxic. Compounded with the fact that topics like mental health and open dialogue about touchy subjects are considered very taboo, us first-generation children were brought up to suppress any thoughts and ideas that could be considered, "radical" or bring shame upon the family.

That extends to making conscious choices between what is right vs. what is easy, especially if the former involves taking an empathetic approach to problem-solving that may not affect you directly or cause you any immediate danger or harm.

Even in 2020, discussing the horrifying behavior of police brutality at the dinner table was met with, "if you think it's bad in the U.S., just imagine how awful the Indian police are, the word 'corrupt' doesn't even begin to describe..."

Sidebar: I actually DO know first hand how awful the Indian police force is. I was there in February of this year. The situation is bad. I spoke up about it. I don't live in a vacuum.

This kind of toxic minimization and gas-lighting that seemed pervasive across all American households in the 1980's, 1990's, and most of the 2000's, has created the perfect storm for all of us to channel our frustrations and short-comings into unhealthy habits and behavior patterns.

It has been particularly awful for people of color, as well as children and teenagers of immigrant families, who were going through elementary, middle or high school in major U.S. cities in the post-9/11 era and beyond.

In short, many of us are conditioned to avoid our fears instead of confronting them. If you see something, you're supposed to say something. However, in my culture at least, the norm is, "if you see something, don't say anything if it will attract negative attention towards you, or even worse, your family."

In Hindi, we were raised to always be in constant fear of a statement that can be summarized into three words: "Log kya kahenge?" which translates to, "what will people think?" "what will people say?"

The shame is pro-actively placed around us as some sort of protective armor we have to wear, all the time. Armor, of course, is heavy. The weight of such burden becomes excruciatingly difficult to carry as life goes on. One is constantly looking over their shoulder, unable to step-up when the time is right to handle difficult conversations, much less be open to alternate viewpoints.

In wake of the devastating tragedy which took place on Memorial Day in Minneapolis, MN (where I once lived from 2013-2015), radical changes and uprising movements have spurred riots, protests, peaceful demonstrations and more across the entire world with regards to the #BlackLivesMatter cause. Some are corporate-driven. Others are grassroots-oriented.

The movements and expressions that I have found to be the most powerful are ones that are created by the latter category. The messaging is concise, the templates feature artwork, drawings, illustrations, and the platforms utilized are visible. The voices behind these messages are convincing, as they are created by actual victims of racial violence, oppression, suppression, and injustice.

Nothing is more powerful than telling one's own truth. And, behind every movement that creates radical change is the conscious choice to dare greatly, expose naked truths that are unpleasant or unsavory for the entire Facebook, LinkedIn, or Instagram followers to read, and do so with the intention of advocating for causes that go above and beyond oneself or individual experience.

That is called dismantling the armor, and instead, leading with Ardor, which comes from within.

I don't think it's any coincidence that #MentalHealthAwareness month created an incentive for people around the world to tap in to the resources that can help one navigate through dark, lonely spaces. The pandemic has fired on all cylinders resulting in job loss, social isolation, economic insecurity, massive casualties, and harrowing experiences for front-line workers and their close friends and family members. Moreover, the tragic politicization of COVID-19, mask-wearing, social distancing, and efforts to flatten the curve has led to a divisive rhetoric where the number of cases and death toll continue to rise. The perpetuation of the global lock-down is becoming more certain by the day.

And, subsequently, this has fueled a movement to incorporate these tactics into a newer, more refined movement: Anti-Racism.

It's not up to the Black community alone and their allies to push for ending police brutality and to stop killing innocent Black lives. It's not up to the Asian community alone to have to rebuke slurs like calling COVID-19, "the Chinese virus."

It's not up to one group alone to pull together resources and create safe spaces to, "check-in" and create "dialogues about privilege."

No, the responsibility lies on all of us humans, especially non-BIPOC (Black or Indigenous People of Color) and the rest of the world to not be complicit in any of this, any longer.

The fight requires radical change. Radical change involves ditching the armor. Ditching the armor entails disbanding bullsh*t labeling and expectations to be, "model-minorities." Killing these labels and boxes is what leads the path towards true liberation.

For me, the "meta" of this has been, and continues to be, as an openly-queer, first-generation Indian-American, who happens to be an Eagle Boy Scout, a Yoga Instructor, a daydreamer, a, "this, that, or the other," individual, is saying the following:

"Log KYA Kahenge? Do I really give a sh*t about what other people will say or think about Me?"

The short answer to that ideally ought to be, "No."

The long answer to that often tends to be, "I wish I didn't, but I don't want to let anyone down."

The courageous answer should be, "As long as I'm living my life truthfully, it shouldn't matter anyway what others think or believe about me."

Choosing the path towards ardor, instead of picking up or carrying the armor, is a conscious choice and battle we will have to face each day of our lives, for the rest of our lives. If friends and relatives hold these choices against us, then whose life are we living? Theirs or our own?

While I can't say that it has invariably worked out for me all the time, at the very least, it has given me the peace of mind to know that I am doing my best to live the life for me, that I want, on my terms, with the hope of sharing and exchanging the wisdom and vulnerabilities in an empathetic manner with so many other heroes, visionaries, connections, close friends and influential people in my life who have chosen to go down the same path.

I have a ton of work to do with regards to releasing the vulnerability armor I've carried around for decades. I have a lot of learning to do to become a better ally in solidarity with oppressed voices. I knowingly will be encountering the peaks and valleys of life until my last day on earth, experiencing joy and loss, love and heartbreak.

But, most importantly, I am working to ground myself in the fact that the world will change for the better and the tools and resources available to all individuals who need help and encouragement will be able to access them. Key among them: Mental Health.

And I'm going to continue towards building a future, not just for myself and my peers, but for younger generations, that distills the myth that we have 100% control over what people can think and perceive about our actions and decisions.

Because, as Dr. Seuss once said: "Be who you are, say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."