Remnants

Research for the novel HUDSON:
Melissa Kreider's project REMNANTS featured in WIRED recently. 
The photography project underscores the need for an open conversation to dismantle the shaming of victims and change the nature and tone of how "the telling" happens.

From WIRED: 
“I know all these really amazing women now, some who are 20-years-plus out of their assaults, and it’s really awesome for me to see that as someone less than a decade out of her own,” she says. “It makes me feel like it can get better.”

According to the Bureau of Justice Statistics, 431,840 people were raped or sexually assaulted in the US in 2015, the most recent year for which statistics were available. Yet the bureau reports that fewer than one-third of sexual assaults are reported, and only a tiny fraction of perpetrators are convicted.

In an interview for her book, Daring Greatly, Brene Brown describes the ideal as "sharing our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding," in that context, she says, "shame can't survive."

brené brown

so shannon and i are going to see brené brown in nyc on september first. i'm as excited for this as i was to go see, say, patti smith or laurie anderson... i'm, you know, a fan.

brené brown's work has given me a language, a sense of community, and some great paths out of shame. i am a fan, and i am grateful.

i pre-ordered the book and now there it is, sitting on my kindle, calling my name. 

i love the idea of rising strong. i love a full on, research-oriented exploration of stumbling and falling, and getting up. the book is described like this: "Her pioneering work uncovered a profound truth: Vulnerability—the willingness to show up and be seen with no guarantee of outcome—is the only path to more love, belonging, creativity, and joy. But living a brave life is not always easy: We are, inevitably, going to stumble and fall."

one of my favorite stan moments is when she just owns "i've made mistakes." i practice following stan's lead. owning my mistakes, growing from them. stan stumbles and falls a lot. and she gets up. i'm so excited to be reading about how others stumble and fall — and get up. 

i'm sure i'll be moved to write about what rising strong means to me, i hope you'll share your thoughts too!

aj

meet stan gardner

Stan is a character that I've written for and about for many years. Recently it occurred to me that Stan is my Worthiness Superhero. I have instinctively set her in motion when I need to figure something out, when I need to face something that is far too scary for plain old me to face. Stan is capable of far more than I am, on my own. 

Stan is cooler than I am. She's stronger, and she is way, way more adventurous.  

I've come to know that I can count on her to get up.

When she's knocked down, when life seems like more than one soul can take, Stan gets up.
That's a hell of a superpower to depend on.

This site is an exploration of the basic idea of creating a Worthiness Superhero. We see a worthiness superhero as a tool in what author Brené Brown calls shame resilience.

‘We’ are Alicia Johnson and Shannon Gallagher.

I am Alicia. I created Stan.
Shannon is a personal change agent. (She's shared more about herself in I Need a Hero.)

Shannon and I have worked together in a number of ways over the years, and the very funny part of this site is that both of us are total scaredy pants about being seen.

So we agreed to lean into Stan’s chutzpah and step out into the light — and to make something that we believe has value for ourselves and for others. 

This is Worthiness Superheroes (or as we affectionately call it, WHOOSH!). As so many do, the idea for this came into being of it’s own accord, springing itself on us rather fully formed as a site, a practice, a speaker series; a platform that sheds light on paths out of shame.

Here’s how we intend to use this site: Shannon believes that calling on your own worthiness superpowers is critical to manifesting positive change in your life. She will use the site, and facilitating the development of worthiness superheroes, as part of her change practice. You can read more about that, too, in I Need a Hero.

I am finishing a digital novel, POSITANO: WITH EYES OPEN, that sets Stan out ahead of me once again. I'll use WHOOSH! to connect with people about shame and worthiness and the unique value of having a worthiness superhero. My sense is that the people who will love the story will have an affinity with the notion of a worthiness superhero, and will have done work of their own in the whole shame area (imagine my hands up and birdlike as i say “shame area”).

As I work on this note, though, I also sense that this could be a great place for writers to introduce characters. A place to poke at what their characters mean to them. Stan came barreling into my life a decade ago and every day I’m so crazy glad she did.

We hope that if you found this site you'll share your own Worthiness Superhero, and join us in lighting the way.

I keep thinking to myself “how cool is this?” We are calling on our highest selves to make something happen that we believe in. For me, even though I think it‘s cool, it scares the bejeezus out of me. And then in that endless internal back and forth, I think, “Why not, what's the worst that could happen?” Maybe I'll tumble and fall, crash and burn, fall flat on my face, or flat on my ass... and I settle on this: I’ll be OK. I've learned from a superhero about the art of getting up.

— aj

i need a hero

I've done a lot of therapy in my life. Some of it has been really good, some of it really not so good.

The good has brought me to startling levels of self-awareness and understanding. It has brought me the validation I've needed. Solace, accountability, clarity. 

But rarely has it ever helped me know where to go from there.

It turns out, that when you want to be different, when you want to change — to be less reactive or bolder, to be softer or unflinching — cataloging your various issues does little to get you there. 

It's not enough to know what you're moving away from. You have to know where you're going. 

In their book Working on Yourself Doesn't Work, authors Ariel and Shya Kane suggest that it is only through assuming a position of compassionate curiosity towards oneself (rather than an active "I'm gonna fix what's broke" attitude) that we can truly transform. 

What this looks like is simply paying attention. We welcome all we notice with loving kindness. And then slowly, over time, we start making different choices. Our attitudes and words and actions start to shift. The transformation happens organically. 

To use Danielle LaPorte's words, you have to leave the church of self improvement for the temple of you. 

It takes a willingness to look. At all of it. It takes reverence and awe and a sense of humor. You have to be willing to welcome your shadow and your light. Not just the shiny parts. Not just the socially acceptable parts.

Every last human part of you. 

Brené Brown, the mama bear of the vulnerability movement, says in her book Daring Greatly, that "None of us is ever able to part with our survival strategies without significant support and the cultivation of replacement strategies." 

If this is true (and it is), then where do we find that significant support? How do we cultivate replacement strategies?

We can find support in our family and friends, in books or music, at an ashram, or in therapy. We can stop drinking, lying, overeating, overspending, being a doormat, and take up yoga or meditation. We can embrace radical honesty. We can embrace our fragile, mystical humanness. 

But how do we do that? Because anyone who has tried to break a habit or reinvent themselves knows that the struggle is real. When we start recognizing shimmery bits of our truth, our true nature, our soul says "Yes! That!" It falls in love all at once. But our behavior, our bodies and minds, resist. They cling to what is known, what is familiar. And it's not to be stubborn. It's not for lack of willpower, or weakness of character. We literally have a primal aversion to doing things differently. We evolved that way. To our amygdala, anything unfamiliar is unsafe. 

It's an epic battle. Not between good and evil (because really, we're all so, so good), but between what has been and what can be. 

And when the fate of your potential happiness hangs in the balance, what do you do to assure victory? 

You call in your worthiness superhero. 

They offer significant support and a replacement strategy. A way to define what Brown calls your "practiced values" (what you do), and then cultivate your "aspirational values" (what you want to do).

I've known and worked with Alicia for several years. And so I knew of Stan through conversation, though it wasn't until last year that I met her myself, in Positano. Stan is Alicia's worthiness superhero. She is the strongest, bravest, most resilient parts of Alicia. Truth be told, they're really not so different, even though the magic of a worthiness superhero is saying that they are. 

I have created my own worthiness superhero. She is outgoing and outspoken. Ace at negotiation, relationships, and loving unconditionally. She's had many names and has shown up in many ways in my work over the years, without me knowing it until now. I couldn't recognize her until I knew she was there.

When my back is against the ropes and the urge to just duck out is strong, she is the one who steels us and throws the first punch. We may still end up flat on the floor, but we fought the whole way down. 

And so here we are, us four. Alicia and Stan, me and mine. I so hope that you choose to join us here. To share your stories, your characters, your worthiness superheroes. We're all in this together, as they say. You're never really alone. 

Whoosh.

-Shannon