What a Shame!

“Yes, Korea is a shame culture,” Eben explained when I told him I felt ashamed with my first grades at law school. Feeling shame about not knowing what shame culture is, I nodded along. Later, I learned that Ruth Benedict’s binary labels of “guilt culture” and “shame culture.” She explained that individual morality and social behaviors in Oriental cultures were sanctioned by public opinion, whereas in Western cultures controlled by internal conscience. Although, admittedly, there are points in which guilt and shame intersect, the anthropologist clarifies that “true shame cultures rely on external sanctions for good behavior, … [Shame] requires an audience or at least a man’s fantasy of an audience.”

Sources of My Shame

Growing up in South Korea, I was immersed in a society where the notion of shame loomed large. From musical toilets to the deeply ingrained Confucianism, shame has shaped my decisions, both as a motivator and a hindrance. One of the most important factors in my cost-benefit analysis is whether I would feel shame for failing, leaving no room to think about what I want to accomplish or about what kind of person to be. Even the commitment to go to law school was influenced by the sense of shame. I was embarrassed to attend a small liberal arts college that no one heard of. Without thinking if I wanted to practice law, I needed to feel better about myself by gaining social validation by attending a high-ranked law school. Of course, the shame occurred there as well, that I didn’t make it to Harvard. My shame goes beyond the academic context. The standards of beauty and relationships were dictated by societal worthy of love and acceptance. I found myself trying to reach an unattainable ideal, plagued by a sense of inadequacy. Sometimes the shame came from microscopic things like acne and sometimes from normal human behaviors like blowing nose (I have never blown nose in public with a noise because it is not “feminine” enough). The pressure to conform to these ideals often left me trapped in a cycle of shame that “I am not good enough.” My understanding of self-worth was contingent upon and continued to be so external validation. Further, as an international student, who grew up in Korea but spent adulthood in the United States, shame also comes from exclusion. As Benedict demonstrated, shame culture defines an individual’s identity based on the judgments of others around, regardless of your intimacy. These judgments are made by in-group members against outsiders. David Brooks describes the process: members of a group lavish each other with praise by taking turns and condemning those who break the group code. In doing so, people feel extremely anxious that they might be denigrated. Like so, not being Korean-enough nor American enough, I was perpetually insecure in a system of inclusion and exclusion. In the absence of core-self, the fear of rejection from both Korean and American communities intensified a sense of dislocation, leaving me feeling on the fringes of acceptance.

Law School: A Microcosm of Shame

Law School is a scene of interesting interplay of shame and guilt culture. It recreates a set of common behavior patterns- a canned product- using various tools of shame. One of them is fear of failure. Students are labeled as a failure based on performance. Recently, an email was sent by the Career Service Offices that a student should make an appointment with one of its staff if he or she is still looking for a job this summer. Students, including myself, testified how it was shameful to admit not having a summer job at the firm yet. The shame here is internalized and transformed into guilt. Many of us think “Oh, I don’t have a job because I have not worked hard enough. It is all my fault.” Putting control freaks in restrained curriculum, Law School environments encourage constant comparison, where students measure themselves against their peers in academic achievements, extracurricular involvement, and career aspirations. The feelings of inadequacy and inferiority of what we often call “imposter syndrome” contribute to an atmosphere of shame and self-censure. Another tool creating shame culture in Law School is the stigmatization of Mistakes. I remember on Tuesday, someone in-class mentioned that “we just don’t want to make a mistake.” It is common in Law Schools that a stigma is attached showing vulnerabilities and making mistakes. That is, students are more reluctant to seek help or discuss their struggles for fear of being judged or ostracized by others.

Seeking Antithesis of Shame

It was not until I began to unravel the grip of shame on my life. The pursuit of avoiding shame often came at the expense of genuine self-fulfillment. The quest left for me is to transcend and explore alternative paradigms. Traditionally, the opposite of shame on the spectrum has been recognized as an honor. But even honor is also an element of shame culture, for feeling shame comes from not feeling honored. Some contemporary sociologists argue that, in the new shame culture, the opposite of shame is celebrity. That is, in the era of social media, grabbing attention and being aggressively unique is contrasted with shame. However, for both honor and fame come from externalities, I don’t think it is a viable means of escape from shame. Maybe a hint can be found in Day’s description of a Daisy Mae in a subway in Lawyerland. It is described that “a young woman… wearing a totally sheer white blouse, … completely transparent, …. Through which you can see every detail of a very expensive, low-cut… white lace bra!” The description goes on: “Shoulder-length blond braids, rhinestone barrettes, and … a straw hat. She’s wearing a straw hat on the Lexington Avenue subway!” Daisy Mae is depicted as a person who “could not care less”, suggesting that self-assuredness and acceptance serve as a powerful shield against shame. Cultivating indifference, individuals may navigate societal pressures and embrace unique identities.