Confident Vulnerability
Shift conversations from small talk to real talk and open doors to authentic connection.
A one act play without a script. A snippet of forced improv without a live studio audience.
Small talk.
I’m supposed to be good at it. But I’m not. Makes my skin crawl a bit. Feels shallow. And as someone that’s been doing agency business development for nearly twenty five years, when I do engage in it, I feel like I’m living up to a stereotype.
Small talk is casual conversation about everyday topics, characterized by its brevity, superficiality, and lack of depth. It’s used to break the ice and establish rapport.
“Stayin’ out of trouble, Tom?
“…you know it, Julia.”
“How’s it going, Roshina?”
“oh…it’s goin…’”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not here to skewer small talk. It certainly plays a role in relationship building. I am here, rather, to make a case for real talk. And discuss an essential element that can foster real talk — Vulnerability.
Real talk is honest, direct, and open communication. In contrast to small talk, real talk involves sharing personal thoughts, feelings, and experiences.
And while I shy away from small talk, I am (for reasons I can’t quite explain) quite comfortable swimming in vulnerability. I’ve found that by reducing small talk, and shifting conversation towards hopes, fears, and doubts, the dynamic of the conversation changes. Healthy and authentic vulnerability is disarming. It diffuses any hint of competition, or agenda. It opens doors and fuels connection.
We can’t discuss vulnerability without a nod to author, speaker, and University of Houston professor, Brené Brown. She’s been researching the topic for decades (here’s her TED talk on the subject if you haven’t seen it). Based on her research, one of the fundamental building blocks for happiness is connection with others. And she’s found that meaningful connection begins with vulnerability.
“Vulnerability is the birthplace of connection and the path to the feeling of worthiness. If it doesn’t feel vulnerable, the sharing is probably not constructive.” (The Power of Vulnerability)
Vulnerability requires openness — asks us to admit fault, share hopes, failures and fears, and acknowledge weaknesses. Being vulnerable isn’t always comfortable, especially in a culture that so often celebrates stoic, and even super human (robotic) performance and success, but the benefits can be tremendous. A study conducted in 1998, focused on interpersonal vulnerability and anxiety, found that individuals who are more willing to express vulnerability and engage in open communication tend to have more positive social experiences and lower levels of anxiety. (Pincus, A. L., Gurtman, M. B., & Ruiz, M. A. 1998).
In the opening chapter of Pema Chödrön’s inspiring Welcoming the Unwelcome, she shares the Mahayana Buddhist tradition that encourages us to embrace bodhichitta, which roughly translates to “awaken your mind and heart.” Moreover, she introduces the idea that the practice of opening your heart to someone else, can be beneficial to both people — “Our aim is to fully awaken our heart and mind, not just for our own greater well being, but also to bring benefit, solace, and wisdom to other living beings. What motivation could top that?”
Chödrön goes on to write about the benefits of opening yourself up to the suffering of the world, striving to embrace and acknowledge the pain we see in the world.
Protecting ourselves from pain — our own and that of others — has never worked. Everybody wants to be free from their suffering, but the majority of us go about it in ways that only make things worse. Shielding ourselves from the vulnerability of all living things — which includes our own vulnerability — cuts us off from the full experience of life. Our world shrinks.
In one of my all time favorite films, 1986’s Stand By Me (based on the novella “The Body” by Stephen King and directed by Rob Reiner), a group of young boys on the cusp of high school, head out on a journey to find the dead body of a local boy that was hit by a train (they believe they’ll be hailed as heroes for finding the missing body). Despite the teenage bravado and teasing that characterizes the interactions between them, each character displays genuine, stark vulnerability.
Set in Oregon in the late 1950’s, seeped in a culture that frowns upon being too honest, emotional, or vulnerable, these friends open up to one another and the result is obvious — genuine connection and love. Each young actor masterfully portrays vulnerability throughout the film. Chris (the late, great River Phoenix) and Gordie (Wil Wheaton) openly worry about growing up and what it’ll mean for their friendship. Gordie, recognizing that Chris knows him better than his parents, fears that they will grow apart and fade out of each other’s lives. Gordie cries openly to Chris as he shares how the devastating loss of his older brother has negatively impacted his relationship with his bitter and angry parents. Teddy (Corey Feldman) sobs violently when a local junkyard owner disparages his “old man” who “stormed the beach at Normandy.”
These moments of vulnerability become the foundation, and fuel, for their friendship.
A recent episode of the podcast No Stupid Questions tackles the question, “How do you Connect with Someone You Just Met?” In the episode, hosts Angela Duckworth and Mike Maughan discuss a variety of ways to establish connection, and even intimacy. A compelling concept that emerges from their research is about the power of escalating vulnerability. Basically, the faster people get to vulnerability, the more opportunity emerges for genuine connection.
…what this [study] tells us about, “How do I get to know somebody I don’t yet know — [and] click with them faster?” is, it’s important to escalate the vulnerability.
Now I’m not suggesting we share our deepest fears and regrets with a new acquaintance, but perhaps start with a low or midgrade octane and see where it takes us. Even over a 30 minute cup of coffee, we can practice real talk. In these scenarios, I encourage you to share something of yourself. A fear. A failure. An anxiety. A hope or dream. More often than not, a showing of humanity, and honesty, will transform an introductory conversation into something more.
At one point in Stand by Me, as the friends walk together down the train tracks, Gordie turns to Chris and asks, “Do you think I’m weird?”
When Chris realizes that Gordie is seeking a serious answer. He responds in a way that conveys both honesty and love for his friend: “Yeah, but so what? Everybody’s weird.”
Conversations that lead with vulnerability move us away from negativity, unnecessary competition, gossip, and complaining, and toward understanding, genuine connection, and meaningful relationships.
So even if it feels a little weird, be confident in your vulnerability. Because… Hey, so what? Everybody’s weird.
