"Being tender and open is beautiful. As a woman, I feel continually shhh’ed. Too sensitive. Too mushy. Too wishy washy. Blah blah. Don’t let someone steal your tenderness. Don’t allow the coldness and fear of others to tarnish your perfectly vulnerable beating heart. Nothing is more powerful than allowing yourself to truly be affected by things. Whether it’s a song, a stranger, a mountain, a rain drop, a tea kettle, an article, a sentence, a footstep, feel it all – look around you. All of this is for you. Take it and have gratitude. Give it and feel love."
— Zooey Deschanel
Here's a paradox...
When is weakness a strength? Probably more often than we realize. Like in the quote above, there is power in being open and vulnerable to the world around us. There is also power in being vulnerable to the people around us.
Vulnerability means being open to love AND hurt, available for joy AND pain, sensitive to good AND bad. Thus, vulnerability is a paradoxical strength which presents as a weakness. Both elements make it an essential part of a happy relationship.
Vulnerability means being open to love AND hurt, available for joy AND pain, sensitive to good AND bad. Thus, vulnerability is a paradoxical strength which presents as a weakness. Both elements make it an essential part of a happy relationship.
Traditionally considered the "weaker sex", women have been trying to combat that moniker for the last fifty years by adopting the attitudes, dress, priorities, and behaviors of men. What if this is the wrong approach? What if sensitivity and vulnerability are, paradoxically, our greatest source of power?
One of the negative consequences of feminism is that it has tainted our ability to develop healthy, beautiful interdependence with men by insisting that our relationships be at best "independent...together" or, at worst, in competition with each other. When my Protestant friend Shannon got engaged at age 24, she blogged about this issue:
During my four years at (the University of) Chapel Hill, I definitely joined the camp of “Me Women. Me Must Be Strong. Me Must Find Career.” I really did. I never thought about weddings because they’re so girly and frivolous, because I wasn’t (and still am not) earning a salary, and because I wasn’t (and still am not) truly “independent.” And because Chapel Hill taught me I wasn’t ready for marriage, you know? I hadn’t “found myself.” I hadn’t dated around. I hadn’t “figured out my life.”
But, I did have Bryan who is always so good to me – and so encouraging and loving and supportive.
If I’m ignoring what society tells me – everything in the Bible tells me marriage is the opposite of this idea of independence; marriage is two becoming one – it is a union of unshakable commitment. It is love and humility and compromise. It is strength through losing your independence.
And that’s really hard.
Really hard.
...But what makes me angry, what truly upsets me, is how blind we are to the self-destructive “Me Independent. Me Woman.” mantra. This is particularly highlighted in relationships. Society empowers our hedonistic pursuit of “The Career,” but fails to consider the effect this can have on relationships – or on an individual’s heart. This is true for both men and women."
(Read the rest of her post here)
"Strength through losing your independence" - how is that possible? Here is an analogy to demonstrate:
An A-frame is a basic structure, such as might be found on a swingset. It derives its structural support from two poles leaning at angles that would, on their own, be very unstable (45 degrees). Standing straight up by themselves, two well-balanced poles could hypothetically stay up for a while (assuming there's not a strong wind), but they're both much better off leaning against each other. While in this most vulnerable position, they are responsible for holding up the other pole, and paradoxically, this formula makes a basic swingset work.
Similarly, a marriage derives its strength from two strong, independent people voluntarily giving up their independence and safety to risk being in a relationship. This precarious leaning position is strong when both people are equally committed to metaphorically leaning against one other. When we make ourselves vulnerable to another person, we find power and strength through our unity we could not have found on our own.
When members of a couple lose sight of this fact - one person is scared, or selfish, for example - they may be tempted to protect themselves by withdrawing from the A-frame and standing up alone. Or, one pole may say to the other "You lean first, then I'll go." One pole may have a history of being let down by other relationships and therefore be hesitant to lean.
What makes marriage awesome is that because it is such a significant social, legal, physical, financial, and spiritual commitment, it cements the connection between the two people in a relationship by placing a metaphorical padlock between them, and makes it safer and easier for both people to be completely vulnerable to each other.
However, our experiences with divorce and infidelity and heartache can make the lock on marriage seem a lot less secure, and make us more afraid of being vulnerable to another person.
"I don't need anyone!" "I'm strong and independent!" Is it a coincidence that our increasingly loud declarations of independence coincide with increased rates of broken marriages? I don't think so. Our proudly-worn independence may often just be a clever cover up for fear. Maybe we keep saying these things because, deep down, like Shannon, we're terrified that what we really want is true love. We want to rely on someone. We want to give ourselves up to someone else.
In today's world, not needing someone is seen as a strength. Maybe it's because the desire for love seems either unobtainable or just embarrassing. No wonder we have such a love-hate relationship with Disney princesses! We hate our own desires for vulnerability, for sensitivity, for interdependence. Outwardly, we're pumped that neither princess in Frozen ends up married and yet we are increasingly the loneliest generation in American history.
This fear and hatred is one result of viewing relationships from a wholly individualistic perspective: we're looking at relationships as an issue that's all about us (which is...weird). When the beauty of marriage and love is reduced to a personal indulgence for weaker people who just can't handle being alone, "I" is the key word in our feminist rants above. Vulnerability has no place in a society that's all about ME.
Marriage however, is virtually the antithesis of individualism. Marriage acknowledges that life is actually about one's spouse, and the impact that the marriage will have on kids, grandkids, community, etc. Our society is not just an A-frame of two people - we are a veritable teepee of thousands of poles, all leaning against and relying on one other. We rely on stores to carry food, we rely on doctors to prescribe us medicine, we rely on schools to teach our children, we rely on polling officials to be honest. We rely on emergency responders to pick up the phone when we dial 9-1-1. Doesn't it make sense that we would benefit ourselves and everyone involved if men and women learned how to rely on each other as well?
When we look through an individualistic paradigm, we can't see the other participant(s) in our A-frame. We just see within ourselves a terrifying, ridiculous desire to be at a 45 degree angle, and we will do pretty much everything in our power to fight against it.
Vulnerability is still dangerous. Could we get hurt? Yes. Could the swingset completely fall apart? Definitely. But our best chance for long term happiness is to marry the right person and then be TOTALLY and COMPLETELY COMMITTED to them, "leaning" confidently, letting our spouse know that it's safe to lean on us. The unlikely antidote to save our marriages is the power of strength that comes from weakness.
Giving up love to be a strong, independent woman doesn't help anyone. And frankly, it's not very much fun. If we have the courage to really look inside and confront our desires for vulnerability, we may find that what we want and what we should want are actually the same thing. The weakness we fear is the key to the strength we desire. We've had it with us the whole time.
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