Shame

Recently, my husband Scott wrote a beautiful, vulnerable article about the reality of our love story. The truth about “us” before we separated and got back together. I love him for many reasons, but his ability to own the shadow parts of himself is at the top of the list in my book.

While he’s talked openly before about the part he played in our marriage unraveling in 2014, he felt compelled to pen what he did because of what he sees me endure on a weekly basis.

What is that, you ask? Well, in a nutshell, it’s shame. And I’m not talking about the shame I will always feel for choosing to go down the rabbit hole with Tony. I’m talking about shame that’s heaped on me by other women.

I’m so used to it that in some ways, I’m becoming numb to it. I’ve come to expect it. So, it surprised me a few days ago—while I was on a Zoom call with three incredible, intuitive powerhouse women in Hollywood—I teared up hearing them say how grateful they were that I wrote Little Voices. They talked about how much it helped them in their own lives, and how much my story needs to be seen on screen. For reference, they are all younger than me ranging from late twenties to forty-something in age. I normally keep it together on film/tv development calls, but not this time. I was so overcome with gratitude that I choked up. I even told them why what they said meant so much to me.
In a nutshell, I told them that more times than not when speaking with other women, one of the first things they do is shame me.

• “How could you not have seen what Tony was doing?”
• “We couldn’t believe you did that to your family. How are your kids doing now?”
• “I couldn’t believe you didn’t leave Tony sooner. We were yelling at you while reading your book.”
• “Many of our listeners have dealt with infidelity. How do you feel about what you did to your family?”

These are just a few of the things I hear on a regular basis.

Of course, I expected to take some heat when I wrote Little Voices and, again, I will always regret my actions with Tony, but I knew my story would help others who were going through something similar. I wish a story like mine had been out in the world when I was going through what I did 10 years ago. (There are plenty of them...I know this because they write to me privately.) I knew my memoir would help others, especially childhood sexual abuse survivors understand that if they haven’t healed their childhood wounds, they have about an 80 percent chance of unconsciously manifesting similar abusive in adulthood. You see, our subconscious (where our wounds are housed) drives 80 percent of our behavior. Psychologists call it “wounded attachment,” a term I knew nothing about until I was a shell of myself in 2017 having lived through three years of abuse at the hands of a charming sociopathic sexual predator. (Full circle, eh?)

Still, while the whole concept of wounded attachment is incredibly important, it’s not why I’m writing this piece today.

Today, I want to talk about how much shame women heap on other women.

We all know that our reaction to things/topics/people primarily stems from what we’ve experienced in our lives. In that case, if you’ve ever been on the receiving end of infidelity, you’re more likely to throw some shame shade at me. I get that.

What I wasn’t prepared to realize were these things:

• Most older women I encounter lead with a shaming remark. This has not been my experience with women who are younger than me.
• At a recent event, not one woman (out of 20 or so) said, “I’m so sorry that you endured childhood sexual abuse…that your uncle raped you when you were five years old” or “I’m so sorry you endured everything you did with Tony.” Not one. Plenty of them threw shade but no one led with compassion.
• Childhood sexual abuse is still such a taboo topic despite the fact it’s happening at epidemic levels.
• No matter how much I take responsibility for my actions, many women will lead with a shaming statement before an empathetic one. Once they’re sufficiently convinced that I truly am remorseful, they shift to more of a compassionate state of being. I must prove to them first that I’m eternally regretful before they’ll show compassion.

All of this is to say that I think we older generations need to do better. We’ve been conditioned for generations to compete against one another, and it shows. Our subconscious programming drives us to shame and villainize women more than men when it comes to infidelity. When it comes to many things, actually. (Insert America Ferrera’s epic monologue from the Barbie movie.)

So, please know this: if you share vulnerable things with me, know that I’m a safe space. I will be the first to thank you for vulnerably sharing your story and I’ll lead with compassion. Our stories are not one dimensional—they are complicated and layered.

Just like we are.

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About Kiersten Hathcock
Kiersten Hathcock left a marketing career with A&E and The History Channel in 2003 to spend more time with her kids and wound up building an internationally known furniture company called Mod Mom Furniuture out of her 400 square foot garage. After four years of crafting and selling over 300 kids’ furniture items, Kiersten braved ABC’s Shark Tank and won an investment deal. Kiersten's designs have been featured in TV shows, People Magazine, New York Times, LA Times, and international design books. Her award-winning furniture line has been sought after by celebrities, interior designers, and retailers around the globe for over 17 years. Today, Kiersten is an author of LITTLE VOICES, professional speaker, mentor, and the Chief Marketing Officer for Moonshot, a 23-year-old nonprofit that helps entrepreneurs across Arizona and beyond.
kierstenhathcock.com