Shame Is Not a Personal Failing. It Is a Social and Intergenerational Force.

Shame is one of the most powerful and misunderstood forces shaping human behaviour. In my work as a mental health professional, I see its impact across many settings—within families, religious systems, recovery spaces, and the broader culture we all live in. Most people think of shame as a private emotion, something internal that shows up when we believe we have failed. But shame is rarely just personal. It is relational, cultural, and often passed down across generations. Many people are carrying shame that did not start with them. 

Researcher and author Brené Brown has helped clarify this in an important way. She describes shame as the deeply painful belief that “I am bad,” “I am unworthy,” or “I don’t belong.” Shame is often confused with guilt, but they are not the same. Guilt says, I did something wrong. Shame says, there is something wrong with me. Guilt can support responsibility and repair. Shame attacks identity. When shame is active, people don’t move toward growth or connection—they tend to shut down, hide, become defensive, or numb themselves. 

This distinction matters in mental health and addiction work. Shame does not help people change. In fact, it often keeps people stuck. Shame activates the nervous system in ways that reduce flexibility, insight, and self-trust. It increases isolation and makes reaching out feel risky or unsafe. From a clinical standpoint, shame doesn’t just follow addiction or mental health struggles—it often helps maintain them. Patterns like avoidance, secrecy, and relapse are not signs of weakness or lack of willpower. They are predictable responses to chronic shame. 

It is also important to understand that shame is not created only within individuals. Shame is frequently transmitted through families, cultures, and historical trauma. Research on intergenerational trauma shows that when communities experience prolonged violence, oppression, or dehumanization, the emotional impact does not simply disappear with time. Descendants of Holocaust survivors, for example, often carry heightened levels of shame, fear, and hypervigilance, even when the original trauma was never openly discussed. Similar patterns have been observed in communities affected by slavery, war, displacement, and systemic marginalization. 

In Canada, this is especially relevant when considering the experiences of First Nations, Inuit, and Métis peoples. The impacts of colonization, residential schools, cultural suppression, and ongoing systemic inequities have created deep layers of intergenerational shame. These were not individual psychological failures. They were the result of policies designed to break connection, identity, and belonging. Healing shame in these contexts requires acknowledgment, accountability, and culturally grounded approaches—not blame or individualization. 

Shame also adapts to its environment. In families, it can appear as criticism, comparison, emotional withdrawal, or conditional approval. In religious settings, shame may be tied to morality or worthiness, making mistakes feel like threats to belonging. In modern Western culture, shame often hides behind productivity, self-improvement, and success narratives. Vulnerability is praised in theory but mocked in practice. Online, shame is amplified through ridicule, moral superiority, and public shaming—often framed as honesty or accountability. 

One reason shame is so difficult to challenge is that it often presents itself as helpful. Many people were taught that shame would make them better, stronger, or more disciplined. The evidence tells a different story. Shame shuts down learning and connection. It narrows perspective and increases self-attack. Clinical resources such as the NICABM shame infographic (https://s3.amazonaws.com/nicabm-stealthseminar/Shame17/infographic/NICABM-Infographic-Shame.pdf) illustrate this clearly, showing how shame interferes with growth, while guilt—when not weaponized—can support repair and responsibility. 

Healing shame does not mean avoiding accountability or minimizing harm. It means creating conditions where people can face their struggles without losing their sense of worth. Therapeutic approaches that are particularly effective in working with shame include trauma-informed therapy, nervous system–based and somatic approaches, parts-based work such as Internal Family Systems, compassion-focused therapy, and relational approaches that emphasize safety and attunement. Across these models, the same principle applies: shame softens in environments of safety, empathy, and connection—not through punishment or self-criticism. 

If we want healthier individuals and communities, we need to become more honest about how often shame is used as a tool of control rather than care. Naming shame is a starting point. Learning to tell the difference between responsibility and self-attack is another. Many people are working far harder than they need to—not because they lack motivation, but because shame has convinced them they are fundamentally flawed. 

If shame has shaped how you see yourself, your relationships, or your ability to ask for help, therapy can be a place to work with this safely and without judgment. You do not need to carry shame alone, and you do not need to earn your way out of it. 

References 

Brown, B. (2012). Daring Greatly. Gotham Books. 
Brown, B. (2015). Rising Strong. Spiegel & Grau. 
Brown, B. (2021). Atlas of the Heart. Random House. 

National Institute for the Clinical Application of Behavioral Medicine (NICABM). (2017). Shame and the Brain [Infographic]. https://www.nicabm.com 

Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and Recovery. Basic Books. 
van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score. Viking. 

Yehuda, R., & Lehrner, A. (2018). Intergenerational transmission of trauma effects. World Psychiatry, 17(3), 243–257. 

Bombay, A., Matheson, K., & Anisman, H. (2014). Intergenerational effects of Indian Residential Schools. Transcultural Psychiatry, 51(3), 320–338.