In the world of coaching and self-improvement, the name Brené Brown comes up A LOT. For the sake of disclosure, I never really got into her work, which isn't a reflection on it one way or another---just how it goes sometimes. Also, it doesn't really matter.

This isn't actually about her.

This is about her people---the people in her circle who look to her for guidance and inspiration. The ones who read her words on the regular, who listen to interviews and podcasts and gush to their acquaintance about how this or that book "will change your life."

This is about what they did.

In February, Brown published a blog post about the genocide in Gaza that put occupier and occupied on the same level, speaking to the senseless injustice felt by "both sides," and, worse, to the rights of an occupying force to "defend itself." The post is unoriginal and unimaginative in its call for a return to order over lasting peace through decolonization---but I digress because, again, this is not about that.

This is about what happened in the comments.

Almost every comment was from by someone compelled to speak against Brown's misguided stance. And it brought me to tears---

Not just because seeing unfettered love for Palestine and liberation always brings me to tears---but because I was floored by the care and compassion of these souls taking the times to call someone in.

They were engaged in the loving act of accountability.

Accountability is so often received as an attack, criticism or shaming. Even when we struggle to reframe it as an "opportunity to do better" it feels like a shoddy paint job more than something we might find agreeable or even enjoyable in our hearts.

This is intentional: The white supremacist capitalist patriarchy teaches us to shun accountability as a threat. Why? Accountability undermines hierarchical systems---from institutional chains of command to systemic oppression. We're taught to fear and avoid accountability *because* it strengthens us as a collective. Because it creates alternatives oppression and exploitation by creating a system of divestment from the hegemony.

It's balance. It's abundance. It's liberation.

Accountability *is* love.

Not only because it's a path away from harm, but because it's rooted in the belief that a person (or a people) is capable of changing. The belief in the nearness of radical liberation.

Criticism usually comes cheaply---especially when thrown out as a quip to dismiss or disempower the person on the receiving end.

Accountability, on the other hand, is never free: The ask for accountability comes from a deeply vulnerable place. The person asking is investing their energy in the hope future outcomes will be different. While there's great potential for empowerment, it doesn't come from a place of empowerment. Like an animal that grows by shedding it's hardened shell, holding someone accountable means needing to experience extreme vulnerability to become more powerful.

This is true regardless of tone or wording---whether it's presented in patient kindness or righteous anger or frustrated overwhelm, the fact is that accountability is loving by nature of it's imperfect delivery. It's subversion, a push against an invisible wave of harm. While undertaking something so powerful, what expectation could we even have for it to be framed gently or in some perfectly digestible way? Where is the mutuality in that? Where is the respect for the vulnerability of the asker?

Accountability isn't a one-off---it's an investment. It's a call for a thoughtful change. Each situation asks, what does accountability look like? How do we get there? Is repair possible? By what means?

This isn't to say that the target of accountability is necessarily loved; when we seek to hold violent people accountable, it usually isn't with love for that person. But this doesn't stop it being an inherently loving act because it's still rooted in the belief that we, as a people, can be and do better. That harm shouldn't be normalized or ignored. It's that belief, that practice of hope, that's filled with love and generosity.

Personally, though, I believe that in most cases, the call for accountability *is* made with love for the person it's being asked of.

If you believe accountability is a loving act, what would that shift about how you might receive it? What would it change about your willingness to hold someone you care about accountable?

For me, it changes the very fiber of what's possible---as both a vicious advocate and as a caring collaborator who seeks alignment in my impact and intention. Instead of fear, I find myself seeking accountability. Receiving it warmly and sharing it with the same generosity. I care less about the tone or framing, and instead can let myself focus on the content. Sure, there are times on the receiving end that I fuck up my fuck up by retreating into shame or avoidance---but now at least it's easier to find my way back to solidarity.

Again, because I do not really follow Brené Brown, this is as far as my attention to this post goes. I don't know if/how she apologized or honored her people for their thoughtfulness and care. I hope she did. In any case, we can honor them.

Before I sign off---I'm sure you've seen the horrors in Rafah, Gaza that have been unleashed since Sunday. Join me in finding whatever means you can to throw sand in the gears of the death machine. Call on your representatives and institutions to divest from Israel. Go to a protest in Brooklyn, Paris, Mexico City or wherever you are (wear a mask! for your safety and others). Continue to send eSIMs to Gazans (if you're not sure how to do this you can also donate to this amazing fund). Or be with yourself, if that's the most pressing: Question what it means to only support "peaceful protestors" as a response to violent occupation---or to equate the safety of property with the safety of people.

If you're new to speaking out or standing up, be practical over ambitious: What sounds easy, fun, accessible to you, right now from where you are? The most impactful action you can take is the one you follow through on.

Love + Solidarity,

Sam

P.S. - Most of the comments in the screenshots were shortened to fit into this format. You can see all of them on the original post here. Keep in mind that some of the content on this page may be triggering as it engages in gaslighting and dismissal of Palestinian/oppressed people's pain.

P.P.S. A word on cancel culture: Cancel culture comes from a lack of accountability, not an overreach. In a society where accountability is warmly embraced and integrated, people would not have the opportunity to create so much damage before it meets the public eye. I actually have a lot more thoughts on cancel culture but without going on a tangent let me just say, that most of where we hear "cancel culture" bandied about it does not seem to have a comparable impact on the career and finances of the person being canceled as that person had on the live and security of those they harmed. However, you feel about it---integrating more accountability into our relationships makes cancel culture irrelevant.