The Upside of Shame

On humility, journalism, and Jayson Blair. Ada Limón. New tunes.

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These Sunday posts are mostly paywalled. But I don't want to exclude anyone, so if the cost is prohibitive or you wish to send TSB to someone you love, contact me. I'll happily pass along a free annual subscription to those who need it most.

Off we go. — AJD

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I can recognize people who have been wrecked by some sort of public or private scandal because we share the same limp. That limp, of course, is plain old shame. I gravitate towards shame. It's cozy over there and relatable. Could you show me yours? Here is mine. Let’s both be ugly and gross.

The problem with this approach is that I have discovered I have a weird arrogance around shame. I treat it like a contest to be won based on who hates themselves the most. How does that saying go? "Guilt means I caused the problem—shame means I am the problem."

See? It's very arrogant to believe that you are the problem. (But I am the problem. I swear. Google me. Type my name into X. Sorry — Bluesky. You'll see.)

This week, we had former New York Times reporter Jayson Blair on The Small Bow podcast, the second time we've spoken in the last four years. For those who need a quick reminder of Jayson's background, in 2003, as a 27-year-old up-and-coming reporter, Jayson was caught plagiarizing and fabricating dozens of stories he wrote while on the national desk at the Times.

Here’s is a quote I read on the podcast from the 14,000-word correction article the Times ran to address some of Jayson's lies and fabrications and also to vanquish the dark energy that had infected their newsroom.

“In an inquiry focused on correcting the record and explaining how such fraud could have been sustained within the ranks of The Times, the Times journalists have so far uncovered new problems in at least 36 of the 73 articles Mr. Blair wrote since he started getting national reporting assignments late last October.”

[This next part – yeesh]

"In the final months the audacity of the deceptions grew by the week, suggesting the work of a troubled young man veering toward professional self-destruction."

"Professional" self-destruction, although daunting, is something most people can actually rebound from. Actual self-destruction, though—there is no coming back from that. Unless help is asked for and then given.

Fortunately for Jayson, he found some, and now he helps others. That's the real beauty of shame—if you get through it and start to dance with it a bit, it can be one of your sharpest tools. But first—first—you have to stop thinking that you are the problem.

I like Jayson. I like what he stands for and what can be achieved with little help, guidance, and grace. I was initially drawn to his story and wanted to reach out to him in 2021 because I felt there was a kinship there – two people who had, in many ways, had their careers and identities nuked after journalism scandals, ones we both caused, nonetheless. During one of our interviews, I said we had both ruined institutions that we loved as much as the people who read it. He quickly corrected me. "A.J. – The New York Times is still around. Gawker is not." He's funny!

But after he said it, something occurred to me. I genuinely don't believe that I ruined anything anymore. I can see my part, fix that part, but also see the more significant part, which has nothing to do with me. This is a monumental shift in my thinking and a healthier, more humble one.

One of my favorite anecdotes Jayson told me the first time we spoke has stuck with me. I've repeated it several times to people in the program, those in a rut, or those convinced that they are the worst people on earth and everyone knows it.

Here's a recap:

He told me that, as he began to get back into 12-step programs, he was uncomfortable in meetings, especially in some of the Manhattan ones where he was bound to be recognized. But he went to one meeting in the less popular side of town, where a woman encouraged him to share. He told her he was a little nervous because of This Huge Public Thing he was too ashamed to talk about. The woman assured him that whatever bad thing he'd done, this was a room full of people who had done much worse.

"There are murderers here," she said.

So Jayson the human went easier on himself.

Now it's your turn to go easy on yourself.