The Courage to Be Vulnerable: Why Small Steps Can Take Great Strength

How much courage does it take to sign up for a Pilates class? To send a message? To post a drawing you've created on your status for others to see? How much courage does it take to do the things we genuinely want to do but somehow cannot bring ourselves to attempt? And perhaps the most important question of all: How much courage does it take to allow ourselves to be vulnerable?

In June 2010, a relatively unknown researcher stepped onto the TED stage to discuss her work on The Power of Vulnerability. That researcher was Brené Brown, and her talk would become one of the most widely viewed TED presentations in the world, inspiring millions to reconsider their relationship with vulnerability.

Brown challenged the common assumption that vulnerability is a sign of weakness. Instead, she presented it as an expression of courage—the willingness to experience uncertainty, emotional exposure, and the possibility of rejection in order to live more authentically and connect more deeply with others. Her message is especially relevant to the countless moments in everyday life when fear holds us back from doing something that matters to us.

The Courage to Face an Ordinary Fear

This week, I needed a considerable amount of courage myself. I had an appointment at my health fund's dental clinic for a procedure I had been dreading: a tooth extraction. It took courage to get out of bed that morning, courage to board the bus, and, as I am discovering now, courage to tell you about it.

Surprisingly, the extraction itself was relatively easy—as easy as having a part of your body removed can possibly be. There were no stitches, the procedure was quick, and I felt no pain at the time. Of course, the hours afterward called for strong painkillers. Don't worry, I made sure to buy some.

After the procedure, I walked into the pharmacy, still trembling slightly as the anxiety that had gripped me slowly began to subside. And then I noticed someone familiar. Sitting on a chair in the pharmacy was a woman with her arm in a cast and supported by a fabric sling. I recognized her immediately. It was Rebbetzin Yemima Mizrachi, whose weekly Torah teachings I have been printing and reading for years. I was genuinely excited to meet her.

An Unexpected Encounter With the Past

What surprised me even more was the memory that suddenly resurfaced. Approximately fourteen years earlier, I had encountered the Rebbetzin on the street under remarkably similar circumstances. Back then, too, I had just undergone a tooth extraction—although that experience had been particularly traumatic. I remembered approaching her and saying, “Rebbetzin, I've just had a tooth extracted. Please give me a blessing.”

And now, fourteen years later, here we were again, meeting under almost identical circumstances. This time, before asking her for a blessing, I wished her a complete and speedy recovery from her broken arm. She smiled and then offered me a blessing as well.

There was something about this unexpected repetition that made me pause and reflect. Who was I fourteen years ago? And who am I today?

The Small Acts of Courage Nobody Sees

As I thought about the years that had passed, I began to recognize just how often courage has been required of me in situations that might appear perfectly ordinary to someone else. Making a medical appointment. Registering for a fitness class. Sharing something personal. Posting a drawing I created.

For someone unaccustomed to sharing their creative work publicly, posting a drawing can feel like an enormous act of emotional exposure. Something that was once entirely private suddenly becomes visible to others. A piece of yourself is now out in the world, where people are free to form opinions about it, whether positive or negative. I remember the first time I considered posting one of my drawings. It took me an entire day to gather the courage.

To an outside observer, these activities might look like simple tasks that can be written on a calendar in a few words. Nobody sees the hours of hesitation, the internal debate, or the emotional effort that may precede them. But the courage required to take a step isn't necessarily determined by how impressive that step appears to others. Sometimes, the smallest actions demand the greatest effort because of what they represent to the person taking them.

Why Vulnerability Is an Act of Courage

This is precisely what makes Brené Brown's message so powerful. Vulnerability is not limited to dramatic confessions or deeply personal conversations. It can appear whenever we allow ourselves to be seen without knowing how others will respond.

We experience it when we try something unfamiliar, express a genuine opinion, share something we've created, or acknowledge that we're frightened. The possibility of criticism, embarrassment, or disappointment can make these moments feel threatening. Avoiding them may offer temporary relief, but it can also prevent us from pursuing experiences that are meaningful to us.

Courage does not necessarily mean feeling confident or unafraid. Sometimes, it simply means acknowledging the fear and choosing to act anyway. And perhaps that is why so many seemingly ordinary decisions deserve more credit than we give them.

Sometimes Sharing the Story Takes the Most Courage

Writing this column has required courage, too. In just a moment, you will finish reading these words, and you will know something about me that I could easily have chosen to keep private. I could have written about courage without mentioning my dental appointment, my anxiety, or the hesitation I experience before doing things that others might find simple. But then I would have missed an opportunity to practice the very lesson I wanted to share.

Perhaps somewhere, a woman has spent an entire day wondering whether she should do something that feels both right for her and incredibly difficult. Those two feelings often seem to arrive together. Maybe she wants to take a class, begin a new project, reach out to someone, or share a small piece of herself with the world. Maybe the only thing standing between her and that decision is the fear of being seen.

And perhaps reading these words will help her find the courage to take that step. If my willingness to be vulnerable helps even one person make a decision that brings her joy, then sharing this story was worth it.

Because sometimes courage isn't about doing something extraordinary. It's about allowing ourselves to do the ordinary things that matter to us, even when they frighten us.