To go in the dark with a light is to know the light. To know dark, go dark—go without sight. And find that the dark, too, blooms and sings and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.

—Wendell Berry

To those dark places in you, the ones you might rather not know: welcome.

Come! Pull up a chair.

Join us in the light.

Welcome—what is "knowshame"?

My journey with shame is long and familiar. It sounds like:

"I'm disgusting."
"I have no friends."
"If anyone really knew me, they sure wouldn't like what they see."

And sometimes, regrettably, these voices run the show. I avert my eyes from a loving gaze—"don't come over here, it's so foul. I don't want to taint you, too."

I've hurt people with my refusal to let them love me.

But I'm not damaged goods, and neither are you.

We—each of us—arrives fully loaded, elders in training.

— Malidoma Somé

Why "knowshame"?

It's a play on words. It sounds like "no shame," which is true. Say no to shame. Say no to shaming behavior and language.

It also acknowledges that to heal from shame requires bringing it into the light. You can't just "get over" it, you have to know it.

It's like that old kids' tale:
Can't go over it.
Can't go under it.
Have to go through it.

So it is with shame: we have to go through it, and we cannot do that alone.

So get to know shame, yours and others.

My vision:

A world without toxic shame

Toxic shame does no good. It corrodes our sense of worth, belonging, and dignity. It drives us to hide, to withdraw, to lash out. It makes us small, brittle, and afraid.

It's not just an individual wound. It is one of the primary ways systems of domination sustain themselves.

White supremacy, colonialism, patriarchy—these forces rely on shame to sustain themselves.

The voices that say, "you are too much, not enough, dangerous, defective, replaceable."

Toxic shame breaks down the bonds of community.

Indeed, some might even say, "fuck shame."

The full story of "FUCK SHAME"

Many years back a mentor, guide, and grandfather figure of mine, Michael Sherlock, said a prayer for shame that has stuck with me. (This comes through Michael via Martin Lazoff):

Fuck shame! I am somebody!

This is what I want to send out into the world. "People," I'm ready to scream. "It is time we move on from the shame!"

The word "fuck" for some people can help them to jump out of a frozen place and activate toward healing.

It's a reminder that you matter.

knowshame.org is my love letter to the healing waters of our shame

I learned early in my journey to heal my shame that healthy shame is actually a good thing.

What is healthy shame, you ask?

If toxic shame says, "I'm bad," healthy shame says, "I did something bad."

At it's heart, healthy shame is a compass that orients us to our values.

As we learn to stay present with our own shame, we grow the capacity to stay present with discomfort, difference, and repair.

We learn how to be accountable without collapsing, and how to belong without pretending.

Collective freedom emerges when people can remain in relationship—especially when things get hard. Shame work restores that possibility.

It loosens the hold of inherited harm so it is not passed on.

To know shame—rather than be driven by it

Healthy shame is a natural and necessary part of human development. It's the internal sense of right and wrong that helps us navigate relationships and social norms.

On a communal level, healthy shame acts like bowling gutters bouncing us toward the pins of our fullest light.

Toxic shame is destructive. We don't need it. Fuck that, I am somebody.

The shop is open.

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About me

My name is Cameron Carrick.

I’m a writer, facilitator, and lifelong student of what helps people come back into relationship—with themselves, with one another, and with what gives life meaning.

I’ve spent years working in spaces where shame hides in plain sight: leadership, work, masculinity, family systems, spirituality, and social change. I’ve seen how easily shame dresses itself up as competence, righteousness, productivity, or self-improvement—and how costly that disguise can be.

I don’t believe shame is defeated by positivity or performance. I believe it loosens its grip when it is met with attention, language, grief, anger, dignity, and love—often in that order, and rarely all at once.

Learn more about me here.