Vulnerability as collective strength

NEXT Library 2025 attendees sing Ben E. King's "Stand By Me" while speakers (L-R) Tommi Laitio, Shamichael Hallman and Stacie Ledden sing along. Aarhus Public Libraries staffer and musician Peter Jørgensen leads the group on bass. Photo by Sophie Dreijer.

“Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.”

— Brené Brown, Daring Greatly

When everything in the world feels like rough, sharp edges, it’s the soft things that will mold and bend, reform and regenerate. Every headline may feel like a little piece of your heart chipped out with a blade. But it’s the joyous sparks and comforting hands of our friends, family, music, nature, art, literature, togetherness, surprising interactions with strangers, learning something new, civic power and the profound work, strength and inspiration of all those who have come before us that put those little pieces back in place. And give us hope.

As my colleagues Shamichael Hallman, Tommi Laitio and I discussed how to approach our NEXT Library 2025 keynote, “Why We Show Up: Cultivating Hope in Uncertain Times,” we talked about vulnerability. We knew that this moment in time called for something more personal when discussing democracy and libraries. We’re all seeking fortitude. Reflecting on why we do the work that we do – and creating space for these shared reflections – felt like the best way to develop this. 

Video of the May 27, 2025, keynote at Dokk1 in Aarhus, Denmark, courtesy of NEXT Library

We had a powerful discussion at Anythink once about trust and vulnerability that has stayed with me. One position was that trust had to be built first before there could be vulnerability. My belief is that by taking the risk of being vulnerable, sharing a bit of who you are and opening that curtain, you are able to build trust and connect authentically. It’s risky. It’s uncomfortable. And not all spaces may encourage or allow for it. But the payoff is tenfold when you’re able to connect with another human being by sharing your authentic self, especially while bridging real or perceived differences. 

When we’re talking about coming together in community, whether convening in libraries, churches, parks or streets, our authentic stories and experiences create the bonds that tie us together. They can be vastly different, but the knowing and seeing fuel the showing up for each other. Which is exactly what this moment in time calls for – more vulnerability, more authentic connection, and more shared reminders for ourselves and others about why we do the work we do – as library staff, as activists, as artists, as the conveners and caretakers in our families and communities, as human beings. 

Vulnerability often doesn’t come naturally. It takes practice. And courage, as Dr. Brené Brown would say. Even for someone like me who wears their heart on their sleeve and their emotions on their face, I have my own quirky, long-forged walls. But the evils we're currently up against are counting on us to grow hard, impenetrable shells to keep each other out. To confuse us and numb us. With vulnerability as our collective strength, we can let each other in, along with the love and understanding to move forward together. 

These are some of the thoughts I’ve had since last week’s keynote. I think attendees were a bit surprised by just how vulnerable we all were and the space that was created for their own vulnerability. People were grateful for it, although it felt like there was a thread of surprise and, “I didn’t know how much I needed that.” 

After we shared our individual stories, we had a short discussion, and then gave attendees the opportunity to think about why they show up. They could choose to fill out a postcard and address it to themselves. These precious notes will be mailed back to them around the world as reminders. To conclude the session, we came together in song, singing Ben E. King's "Stand By Me," tears streaming down many of our faces.

Why do YOU show up? Share your own reflections in the comments below or email me with your thoughts. 

NEXT Library Festival attendees from around the world filled out postcards answering the prompt, "I show up because..." These postcards will be mailed to them in the coming weeks as reminders of hope and vulnerability as our collective strength.

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Watch a clip or read the transcript of my 7-minute civic sermon to learn more about why I show up.