Self-Compassion · 4 min read

Fierce Self-Compassion

Last year I ran a Fierce Self-Compassion book club, exploring Kristin Neff’s work on the tender and fierce sides of self-compassion.

For anyone new to self-compassion, Neff describes it as having both tender and fierce qualities - sometimes described as yin and yang. Tender self-compassion is the part of us that knows how to soothe, comfort and care for ourselves when we are struggling. Fierce self-compassion is the part of us that knows how to protect, act, say no, set boundaries and stand up for what matters.

Much of Neff’s earlier work focused on the tender side of self-compassion: learning to be with ourselves in difficult moments with the same kindness and care we might offer to a dear friend. Many of us, particularly those who have been socialised to care for others, discover that we are far harder on ourselves than we would ever be on someone we love. If we spoke to our friends in the same way we speak to ourselves when we make a mistake, we probably would not have many friends left. Learning to meet ourselves with warmth, patience and care can feel simple, but for many of us it is deeply radical.

There are also good reasons why this does not always come naturally. Our brains evolved to help us survive, which means they are often more alert to danger, mistakes and threats than to ease, pleasure or contentment. Psychologists sometimes call this the negativity bias. If we are alive today, it is fair to assume that our ancestors were the vigilant ones - the ones who noticed the rustle in the bushes and avoided becoming dinner.

Most of us are not being chased by lions now, but our nervous systems can still react as though we are under threat. The “danger” may be criticism, rejection, failure, shame, or the fear that we are not good enough. And often, in an attempt to keep ourselves safe, we become hard on ourselves. The mind that once scanned the horizon for predators may now scan the self for inadequacy. When we criticise ourselves, we become both the attacker and the attacked - and that can be exhausting.

Discovering self-compassion gave me a new awareness of how harsh I had been with myself for much of my life. It also helped me realise that I was not alone in this. So many people carry an inner critic that feels relentless, and so many of us have learned to motivate ourselves through pressure, fear or shame. The practice of self-compassion offers another way. It teaches us to pause, turn towards ourselves, and ask, at the deepest level: What do I need? What do I really need?

Tender self-compassion harnesses the energy of nurturing to alleviate suffering. Fierce self-compassion harnesses the energy of action to alleviate suffering. Tenderness without fierceness can become passive, overly accommodating or afraid to disturb the peace. Fierceness without tenderness can become harsh, hostile or disconnected from care. But when the two are integrated, they become what Neff calls caring force: compassion that can both hold and protect, soothe and act, soften and strengthen.

This feels especially important for those of us who are caretakers, whether personally, professionally or both. It is very easy to become preoccupied with the question, “What does everyone else need?” and forget to include ourselves in the same circle of compassion. Many women, in particular, are socialised to be good, nice, helpful and self-sacrificing — to care for others without asking for too much in return. Anger, desire, ambition and boundary-setting can become difficult to access without guilt.

Highly gendered expectations harm everyone. Women are often encouraged to be pleasing and accommodating, while being socialised away from anger and entitlement. Men, meanwhile, are often harmed by a culture that shames tenderness, vulnerability and emotional openness. I wonder what the world might look like if all of us were supported to develop both sides of compassion: the tender capacity to feel, care and soften, and the fierce capacity to protect, speak and act.

For me, fierce self-compassion is a reminder that compassion is not only gentle. Sometimes compassion is saying no. Sometimes it is leaving the room. Sometimes it is telling the truth. Sometimes it is asking for more. Sometimes it is refusing to abandon yourself.

And perhaps the deepest practice is learning to ask, again and again: