Courage as Motion Amid Fear’s Unsteady Ground
Created at: October 1, 2025
Measure courage by the size of the step you take despite trembling knees. — Toni Morrison
Rethinking Courage: Action Through Fear
To begin, Morrison reframes courage as measured by movement taken while afraid. Rather than equating bravery with numbness to fear, she centers the trembling body as the scene of valor. Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics (c. 350 BC) similarly locates courage between rashness and cowardice: it is wise advance under threat, not reckless charge. Thus, the quake in your knees is not disqualifying; it is data about stakes. The act that follows—that deliberate step—is the measure.
From Fearlessness to Measured Steps
Extending this logic, “size” should be read less as physical distance and more as ethical and personal magnitude: the risk you assume, the values you protect, the reversibility of consequences, and the visibility of dissent. Ironically, Neil Armstrong’s “one small step” (1969) was tiny in stride yet immense in frontier and collective meaning. By this metric, a quiet resignation from a corrupt job can be a larger step than a loud speech that costs nothing. Therefore, courage scales with cost and conscience.
Historical Footsteps That Redefined Scale
History supplies vivid calibrations. Rosa Parks’s refusal on December 1, 1955, required only inches of movement—and a nation shifted. Ernest Shackleton’s South Georgia crossing in 1916, taken with frostbitten feet to rescue his crew, shows bodily fear yoked to duty. Malala Yousafzai’s decision to keep advocating after being shot in 2012, culminating in her 2013 UN address, demonstrates that voice itself can be a step. In each case, knees trembled; the stride still landed, and the scale is clear in hindsight.
The Neuroscience of Shaking and Striding
Moreover, trembling knees have a physiology: the amygdala and sympathetic nervous system flood muscles with adrenaline, preparing flight as much as fight (LeDoux, The Emotional Brain, 1996). Courage, as Stanley Rachman argues in Fear and Courage (1990), is not the absence of arousal but goal-consistent action despite it. Kurt Lewin’s approach-avoidance conflict (1935) explains the tug-of-war; exposure therapy operationalizes progress as graded steps that stretch the approach side. Consequently, the shiver becomes a compass needle, not a stop sign.
Calibrating Your Next Brave Step
In practice, ask four questions: What value is at stake? What cost am I willing to bear? What is the smallest irreversible move forward? Who can witness or support it? Translate answers into an if-then plan—“If the meeting shifts blame, then I will state the facts once and request a review” (Gollwitzer, 1999). Stack steps: send the email, book the appointment, speak the sentence. As momentum accumulates, so does capacity; the knees may still tremble, but the stride grows.
Building Cultures That Honor Trembling Bravery
Finally, courage compounds in community. Teams with psychological safety invite risk-taking and error-reporting, which Amy Edmondson (1999) linked to better learning outcomes. Leaders who narrate their own trembling—see Brené Brown’s Daring Greatly (2012)—normalize the quiver and spotlight the step. Rituals that track attempts rather than only wins, such as “failure forums,” reward the act of moving while afraid. In such cultures, Morrison’s metric becomes everyday practice: we honor how far someone goes, not how steady their legs looked.