As I sit in the playground, I occasionally hear (olay, eavesdrop) parents telling their children to be brave. As a therapist, I often find myself reassuring my clients with statements like “it takes courage, I know…”, but the truth is….what is bravery, really? Is it a feeling, a state of mind, or an action?
My interest in forgotten and simple things led me to the book Brave Dave by Giles Andreae, a heartwarming story about bravery. The protagonist here, a bear named Dave, takes the reader through his pursuit of being brave.
Like the children answering the vocabulary section in IQ assessments, Dave initially believed that being brave meant following instructions, being strong, and being mighty (like his older brother). However, doing all those things never quite reassured him that he was brave. Instead, they only made him feel like he was never enough.
One day, he found the bright colours of flowers, fruits, and grass. He used those colours to make yarn that he then used to stitch beautiful cloaks and clothes. But always the bundle of nerves, he ended up leaving his cave earlier than everyone as he felt scared to share what he was doing in his free time.
Eventually, he decided it was time to share his pursuits. When he shared what he had been working on, he realised it was appreciated and accepted. He soon came to the conclusion that embracing who you truly are, accepting yourself with your vulnerabilities, is indeed, the true definition of bravery.
Bravery is often seen as grand, heroic acts—the firefighter running into a burning building, the activist standing against injustice, the climber scaling Everest. But sometimes, bravery is quieter, subtler. Sometimes, it's about showing up, speaking up, or simply staying present in the face of fear. And one day, a children’s book reminded me of this in the most unexpected way.
That story stuck with me. Not just because it resonated with my son, but because it mirrored something I’ve seen in therapy rooms, in research, and in my own life. Bravery isn’t the absence of fear—it’s the decision to move forward despite it.
Research in psychology defines bravery as the ability to act in the face of fear, uncertainty, or discomfort.
Dr. Cynthia Pury, who studies courage at Clemson University, notes that courage isn’t just about risk-taking—it’s about recognizing fear and choosing to act anyway. She distinguishes between general courage (big, visible acts) and personal courage (the quieter, everyday choices to face our fears). The latter is the kind that transforms lives in ways that often go unnoticed.
In therapy, I often see people who mistake their fear for weakness. A client once told me, “I wish I was brave enough to set boundaries.” What she didn’t realize was that bravery was already in motion—the fact that she wanted to set boundaries, that she was grappling with the discomfort, meant she was on the path. The misconception that bravery feels bold and effortless is exactly what holds so many of us back.
Everyday Bravery Looks Different
Bravery doesn’t always look the way we expect it to.
Speaking up in a meeting when every part of you wants to stay silent? That’s courage.
Choosing to rest when you’ve been conditioned to equate productivity with worth? Also courage.
Showing vulnerability in a culture that celebrates emotional detachment? Tremendously brave.
Dr. Brené Brown’s research on vulnerability highlights that courage is not about being fearless—it’s about embracing uncertainty and still choosing to show up. The fear we experience when taking risks—whether emotional or physical—isn’t a sign to stop; it’s a sign that what we’re doing is meaningful.
In many ways, the scariest thing we can do is allow ourselves to be seen for who we truly are. I’ve watched clients wrestle with this—whether it’s sharing their opinions, admitting they need help, or stepping into roles that intimidate them. Fear tells them, “You’re not ready. You’ll fail. You’ll be judged.” But in every case, when they choose to act despite that fear, they find something surprising: not immediate confidence, but growth.
I think of a friend who was terrified of public speaking. For years, she avoided it entirely. When she finally took the leap and agreed to present at a small event, she didn’t feel brave—she felt nauseous. But she did it. Then she did it again. And over time, the fear didn’t disappear, but it became smaller than her belief in herself.
The beauty of bravery is that it doesn’t require grand gestures. It grows through small, consistent acts of courage. Psychologist Dr. Russ Harris, who specializes in Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), emphasizes that the key to overcoming fear isn’t eliminating it but building a life where fear doesn’t dictate our choices.
Some ways to cultivate everyday bravery:
Acknowledge the fear. Instead of trying to suppress it, name it. “I’m afraid of failing.” “I’m nervous about being judged.”
Take one small step. If confrontation scares you, start with writing an email before having a face-to-face conversation.
Reframe the discomfort. Instead of seeing fear as a stop sign, view it as a signal that you’re growing.
Seek out role models. Seeing others navigate their fears can normalize your own.
Reflect on past courage. Remind yourself of times you’ve done things that once seemed impossible.
That night, as I closed the book and tucked my son into bed, I realized something: the way we talk about courage matters. If we only celebrate bravery when it looks dramatic, we miss the quiet, daily acts of courage that shape who we are. The small animal in the book didn’t defeat a monster or save the world—but it took a step, and then another. And that was enough.
So, if you’re waiting to feel brave before you take action, consider this: bravery isn’t a feeling. It’s a choice. And sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is simply begin.
