then let it be cringe!
cringe is the new free. more cringe, please
Cringe is truth!
Cringe is authenticity!
I… think?
You know what, I don’t really know. But I am shooting this into the dark in the hopes that people understand what I mean. Today I want to discuss the phenomenon of “cringe.” I’m pretty sure people out there are already unpacking what cringe means, so that ground is covered. But I more so want to advocate for the fact that I will not judge you when you are cringe. I will not shy away from you when you are cringe. I implore you to stop being upset and scared of being cringe.
To me, cringe is not something you exert effort in doing. Cringe is actually the negative space — the “symptom” of a deep allowance of yourself.
Embracing your cringe requires you to allow the cringe to emerge. Everyone has those cringe parts.
Every time I see something “cringe” on social media, I get excited because it’s an opening into a greater meaning, an opportunity for a conversation and a discussion. In my utopian vision, everyone is down to allow cringe to come out. Because it’s only then, that we have to reckon with what is real.
I consider myself quite cringe. I dial it back on occasion because I still need to live with myself, but I find often it is the stuff I winced at most, that set someone free. And I want to be around free people.
I believe we shouldn’t always be cringe, and always showing it. But I believe that in radically allowing yourself to be your true self, cringe should inevitably show up in the public-facing sphere. Drowning in it isn’t kosher though — but if you allow it, it won’t become your master.
“Trying” to be cringe also isn’t the point. I think often, we censor ourselves before we say the real thing we want to, or we don’t want to be nerdy because we’re afraid it is “cringe.” We’re afraid of judgment. Namely our own. Judgment is what keeps us chained.
As the dictionary defines its usage here, “cringe” relates to an acute feeling of embarrassment or awkwardness. We tend to shy away from those, but what if we leaned in because those urges to lean out are what makes us more human? And what makes people SEE us as human?
Cringe is the antithesis to social media perfection. Cringe is often unintentionally genuine, a radical act in the face of most performative tomfoolery.
Society wants sincerity, but often needs flaming reminders of what that looks like. And not the pathetic kind, the kind that expects you to answer to it. No, I’m talking about sincerity that’s checked itself for all its demons and is just here to let the world by shaken by its very presence.
Enter “cringe” — the paradigm breaker, the anti-status phenomenon to end all anti-status phenomenon. Cringe transcends all social propriety, knowing that often the best way to break down our walls is when our expectations explode. Cringe is a large torch, a moving target. It sucks because you’ll attract people that don’t like it, but how else will you find who does?
I don’t think people who actively try to be cringe as a weird edgy anti-establishment thing are truly allowing themselves to be cringe. Often, being cringe is being a foil to what your environment affords. It’s daring to be the antithesis.
At a certain point, one may believe that one is so cringe that one simply ceases to care about whether it is cringe or not. I think this is the sweet spot for me. I’m an advocate for this because, well, that’s where all your honesty lives, irregardless of who agrees. Cringe is where your true wellspring of life is. If society didn’t have some people with some parts of their psyche on the fringe, well, society would be doomed.
I advocate for being “cringe,” even if it’s hard, because often it is only the perception of a social taboo I’m about to break that helps me refine my relationship to “forbidden behavior.” My reward is I’ve exposed myself to those who I seek to find me. If I didn’t have cringe, I could’ve never tasted true companionship.
Do cringe for your worst haters, because even they need you to be cringe.
They’ll possibly hate-read your words, being like, “damn, look at the balls on this kid, I want to never be like him ahaha but why can’t I tear myself away from looking at this train wreck.” You’re a vital part of their ecosystem of needs; isn’t it nice to be useful?
Or they’ll admire you and be like, “damn, this person reminded me I also have guts, so I’ll go and say something achingly honest as well haha!”
Notice how in both cases, people outright admired you, for better or for worse?
Also, I’ve been both people, not going to lie. Even if my initial reaction is “hate-read,” it turns into begrudging admiration at some point. This is a good thing, I believe.
Cringe gets the people going. Cringe tends to beget people to have a rousing reaction, for better or for worse.
Also, I’ll say that maybe using that gif was wrong. I have wondered if cringe is not inherently controversial, if its purpose is not to offend — for example, racists who are spewing hate speech aren’t “cringe”. I also think that when someone’s trying to piss you off, and you’re almost more pissed because you know they’re trying, it doesn’t constitute “cringe.” That may not be “cringe” so much as “irritating.” Often cringe in of itself feels kind of harmless?
Ostensibly, often the cringe that is humiliating and makes people want to avoid it, is on the occasions in which someone has tried really hard, and it’s clear they want the reaction, but they’re not violently begging you to give it.
Yet I think cringe is really edgy when it’s honest and is almost devoid of scanning for a reaction. The catch is! You can’t just say things just to get a result. They have to have an undercurrent of steely dedication to the process itself. Like be proud while you’re tapping away at creating your cringe content.
IN a sense, it seems you have to open your mouth and be like, “I said it, kayy” when uttering cringe maxims, and also be prepared for it to be taken in the best possible way: starting a conversation. Not a conversation in which you’re challenged on the basis for your cringe, but by which, perhaps another individual might be inclined to want to explore your cringe.
So then is it for attention? I don’t believe so. I think “cringe” at its best is both a declaration of who you are, but a total also relief at it. A serenity. Not a longing for validation that it’s okay to be cringe, but a full on body surrender about all of it.
Cringe doesn’t have the same effect. There’s a visceral difference between mentally scanning some words you just wrote, going, “gee, I don’t really like this,” and wincing at your writing because of how goddamn earnest it was.
And someone out there, like it or not, needs you to be this earnest. You won’t gain status maybe objectively — but you might save someone from the prison of their own sealed mouth. Isn’t that a heroic feat?
I think good writing exists at the intersection of saying the things no one wants to say and at the intersection of things that you need to say in order to grow a garden and find others to tend to your vegetables.
This is the key point for why writing for yourself is important — ultimately, it’s a bat signal for those out there that want to see you.
And the “cringe people” tend to find each other. They take up more attention but also are more relatable, less of “polished archetypes” online. They tend to become friends with other cringe people celebrating cringe on the basis that they experience the world similarly, through the same pain of the humiliation of being themselves in a world that’s dedicated to being cool.
To actively allow for your cringest self to emerge is also the ultimate practice here.
Everyone wants to be away from the tyranny of the need for status. But even if you admit you want status, yet forgo it anyway, it is still a heroic and freeing act.
Every time I don’t let myself grit my teeth, bang my head on the keyboard and bellow, WHY AM I LIKE THIS, as an artist but choose to be myself anyway despite the self judgment – I lose something precious. And I’ve worked hard at keeping that in tact.
I don’t want to be sucking on the tit of collectivist approval, because then I’d lose my social momentum. I’d lose the ability to be with myself, and lose steam in interacting with so many people. I’d drown in the “warm piss Jacuzzi of people who want to fit in,” as my friend aptly also puts it.
I can’t speak for everyone, but here is my call to action. I want you to say the cringe things. I want you to be shy while you say them, not needing anything but to be yourself. I believe letting yourself be cringe is to let yourself be free. And free people free other unfree people.
I need a society that’s free. I want you to have that too.
I seek for you to be cringe if that feels true to you, because it’s my responsibility to also allow it. I really cherish want you to be yourself, but have a shameless vibe about it. Most people really want to read it, for it gives them permission. The world is dying for you to be your most cringe self. Please, for the love of god, lean into your cringe.
Often, we don’t have to try to be cringe to successfully do it. We just have to remind ourselves that somewhere, someone wants a friend like you. A friend that can embrace the cringe with them. Cringe communities!
Time for me to start one, huh?
Can’t wait to let it be cringe.
My favourite part of this piece was "I don’t want to be sucking on the tit of collectivist approval," for that is me too. Thank you for writing this. :)