I recently had a conversation with some friends in which they made fun of someone simply for doing something they deemed “cringe,” and while I usually agree with such sentiments, this particular instance didn’t sit right with me. Maybe it was because it wasn’t the ironic-brainrot-overly-exaggerated type of cringe content you see online. It was just someone in real life, having a fun time, enjoying life.
And I envied that—that carefree enjoyment. I realized it was so much worse to be the person judging than to feel the fear of being judged. I felt shameful that we were talking about someone like that and asked who were we to judge— we’re all cringe at times aren’t we?
When I was a teen I had a severe fear of being judged by others (okay fine, I still do as a twenty-one year old). I was anxious about the way I talked, the way I looked, how I carried myself at all times. One time in middle school I was listening to music and when asked what song I was listening to, I couldn’t think of an answer that would seem cool enough so the person who asked me guessed that it was “the ABC’s.”
Around this time I was very deep into fandom culture. I was on Wattpad, AO3, Fanfiction.net, Instagram, and Basically Tumblr (I followed all the Tumblr text posts accounts on Instagram). I was heavily into Twenty One Pilots, thus beginning my Emo phase. I wore an alternating pattern of either a Harry Potter shirt or a band t-shirt to school, steeling myself for trivia lest anyone assumed I was a fake fan.
I called myself cringe before anyone else could get the chance to. I anticipated the judgement of the world and cast it upon myself as a sort of protective barrier, preemptively hating myself so that I could be numb to the judgment of others.
Why was this even happening? Because I didn’t trust that a 14-year old girl could just like her interests without it being deemed “cringe.” And surely enough, a few years later I was looking back on this time in disgust and shame, rather than respect and nostalgia.
It took me a while to start to unlearn the societal perception of what it means to be “cringe.” And, well, I’m probably still healing.
But over the years, I started to just accept it. I leaned into it. I started to be more unapologetic about liking the things I want to like, doing the things I want to do.
I can’t even begin to describe how much happier you feel when you just learn to embrace what you like as a part of yourself, as a part of your core. To chase after things. To try, to fail, to learn.
I’m still afraid of failure. But I’m also just trying not to care what other people think of my failures.
I love making bad puns and jokes (even when they don’t land—because I found it funny, that’s all that matters). I love blasting music in my car to have karaoke in the morning or late at night. I wear the band tees with pride. I go to conventions, I wear cosplay. I spam comments in ALL CAPS!!1!! on my favorite fan edits.
I know it’s a big step to be authentic, especially when you’re accustomed to hiding behind a wall of irony or self-deprecation. Being one’s true self is a constant struggle. There’s always going to be people who try to bring others down solely because of their own sense of self-worth and how they view the world. But you don’t have to be part of that. You can be kind and authentic. You can always choose to be cringe and be free.
