Sometimes, I remember things I did years ago, the loud laugh that echoed a little too long, the overshared story at dinner, that dramatic Instagram caption, and I physically wince.
My brain replays it in high definition, whispering, “How could I have been so embarrassing?”
That’s the power of cringe. It sneaks up on you like a ghost of your past self, the one who felt too deeply, cared too loudly, and didn’t yet know how to pretend not to care.
For years, I tried to silence that version of me. I’d tuck away the parts that felt “too much”.
The way I laughed with my whole face, the fact that I can’t do those demure smiles other women seem to perfect so easily. Even the way I’d sit cross-legged on a couch when everyone else sat neatly upright felt somehow wrong.
It took a long time to realise that what I called “cringe” was really just me.
The fear of being seen
Somewhere along the way, we were taught that being earnest was embarrassing. That the safest way to exist was to be detached, ironic, a little mysterious, never too invested, never too loud.
We built entire personalities around being “cool” and “nonchalant”. But beneath that armour, many of us are just scared of being seen. Scared of being perceived as “too excited”, “too emotional” or “too passionate”.
It’s hard to pinpoint when “embracing cringe” became a cultural phenomenon. Maybe it was when Taylor Swift told NYU graduates to “learn to live alongside cringe”.
Or when the viral meme, “I am cringe, but I am free”, started circulating on Instagram and TikTok during the pandemic, a time when millions turned boredom into authenticity, posting offbeat dances, quirky hobbies and unfiltered thoughts online.
Suddenly, being cringe wasn’t something to hide; it was something to celebrate.
In a “SubwayTakes” interview, actor Austin Butler said, “Everything you want is on the other side of fear. Embarrassment is an underexplored emotion. Go out there and make a fool of yourself.”
View this post on Instagram
Why do we hide behind nonchalance?
We’ve been taught to hide our excitement, to act like we don’t care too much, because caring too much is… cringe.
But that emotional minimalism comes at a cost. As researcher and author Brené Brown, PhD, explains in her TED Talk on vulnerability, “Vulnerability is the first thing we look for in others and the last thing we want to show.”
In trying to protect ourselves from embarrassment, we often trade authenticity for approval.
A “Psychology Today” article explained that sharing your cringe, embarrassing, human moments is actually a gift to others. It sends a message that you’re imperfect, and that’s okay. You’re still worthy of love and belonging.
Why “cool” is losing its charm
Medium writer Bella Martin puts it beautifully: “Living courageously means living authentically without cutting out the parts you think are unsavoury.”
Cringe, she argues, is the price we pay for expressing ourselves honestly. It’s the growing pain of evolution.
The truth is, “coolness” is starting to feel cold. The quiet detachment we once admired, the carefully curated apathy, is being exposed for what it really is: exhausting!
Social media taught us to hide our enthusiasm, to act unbothered and effortless. But pretending not to care all the time doesn’t make us mysterious; it makes us disconnected. People are realising that ‘cool’ might actually be a cage.
The psychology of embracing cringe
A study in the “Journal of Positive Psychology” found that people who accept uncomfortable emotions like embarrassment tend to have higher emotional resilience and self-esteem. In simple terms: when you stop fighting cringe, you start freeing yourself.
Maybe that’s why nonchalance is getting the cultural side-eye. It’s no longer aspirational to be unbothered; it’s avoidant. When we wear apathy like a badge of honour, we lose access to connection, creativity and joy.
- Practical advice: How can I start embracing my own cringe moments in daily life?
- Personal growth: What are some first steps to move from nonchalance to authenticity?
- Social dynamics: How do I handle negative reactions from others when I show my true self?
- Cultural context: Are there situations where being ‘cringe’ might not be safe or appropriate?
In the end, the real embarrassment isn’t in being “too much”.
It’s in dimming yourself to fit into a world that’s finally tired of pretending not to feel.
