There’s a strange feeling that arises when we reflect on our past selves—a mix of discomfort, embarrassment, and even amusement. Cringe. It’s as if we’re witnessing a version of ourselves trying to navigate the world, but with a sense of awkwardness that, in hindsight, seems almost unbearable. Why is it that the things that once filled us with confidence now make us wince?
The Paradox of Cringe and Nostalgia
It’s curious how cringe and nostalgia can coexist. I look back on old social media posts, where I was so convinced that I was “cool,” only to cringe now at the very same images that once gave me a sense of pride. But within that cringe is something more complex—nostalgia for the excitement, the certainty I had back then. Even if I wasn’t “cool,” I believed I was. And in some way, that belief itself was a kind of power.
Is it delusion? Perhaps. But it’s a delusion that carries meaning. It was a moment of exploration, of self-expression, even if it wasn’t perfect. Can we really dismiss those younger selves who were, in their own way, trying to figure things out? Isn’t there something profound in that earnest attempt, even if it now makes us cringe?
Why Do We Cringe?
Cringe, it seems, arises from the tension between the self we were and the self we are now. It’s the recognition that we’ve grown, that our understanding of what’s “cool” or socially acceptable has shifted. But it’s more than just a social misstep. When we cringe, we’re seeing the gap between how we wanted to be seen and how we now perceive those efforts. It’s a kind of mirror that reflects both our past ambitions and our current self-awareness.
Cringe isn’t just embarrassment—it’s a confrontation with the fragility of our own image. And perhaps, it’s that fragility that makes the feeling so intense. When we see someone else trying too hard to impress, we might cringe at their vulnerability, their overreach, because it reminds us of those moments when we, too, were trying to project something we weren’t quite sure of.
Are We Going Through an Epidemic of Cringe?
In many ways, it feels like we are living in an epidemic of cringe. The rise of platforms like TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube has made it easier than ever for people to share their most vulnerable and, often, awkward moments with the world. And many social media critics point out that much of this content seems to add little value to culture, instead serving as a form of spectacle—fleeting, superficial, and sometimes absurd.
But is it really an epidemic, or are we simply seeing more of what has always existed—people experimenting with self-expression, often awkwardly, in the pursuit of validation or connection? The internet has magnified these moments, making them more visible and, perhaps, more common. But the cringe itself isn’t new.
Some argue that much of this content is meaningless, that it’s “cringy nonsense” with no lasting substance. And it’s easy to see their point—much of what goes viral is superficial, designed to entertain or shock rather than to contribute anything meaningful. Yet, there’s something deeper at play here. Perhaps what we’re witnessing is not just an epidemic of cringe, but a reflection of our collective search for connection in an age of social media, where validation is measured by likes, views, and comments.
The Cringe-Value Debate
The critique that cringey content adds no value to culture brings up an important question: what does add value to culture? If we define culture as a shared set of beliefs, expressions, and ideas that help us make sense of the world, then much of what we consider cringeworthy might feel like noise—temporary, shallow, and devoid of deeper meaning.
But is it fair to dismiss it all as meaningless? After all, what one person sees as cringe, another might view as genuine self-expression. There’s a subjective element to what we consider valuable, and some might find joy or humor in the absurdity of what’s shared online. In a strange way, cringe can become its own form of entertainment, a way to bond with others through shared discomfort.
Still, the concern that much of this content lacks substance is valid. It’s easy to get caught up in the pursuit of fleeting validation, posting for the dopamine hit of likes rather than for the deeper satisfaction of creating something lasting. The more we chase surface-level recognition, the more likely we are to produce content that feels hollow.
Why Do We Cringe at Others’ Content?
The epidemic of cringe might say more about us, the viewers, than it does about the creators. Why do we feel so uncomfortable watching certain videos or posts? Why does someone else’s awkward self-expression trigger such strong reactions in us? Perhaps it’s because we see something of ourselves in those moments—the same desire for approval, the same vulnerability, the same awkward attempts at being seen.
In a way, watching cringey content allows us to distance ourselves from it. We can laugh at someone else’s misstep, relieved that we’re not the ones being judged. But does that critique, that distancing, truly serve us? Or does it reinforce the idea that social media is more about performance and judgment than genuine connection?
The Fear of Judgmental Cringe
One of the more troubling forms of cringe is the judgmental kind—the fear that we’ll be judged by others as overconfident, unaware, or trying too hard. It’s a fear that stops us from sharing parts of ourselves, like posting a dance video or expressing a creative idea, because we imagine others rolling their eyes, thinking, Who does this person think they are? It’s the cringe that comes not from self-reflection, but from anticipating the judgments of others.
But perhaps this kind of cringe says more about our relationship with validation than with authenticity. When we share something and the fear of being judged outweighs the joy of the act itself, we’re giving power to others’ perceptions. This, in turn, makes us more vulnerable to judgmental cringe because we’ve placed our sense of worth in how others respond. If we’re dancing because it feels good, because it’s an expression of who we are, then does it matter if someone thinks we’re trying too hard?
How to Avoid Judgmental Cringe
Avoiding judgmental cringe doesn’t mean never sharing or expressing yourself. Rather, it means shifting the focus inward—why are you doing this? Are you seeking approval, or are you expressing something authentic? The less you rely on external validation, the less room there is for judgmental cringe to take hold.
Maybe the question isn’t how to avoid cringe, but how to embrace the possibility of it. If we post something that feels genuine to us in the moment, knowing that in the future we might cringe at it, isn’t that still worthwhile? Judgmental cringe arises when we measure ourselves by how others might react, but the truth is, the reactions of others are beyond our control. What we can control is the sincerity of our own actions.
Yet, for those moments when we hesitate before posting, wondering if we’re stepping into cringeworthy territory, it might help to pause and reflect. A few questions to ask yourself before sharing might be:
- Why am I posting this?
Is this something I want to share because it brings me joy, or am I seeking validation from others? Am I trying to impress, or express? - How would I feel about this post in a year?
Does this moment or expression still feel important when I think about my future self reflecting on it? - Am I okay with being vulnerable here?
Is this a genuine moment of self-expression, and am I comfortable with the possibility that it might not resonate with everyone? - Does this align with who I am, or who I want to be?
Does this post reflect my authentic self, or is it an attempt to fit into an image or expectation? - If no one likes or engages with this, would I still feel good about it?
Am I posting for external approval, or does the act of sharing itself feel worthwhile?
These aren’t meant to be a checklist for approval, but more of a guide for mindfulness. The goal isn’t to perfect every post but to ensure that what we share comes from a place of authenticity rather than fear of judgment. In the end, the question isn’t so much about avoiding cringe, but about embracing what feels true in the moment, even if that means risking a little discomfort later.
Embracing the Cringe
Perhaps the real answer lies not in avoiding cringe but in accepting it as part of the journey. The younger version of me who posted those cringey social media updates wasn’t wrong for doing so—he was simply exploring the boundaries of self-expression. In the same way, our present selves, however imperfect, are worthy of being seen. And if we cringe later, so be it. That’s just another step in the journey of becoming.
After all, isn’t growth always accompanied by a little discomfort? The cringe-worthy moments are often the ones where we’ve stretched ourselves the most, and maybe that’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of.
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