The Power of Being Cringe

I wasn’t the most popular kid in high school. It felt like everything I enjoyed wasn’t big anymore, they were the kinds of things people grew past, things high schoolers weren’t “supposed” to enjoy. I was still extremely fascinated with things like dragons – especially How To Train Your Dragon, and I watched Minecraft lets plays. It didn’t help that I did other “cringy” things like cosplay during quarantine, posting far more than I probably should have on TikTok.

There was a period of time, in my late teens, where I tried to distance myself from these activities. I stopped cosplaying. I stopped talking about things like fanfiction in public. I kept everything the wider world deemed as immature strictly online – my Tumblr screentime was still extensive during this time don’t worry.

Being viewed as “normal” became more important to me than anything else. It wasn’t even the matter of being seen as cool, which is inherently cringe as well, especially when you’re approaching your twenties. I assumed cool was out of my league so I settled for the bare minimum: being average, typical, the everyman.

And I became miserable.

Being “normal” meant putting on a mask every time I stepped out of my house, sometimes even when I was in my home or dorm talking to my family and roommates. “Normal” should have made me happy, right? People should have liked me more since I was blending in with those around me, but nothing changed – at least on the outside.

I still faded into the background most places I went and still struggled with talking to others. If anything, I had less to talk about because I didn’t actually know much about what others considered the typical topics of conversation.

It wasn’t until my last year of college, twenty-years-old and wondering if I was really going to make my way through the year to come, that I decided to revert back to my old self.

That was easily one of the best, and hardest, decisions I’ve made in my entire life.

I was in a fraternity in college – which is also something I never thought would happen. When I joined eboard it meant I got a slide for the week during our weekly chapter meetings. Usually it was for updates on your week. So, I threw myself out there. I shared my art, no matter if it was related to something “cringe” or not. There was also a running bit where I shared one of my favorite comments of the week. Usually these came from my TikTok account or one of the fanfiction pieces I was writing at the time. My fraternity gave me a space to talk openly about the things that I previously restricted myself from bringing up.

The best part was that I was able to truly connect with others because of this. In those last few semesters of college I grew immensely close to my fellow fraternity members. At first, we were able to bond over some of those “cringy” things. I was even able to get a few to join Tumblr, to read the All For The Game series, and in turn they introduced me to things as well. We spent time watching everything from The Pitt to YouTube video essays to The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City together.

I spoke freely about the things I got up to online, in the past and the present. I even shared the recording of my middle school production of the musical Newsies since I knew one of my friends had developed a love of it.

We were able to develop a strong comradery with one another, sharing things that we typically wouldn’t. Never before had I been so free.

I even started sharing some of these facts about myself in class.

I was a creative writing minor, so I took plenty of writing classes. One of my favorites was one where we learned how to make money as a writer and the process of getting a novel published. On the last day of class we were asked if we still had any fears about being a writer. Hesitantly, in a room of people I still didn’t know all that well, I shared that I worried people wouldn’t care about my original writing as much as they did my fan writing.

Instead of brushing the comment off or diverting the conversation like I assume plenty of other professors would, my instructor took me completely seriously. He asked me about my fanfic writing, told me that this was a valid fear, and then went on with the other comments as if nothing strange had been said at all. Granted, this was the same professor that had me explain what AO3 was since he saw recognition flash in my eyes when he brought it up, but it was still a moment of peace in an otherwise stressful environment.

The past few years have only affirmed my belief that to be cringe is to be free. I repeated this statement for what feels like a decade at this point after seeing it online somewhere, but it wasn’t until very recently that I embodied it.

We spend much of our lives worrying how others will view us, if we’ll fit in, if we’ll make a good impression, that we lose ourselves along the way. That’s why I ask you to live as your unapologetic self. You don’t need to start big. I’m not asking you to scream your “cringe” hobbies into a crowd, just start small. With your close friends or family bring up something you usually wouldn’t.

I guarantee you'll feel lighter than you ever have before.