You know that meme, the one with a goat sitting in a field, staring wistfully into nothingness? Its face one of pure contentment alongside the phrase, “I am cringe, but I am free.” Well, that’s the vibe I’m trying to go for in life right now. I am cringe, but I am free is my new manifesto.

Objectively, I’m a cringe-fest. When someone asks what I do for a living, I often say ‘media’, because telling someone I’m a social media expert, writer and poet is a triple entente of Cringe with a capital C. I spend my days putting feelings into words or filming myself with a ring light in my basement flat while people walk by. I know all the terms trending on TikTok, and I can tell you what specific ’era’ is causing a stir in any given week. I know way too much about celebrities. I’m naturally clumsy. My fashion sense is ‘the more colourful, the better’. The music I like is mainstream. My existence is too perceived and it’s made me hyperaware of what people think of me. And for far too long, I cared. 

‘Cool’ has always been curated, and effortlessness is a myth we all help sustain. Society wants women to appear like they’ve rolled out of bed and thrown on an outfit, but for it to still be incredibly chic, for their hair to be perfectly styled in a french bob, for their nails to be manicured and their jewellery untarnished. Cringe is cool’s antithesis. A deep-in-your-bones shudder that happens, unprompted, when seeing someone is, god forbid, trying. Cringe is the meeting of awkwardness and trying too hard – it’s cringey to care, it’s cringey to be passionate, it’s cringey to be sincere.