Cringe

There’s a word I’m attempting to discourage at my place. It isn’t a swearword. It isn’t an insult, either. Not exactly. It is slightly ironic, however, that in attempting to explain to the constituents of my domestic jurisdiction exactly why this word is so antithetical to my worldview, I am met with a one word answer. The word against which I campaign, and which is used to dismiss my concerns, is cringe.

You probably thought the word cringe was a verb. But no. You and I are, I am told, very much out of touch. Language changes, we know this, and therefore cringe is now an adjective. ‘That’s so cringe’, one might say, before slumping off to carry on one’s important work being in grade three.

Public Service Announcement: the concept of “cringe” is unimaginative, emotionally stunting, and small. Ditch the cringe.

Let me give you an example of how broadly this term is being used, and yes I am aware I sound like an old person criticising young people’s creative adaptation of formal language structures. Quite right. I am. But tell me this. If you say, to your own child, whom you love, “I love you, kid”. Or if you listen to a child’s doubts and worries at the end of the school day and you reflect thoughtfully on the child’s trepidation and then you say, “Sounds like you need to back yourself. You can do hard things. You’ll get there”. At the conclusion of such undiluted declarations of support and adoration, tell me, is it somewhat disheartening to have your child look up at you and declare, ‘Oof. That’s kind of cringe, Mum’.

I’ll answer that one for you. It is. Not because you don’t think your child loves you but because you want your child to be emotionally adventurous and socially bold. You want your child to dare to do the wrong thing. You don’t want them to judge everything against an unstated and untested standard of potential embarrassment and social shame.

Public Service Announcement: jump in the pool with gay abandon and only ask questions later. I mean this literally. A few weeks into my first year at a new school, not one friend to my name, at the age of sixteen and standing in my bathers in front of the entire school at the swimming sports, I dived enthusiastically into the water and swam like nobody’s business. I could hear the crowd. The crowd was going wild! They loved me! I was basically Ian Thorpe! It was mid-breath when I realised some of them were pointing. Oh no. I was swimming the wrong stroke. Talk about cringe. Entire school. Bathers. Wrong stroke. I finished the race, then stood and raised my arms and was cheered with giggling enthusiasm by the right sort of people. My people. I found some of my life-long friends that day.

Public Service Announcement: make little impromptu speeches when you think someone needs to be lifted up. Some of the loveliest moments follow a gentle tap tap tap on the side of an office coffee mug. The room goes quiet. There’s shuffling. Cringe! Bring on the cringe. Maybe that person is embarrassed forever, but maybe, most probably, there is someone they’re already planning to tell about it later.

Public Service Announcement: if the moment ever appeals to you, walk out on stage or step into the radio studio or speak into the camera even when you’re nervous and your voice wobbles. Why? Because otherwise you didn’t. You might cringe when you watch it back later, but consider the cringe a sign that you were brave.

You can also not step out on stage. You can not push yourself. You can opt for a day off without second-guessing it. You can do cringey things like ‘self-care’. Despite what social media may have us believe, self-care doesn’t have to involve candles. It can be playing computer games and talking to the cat. It can be staring out the window for an hour by accident.

The ban in my house isn’t exactly what you’d call an unalloyed success. I realise though, that by being the sort of cringey parent who kisses their kids when they’re actually far too cool for that and who swam the wrong stroke in the swimming sports, maybe I’m leading by example. Embarrassment is a trick, but you’re a whole person. You’ll beat it. You can do hard things.