How to Get Over Your Fear of Being Cringe
Is anything cringe by nature?
“While the Dogmatists egoistically claim that in deciding the facts preference ought to be given to themselves above all other human beings, we realize that this claim of theirs is inappropriate since they themselves are part of the dispute.”
— Sextus Empiricus
It seems most, if not all of us have had moments where we look back on ourselves and cringe.
Perhaps it was a joke that didn’t land, or a dicey outfit that didn’t align with current tastes. Whatever it may be, actions depicted as cringe seem to involve our awkwardly executed attempts to express ourselves. Often, these behaviors are perceived as humiliating, resulting in the impression of secondhand embarrassment for spectators—hence the word “cringe.”
Even more intimidating for some is the notion of “icks”—behaviors that might be perceived as turn-offs to sexual or romantic interests. It seems many of us are terrified of giving those we wish to impress “the ick”—a particularly ego-crushing kind of cringe.
Though behaviors perceived as cringe are largely ridiculed, it appears they aren’t typically treated as taboo—at least not in a moral sense. Other than the discomfort they may appear to cause, cringe behaviors are evidently harmless. No one is going to arrest you for being cringe, nor will anyone think of you as a bad person. But you might get mocked, bullied, or even ostracized. Despite the trouble that comes with it, occasionally coming across to others as cringe seems like a risk none of us can avoid. Indeed, Pyrrho reminds us how it’s “difficult entirely to strip away human nature.” We’re only human after all. We can’t avoid expressing ourselves in ways people might consider unpleasant or awkward. So how might a Pyrrhonist address this fear? In this case, it seems we can benefit from the 10 Modes of Aenesidemus—a set of ten methods in the Pyrrhonist toolkit for examining dogmatic beliefs. The second, fourth, eighth, ninth, and tenth modes will be most appropriate for our discussion.
Sextus Empiricus said, “when the same things are chosen by some people and avoided by others it is logical for us to infer that these people are not affected alike by the same things.” Here, he is outlining the second mode: the observation that we possess physical and mental differences that result in things appearing differently to each of us.
For instance, a joke may seem funny to you, but someone else might find it unfunny. An outfit might appear in good taste to you, but to another it might be seen as unflattering. Likewise, what comes across as an ick to you might seem enchanting to another. The point is that appearances appear differently to different people. So how can we decide which of us, if any, are perceiving the “correct” ones? It seems no such prophet has been chosen. Though there are many who possess the pomposity to declare this for themselves, we find (to our amusement) that the bamboozlers cannot agree among each other either.
Despite this, one might still object that there must be some varieties of self-expression that are preferable to others due to their alignment with what might be considered popular. But Sextus reminds us that this would be a childish proposal: “for no one is able to approach the whole human race and by talking to them find out what pleases the majority.” If we’re unable to grasp the majority view, then how can any of us know what’s truly favorable to the public?
Another useful mode from Aenesidemus is the fourth: that appearances depend on our physical and mental conditions at the time of perception. Suitable to our discussion is the condition of liking and disliking. The idea is that we each experience different preferences and aversions that we’re unable to reconcile with the preferences and aversions of others.
Perhaps you like Star Wars. Even if nothing is better than Star Wars in your mind, there are still plenty of others who could never get into it. Or maybe you enjoy watching anime; once again, you’ll find a considerable number of people who don’t get the appeal. You might also enjoy a niche hobby that others don’t enjoy. It would then follow that there are also hobbies others enjoy which you might find boring.
The same goes for physical and romantic attraction. Unless you’re asexual and aromantic, there will be qualities you’ll find attractive in a partner (or potential partner) that others will find repulsive. There will also be people who find you attractive and others who find you unattractive (that’s just how it is). How then are we able to determine what’s preferable and what’s not preferable? Can we say that anything is truly worth liking or disliking? Sextus reminds us that we are without a criterion to give preference to one appearance over another; thus, we are unable to decide whether anything is by nature likable or unlikable.
The next relevant mode is the eighth. In his outline of this mode, Sextus wrote that what is judged “appears in relation to what does the judging.” In other words, judgments are relative. Thus, what’s judged as cringeworthy is also relative. How then can we consider anything to be objectively cringe if what makes a person cringe rests completely on whoever does the cringing? The same goes for icks. Despite the common misconception that people “give” their romantic interests the ick, it’s really the perceiver that the perception rests on—not the perceived.
Another mode pertinent to our examination of cringe culture is the ninth: the mode of frequency of occurrence. Sextus tells us, “things that are rare seem precious, but things that are familiar and easy to get do not.” We see this when people jump on the bandwagon of “the next big thing.” That thing (whatever it may be) usually blows up because it appears novel and therefore more valuable to people. Conversely, we find trends that become excessively widespread are eventually perceived as “cliché” and “worn-out.” A personal example that comes to mind takes me back to my freshman year of high school, when I was meticulously private about my music tastes. Having been picked on for dressing in clothes perceived as “too emo” in middle school, I entered high school anxiously avoiding clothes I presumed might look too dark or too edgy. I remember my self-consciousness was so pervasive that it drove me to check my earbuds habitually during my bus rides home. I did this so no one could overhear that I was listening to My Chemical Romance—a cornerstone of the emo genre. Amusingly, it wasn’t until my college years that my peers seemed to once again appreciate the music and aesthetic of emo culture. One event I look back on in particular is “emo night”—a party that many of us anticipated with excitement. I was amazed to hear songs I had once been embarrassed to listen to—songs like “Teenagers” and “Welcome to the Black Parade”—now being sung in nostalgic harmony by a choir of highly extroverted college kids. What had become worn-out was now rare again, and what was once cringe had now become cool. But this was due to frequency of occurrence, not some inherent nature to the genre.
The final mode in Aenesidemus’ toolkit is the tenth: the mode concerning differences in ways of life, customs, laws, mythical beliefs, and dogmatic assumptions. For our purposes, we’ll only need to focus on the differences between social customs. Though Pyrrhonists follow social customs so far as they’re useful, they can also oppose custom to custom. For instance, Sextus notes how Persians found brightly covered garments that reach the feet to be flattering, while Roman citizens found them unflattering. Similarly, we can see how one subculture might find a particular form of self-expression praiseworthy, while a different subculture might find that same variety of expression cringeworthy. Another takeaway from this mode is that we can surround ourselves with people we can be freely expressive around. After all, Pyrrhonists follow what appears, and if it’s evident that being around judgmental people leads to more disturbances, Pyrrhonists can choose to gravitate toward those who are more accepting. But regardless of your cultural milieu, it seems any perception of something as cringe is altogether dogmatic.
Returning to the quote I opened with, it’s intriguing how Sextus considered those who decide their opinions should be given preference to be “egoistic.” It does seem that a particular kind of vanity is required to assume one has privileged insight into what’s truly cringeworthy. But following these modes, it’s helpful to remind ourselves that we have no reason to judge the dogmatists for their arrogance either. I find it far more helpful to recognize cringe culture for what it more clearly seems to be: a disease of the dogmatic mind. So rather than shaming or punishing those who are infected, it is through our love of humanity that we can seek to cure others of this disease.
Taking all of this into account, you’ll find that cringe culture is a heaping pile of dogma. You have no reason to accept it, and it’s through Pyrrhonist practice that you can find liberation from it. So the next time you notice yourself worrying about whether people will see you as cringe, remind yourself that nothing is cringe by nature, and enjoy the freedom that follows.
