.09 "i am cringe, but i am free."

there’s been a lot circulating about gen-z and anti-cringe culture — they did, after all, invent “cheugy” to poke fun at millennial cringe. and they seem to be extremely concerned about not making the same mistakes of generations past, no matter how small they may be. but the truth is, this started way before them, and will continue so long as we continue caring about how others perceive our lives, rather than how we experience them.

it’s not a new thing, the pressure to perform, the society gossip. it’s just that now we live in a time where we’re under constant surveillance. it feels like we have no private spaces anymore where we can be our own freaky selves — or even explore what that looks like. we can’t be silly without worrying we’ll go viral for it, become a worldwide laughingstock.

we have no space to embrace cringe. to revel in it.

add to that: in difficult times — like when the world is on fire and people are being killed just for existing — we seek comfort. we want to be able to feel in control of something, even if it’s just what we buy. we are all 50s housewives, looking for that mad men-style advertisement of bottled perfection. that one thing we can buy that will make our lives shiny and seamless.

and so punk dies. zines die. the whole idea of DIY as a creative outlet dies. instead of scouring our neighborhoods for trinkets that define our current place and time, that represent our lives as they actually are, we go to target, home goods, world market and buy things that make it seem we’re living different lives. ones that involve extensive travel, luxury shopping trips, yachts off the italian coast. we buy a dupe of a dupe of a dupe until our entire lives become dupes. 

we are facsimiles of what we want to be, rather than true versions of ourselves.

we want perfectly curated lives. we want to proclaim on the internet that WE HAVE LIVED, without actually taking the risk to do so. the risk of being messy, of inviting others into our messiness, of asking them to be messy with us. the risk of figuring things out together, instead of paying someone else to give us the answers.

we mistake representation for reality — performing activism instead of doing it, showing intimacy instead of building it. we’re more comfortable crying on instagram — or posting something that shows we’re actually so vulnerable and so authentic — than crying in front of our friends.

but we don’t need permission to be messy, unfinished, uncurated. what would it look like to prioritize process over output? to enjoy the art of being rather than doing? 

what if we reclaimed our time as ours, rather than everyone else’s? what if we practiced building our connections on presence instead of performance, flawed and unfiltered?

it’s not that there isn’t room for aesthetics — there is joy in beauty. it’s about finding that beauty in the raw mess of living. it’s appreciating that, if you scoop up a bouquet from a meadow, it’s not going to be a bunch of roses. it’ll be a variety of wild flowers and wild grasses. some weeds. probably even some bugs.

it won’t be perfect, but it will be beautiful. all those wild things, just fighting to exist.

just like you, just like me.

stay soft, stay sexy/camp/silly/outrageous/ambitious.

<3,

n.

p.s.

• ocean vuong on how cringe culture holds young people back

• making mistakes can be fun! and silly! especially when you’re an 18-year-old who’s allowed to get tattoos! (ask me how i know)

• aesthetics have killed the house party

• speaking of buying experience, did you know you can pretend to have nipple piercings now?

• nothing is more cringe — or punk — than asking for what you need and offering pieces of yourself to others!! bring back the barter system!!