Embracing the Cringe: Why Creating Is Worth the Risk

Why do I care what some strangers think???

I’ve been there, friends. Far too many times in fact. Staring at a piece of writing I’ve poured my heart into, hovering over the “Post” button, my stomach twisting. The thought runs rampant: What if people think this is weird? What if I’m awkward? What if this is…cringe?

Social media has given us a strange gift: the ability to share our creativity with a potentially massive audience. But alongside that gift comes the shadow of The Fear. The fear of being judged, of being misunderstood, or, quite possibly, being dismissed as “cringe.”

“Cringe” is potentially the ultimate insult in internet culture (at least as I see it as a creative). It implies that you’re trying too hard, caring too much, or daring to be earnest in a world that values ironic detachment. And when you create something as personal as a poem, a story, or a piece of art, putting it out there can feel like standing naked in a spotlight. There you are, lain bare. You want to be seen, but what if the crowd points and laughs?

I know this fear well because it’s held me back from sharing my own poetry. I love writing. It’s how I process life’s more difficult moments, capture fleeting emotions, and just overall express myself. But when it comes to posting a poem online, I freeze up. What if they think I’m pretentious? What if someone mocks me for using certain metaphors or for feeling something too deeply?

Here’s what I’ve realized, though: creating art isn’t about avoiding cringe. It is about embracing it.

Much of great art has, at some point, been considered cringe-worthy or at least wasn’t super appreciated in its time. Van Gogh’s bold, swirling strokes? Art of a talentless, crazy hack. The Beatles’ early love songs? Cheesy and dare I say, corny? Writing poetry and sharing it with the world takes guts because it’s vulnerable. It’s deeply personal. But that’s what makes it real.

If you spend your life avoiding the risk of being cringe, you also avoid the chance to connect with people. Because here’s the thing: for every person who might snicker at your poem or scroll past it, there’s another person out there who will feel seen. Your words and art could be exactly what they needed in that moment.

And, let’s be real, the alternative is even cringier. It’s cringy to hold back your creativity, to stifle your voice, to live in fear of what a bunch of strangers online might think. It’s cringy to not make something, to let fear make you boring and scared and silent.

So here’s my advice (to you and to me): Post the poem. Share the art. Write the awkward, heartfelt, overly-metaphorical thing and let it out into the world. Someone will cringe, sure. But someone else will care. And in the end, the world needs more people who dare to care.