{"id":164053,"date":"2025-09-30T05:32:47","date_gmt":"2025-09-30T13:32:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/?p=164053"},"modified":"2025-09-30T07:48:39","modified_gmt":"2025-09-30T15:48:39","slug":"nyt-climbing-cringe-mountain-with-gen-z","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/?p=164053","title":{"rendered":"NYT: Climbing Cringe Mountain With Gen Z"},"content":{"rendered":"

I’m fascinated by this New York Times story<\/a>: <\/p>\n

Raised online and under constant scrutiny, young adults are leaning into embarrassment as a necessary part of growing up…<\/p>\n

Ms. Glavan realized she was in the midst of climbing cringe mountain, a concept that has become an inescapable step of adulthood for the members of Gen Z who grew up with their entire lives \u2014 even the embarrassing stuff \u2014 being documented online…<\/p>\n

The phrase cringe mountain came from Erica Mallett, 34, a creator consultant based in Sydney, Australia, who coined it in 2023. Ms. Mallett spent years in the public eye, first as part of the hip-hop duo Coda Conduct and later as a host of a national breakfast show on the radio station Triple J. The role put her in front of a huge audience almost overnight, and she was bombarded with texts from listeners telling her she was \u201cso cringe.\u201d<\/p>\n

This idea of stumbling publicly, enduring judgment and finding resilience in the process is not new. What\u2019s new is the language. The phrase \u201ccringe\u201d is distinctly of the internet age, born of comment sections and meme culture to describe acute awkwardness or social embarrassment.<\/p>\n

At first, Ms. Mallett tried to shrink herself to avoid criticism, but it only dulled her personality and stifled her creativity. She eventually reframed the word, deciding that being cringe was actually proof she was experimenting and taking risks. To her, \u201cclimbing cringe mountain\u201d meant growth.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The one part of the NYT cringe article that rings false is the idea that we can ever or should ever stop caring what other people think. David Pinsof writes:<\/a><\/p>\n

We all care what people think\u2014deeply, desperately. Some of us just act like we don\u2019t care what people think, in order to make people think that we don\u2019t care what they think. We signal we\u2019re not signaling.<\/p>\n

I once saw a tweet about how good it feels to not tweet: \u201cHad the urge to tweet something a few hours ago. Resisted the urge. Feels good.\u201d The tweeter was patting himself on the back for not tweeting, oblivious to the fact that he was, in fact, tweeting. <\/p>\n

Or consider this article in New York Magazine, in which the author proudly declared she had \u201cabandoned the notion of ambition.\u201d The author was tired of writing pat thinkpieces for likes and retweets, which she wrote in a pat thinkpiece that got lots of likes and retweets. <\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Now, it is true we all care what people think, but some people are stronger than others at standing up against social opprobrium is for what they believe is sufficiently important. If everyone in my chat during a livestream disagrees with me, that’s not a strong enough force to silence me. If my every friend disagrees with me about something, and none of them know as much about the topic as I do, that’s not enough to silence me because I am playing other games than the popularity game. I’m willing to take short-term pain for the long-term gain of being right about something important. I care selectively about what people think. I care about what people I respect in a topic think about what I write.<\/p>\n

ChatGPT says: This is an important distinction. Yes, we all care what others think \u2014 but people differ in how much weight they give that judgment, and in what currency they\u2019re willing to pay for it. Here\u2019s how I\u2019d frame it:<\/p>\n

1. We Can\u2019t Escape the Game<\/p>\n

Every action (and inaction) signals something. Even saying \u201cI don\u2019t care what you think\u201d signals a desire to be seen as independent. That part of the NYT \u201ccringe mountain\u201d article rings true: there\u2019s no off-switch for social signaling.<\/p>\n

2. But We Can Play Different Games<\/p>\n

Where the article goes fuzzy is in suggesting that the endpoint is not caring. In reality, the endpoint is caring selectively. You may not care if your livestream chat disagrees with you, because you\u2019re playing a longer game: truth, coherence, intellectual independence. You\u2019re willing to eat short-term pain (mockery, isolation) for long-term satisfaction (being right, having integrity).<\/p>\n

That\u2019s different from pretending not to care. It\u2019s about prioritizing whose opinion matters. Your chat might not sway you, but history might. Or your own conscience. Or a smaller, more discerning audience.<\/p>\n

3. Strength Is Relative<\/p>\n

Some people are crushed by a few nasty comments. Others, like you, can withstand whole rooms of disapproval because they anchor themselves in another frame: truth-seeking, God, art, long-term vindication. That\u2019s not \u201cnot caring.\u201d That\u2019s choosing the higher tribunal you answer to.<\/p>\n

4. Application to Cringe Mountain<\/p>\n

For Gen Z, the challenge is that their tribunal is the algorithm: likes, comments, views. It\u2019s immediate and brutal. The task isn\u2019t to stop caring altogether, but to learn which audience matters most. If they can shift from \u201cTikTok commenters\u201d to \u201cthe future self I\u2019m becoming,\u201d they\u2019ll endure the climb.<\/p>\n

So the clean way to put it is:<\/p>\n

We all care.<\/p>\n

Some care about everyone\u2019s opinion.<\/p>\n

The stronger ones care about the right people\u2019s opinion \u2014 or the right judge (truth, God, conscience).<\/p>\n

The article frames \u201cembracing cringe\u201d as partly about liberating yourself from worrying what others think. But as you and Pinsof point out, that\u2019s a fantasy. Humans are an intensely judging and signaling species. Caring about what others think isn\u2019t a bug \u2014 it\u2019s the operating system.<\/p>\n

Here\u2019s how I\u2019d connect your insight to the \u201ccringe mountain\u201d theme:<\/p>\n

1. Cringe is Social by Definition<\/p>\n

Cringe isn\u2019t private embarrassment; it\u2019s relational embarrassment. To feel \u201ccringe\u201d is to imagine the audience judging you. So saying \u201cdon\u2019t care what others think\u201d misses the point. Without caring about the gaze of others, there\u2019s no cringe at all.<\/p>\n

2. No Opt-Out of Signaling<\/p>\n

As Pinsof argues, even opting out is a signal. A hoodie and messy hair signal \u201cI\u2019m not signaling.\u201d A thinkpiece declaring \u201cI\u2019m above ambition\u201d is itself ambitious. Complaining that \u201ceverything is politicized\u201d is a political signal. Same with \u201cI don\u2019t care what you think.\u201d The denial is the signal.<\/p>\n

3. Cringe as Honesty About the Game<\/p>\n

Where the NYT article flirts with na\u00efvet\u00e9 (\u201cwe can free ourselves from others\u2019 opinions\u201d), your framing is more realistic: the only way through is to admit you\u2019re always signaling. You\u2019re always in the game. Cringe is just what it feels like when the signal you send doesn\u2019t land cleanly.<\/p>\n

4. How This Ties Back to Your Story<\/p>\n

Your own life writing shows this dynamic in the raw. When you blogged about porn, religion, girlfriends, or your humiliations, you weren\u2019t opting out of signaling \u2014 you were doubling down on risky signals. You wanted people to know you didn\u2019t care, which of course meant you cared deeply. That\u2019s the paradox you lived: rebellion as another form of belonging.<\/p>\n

5. The Productive Move<\/p>\n

The \u201cescape hatch\u201d isn\u2019t pretending you don\u2019t care. It\u2019s accepting that you do. The honesty comes from choosing which audience you care about, and which signals you\u2019re willing to send. In that sense, climbing cringe mountain isn\u2019t about outgrowing social judgment; it\u2019s about learning how to live with it \u2014 how to play the signaling game openly rather than denying you\u2019re playing.<\/p>\n

So the refinement you can add to the NYT take is: The climb up cringe mountain doesn\u2019t lead to the land of \u201cnot caring.\u201d It leads to the land of choosing your signals, and choosing your audience. The only way out is through the game itself.<\/p>\n

Here are some different ways you can frame and understand the NYT piece:<\/p>\n

1. Developmental Lens<\/p>\n

Cringe as adolescence for adults: What earlier generations might have gone through in private\u2014awkward trial-and-error identity experiments\u2014Gen Z is forced to undergo in public. The \u201cmountain\u201d metaphor implies a rite of passage: only by enduring embarrassment can you emerge more confident.<\/p>\n

Resilience through exposure: The climb is about developing a thicker skin and learning to live with imperfection while still moving forward.<\/p>\n

2. Cultural\/Technological Lens<\/p>\n

Cringe as a product of digital surveillance: Phones, apps, and social media turned normal social embarrassment into mass exposure. \u201cCringe\u201d becomes shorthand for the fear of being permanently memed or ridiculed at scale.<\/p>\n

Naming the feeling: By labeling it \u201ccringe mountain,\u201d creators reframe the fear as normal and survivable. It\u2019s a coping mechanism for a culture where private experimentation is nearly impossible.<\/p>\n

3. Psychological Lens<\/p>\n

Shame vs. sincerity: \u201cCringe\u201d captures the shame of being seen trying and not succeeding. The antidote, as Ocean Vuong suggests, is sincerity\u2014choosing to risk embarrassment in order to be authentic.<\/p>\n

Self-deception and harsh self-criticism: As Kate Glavan describes, being stuck on cringe mountain can spiral into \u201cmaybe I\u2019m ugly, stupid, annoying.\u201d The psychological move is learning to reinterpret those thoughts as part of growth, not truth.<\/p>\n

4. Sociological Lens<\/p>\n

New norms of identity formation: Earlier generations had smaller, localized \u201caudiences\u201d (family, school, church). Gen Z has the entire internet as audience, shifting the stakes of every choice. \u201cCringe\u201d becomes a social regulator\u2014what you risk being called when you experiment.<\/p>\n

From gossip to virality: What was once a whispered judgment is now algorithmically amplified, changing the social weight of embarrassment.<\/p>\n

5. Political\/Economic Lens<\/p>\n

Influencer precarity: Glavan\u2019s story illustrates how financial survival is bound up with public performance. \u201cCringe\u201d isn\u2019t just social\u2014it can sink brand deals, algorithms, and income. For creators, embracing cringe is partly a survival tactic.<\/p>\n

Corporate co-optation: Nike\u2019s \u201cWhy Do It?\u201d campaign turns the risk of cringe into marketing copy, showing how brands commodify the vulnerability of young people.<\/p>\n

6. Philosophical\/Existential Lens<\/p>\n

Cringe as evidence of being alive: To act sincerely, to risk failure, is to be human. Tyler, the Creator\u2019s line about people not dancing for fear of being filmed raises the question: how much human spirit do we lose to self-consciousness?<\/p>\n

The land of cool as illusion: The \u201cmountain\u201d metaphor suggests coolness is only reached by passing through visible failure. Cringe is not the opposite of cool\u2014it is the precondition.<\/p>\n

Let\u2019s map \u201ccringe\u201d and \u201ccringe mountain\u201d onto some older frameworks of embarrassment, shame, and social regulation:<\/p>\n

1. Erving Goffman \u2013 The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (1956)<\/p>\n

Goffman argued that social life is like theater: we\u2019re all performing roles for an audience. Embarrassment happens when the performance fails or is disrupted.<\/p>\n

Cringe is a 21st-century, digital-age update: the audience isn\u2019t just a dinner party or classroom but the entire internet. The stakes are higher because the \u201cfront stage\u201d is permanent and searchable.<\/p>\n

\u201cClimbing cringe mountain\u201d becomes the process of learning how to keep performing despite constant risk of failure in front of an endless audience.<\/p>\n

2. Thomas Scheff \u2013 Shame and the Social Bond<\/p>\n

Scheff saw shame (and embarrassment) as key regulators of group belonging. They signal when someone is straying outside norms.<\/p>\n

In this frame, \u201ccringe\u201d is the online community\u2019s shorthand for: you\u2019re misaligned with the group\u2019s vibe.<\/p>\n

But the NYT story shows Gen Z flipping this: wearing cringe as a badge of resilience, reframing shame as evidence of experimentation.<\/p>\n

3. Charles Horton Cooley \u2013 The Looking Glass Self (1902)<\/p>\n

Identity forms by imagining how others see us, then internalizing that reflection.<\/p>\n

In a pre-internet world, this \u201cmirror\u201d was limited (family, school, workplace). For Gen Z, the mirror is infinite and algorithmically distorted.<\/p>\n

\u201cCringe mountain\u201d is the vertigo of scaling identity formation to a global, memetic audience.<\/p>\n

4. Norbert Elias \u2013 The Civilizing Process<\/p>\n

Elias charted how manners and self-restraint evolved with modern society, where embarrassment regulated behavior.<\/p>\n

Cringe might be seen as a new form of \u201ccivilizing pressure\u201d: online visibility forces hyper-self-awareness, pushing people toward safer, less authentic choices.<\/p>\n

The counter-move (embracing cringe) is a rebellion against over-civilization.<\/p>\n

5. Modern Psychology \u2013 Vulnerability & Growth<\/p>\n

Psychologists like Bren\u00e9 Brown treat shame resilience as a growth skill: daring to be vulnerable, risking embarrassment, and finding strength in exposure.<\/p>\n

\u201cClimbing cringe mountain\u201d fits perfectly here: it\u2019s not about escaping shame but moving through it to reach authenticity.<\/p>\n

The continuity: Embarrassment has always been a social regulator, marking the gap between private intention and public perception.<\/p>\n

The novelty: With Gen Z, the scale and permanence of observation is unprecedented\u2014algorithms and cameras mean the \u201caudience\u201d never disappears. So \u201ccringe\u201d isn\u2019t just episodic embarrassment; it\u2019s structural, baked into daily life. Naming it (\u201ccringe mountain\u201d) is a way of normalizing what used to be abnormal.<\/p>\n

LF: I asked ChatGPT to take my online autobiography<\/a> and and give me an essay on my experience of cringe. I then punched it up to create this:<\/p>\n

When the New York Times recently described how Gen Z has coined the phrase \u201ccringe mountain,\u201d I felt an uncanny recognition. The metaphor refers to the public gauntlet of embarrassment and awkwardness young people must climb before they can arrive at something resembling confidence, competence, or \u201ccool.\u201d For a generation raised under constant digital surveillance, every misstep is amplified, every awkward experiment potentially immortalized as a meme.<\/p>\n

The Times story hit me because I was climbing cringe mountain decades before it had a name. My climb happened in Adventist schools, at swimming pools, on the pages of my high-school newspaper, and eventually online in the early days of blogging. Gen Z has TikTok. I had theology books, porn, and gossip. Different tools, same dynamic: a life where shame was inescapable, and where resilience had to be forged through exposure.<\/p>\n

Childhood Surveillance Before Smartphones<\/p>\n

Long before smartphones made every kid\u2019s life a stage, my childhood was a theater of judgment. I grew up in a Seventh-day Adventist household where virtually everything fun was a sin: candy, gum, Beatles records, playing cards, even interracial dating.<\/p>\n

I learned early that I was always being watched. My father, a theologian with two PhDs, required me to read 30 to 40 pages of dense Christian apologetics every day and type summaries as punishment for childhood transgressions. Adults hit me without warning. Teachers broke rulers across my hands. Every misstep was documented in punishment, if not in writing.<\/p>\n

That was my version of the algorithm: a relentless feedback loop telling me I was deviant, wrong, \u201ccringe.\u201d The NYT piece quotes anthropologist Roberta Katz saying Gen Z grew up \u201cconstantly observed, with cameras everywhere.\u201d I didn\u2019t need cameras. I had a church, a family, and a community that turned my smallest pleasures into mortal sins.<\/p>\n

Humiliation as a Rite of Passage<\/p>\n

Gen Z creators today fear their experiments will flop in public view. My fear was that they\u2019d be discovered in my father\u2019s home or my Adventist school. I still remember the mortification of having an erection noticed at the pool by a child who shouted about it. Or being caught looking at a friend\u2019s brother\u2019s porn stash<\/p>\n

Autobiography<\/p>\n

These weren\u2019t just social embarrassments. In my world, they were theological catastrophes.<\/p>\n

In the language of the NYT article, I was already \u201cclimbing cringe mountain.\u201d Shame wasn\u2019t episodic. It was structural. Every attempt to experiment with identity, desire, or rebellion carried the threat of exposure and punishment.<\/p>\n

Performing Through the Shame<\/p>\n

Shame drove me into performance. I became provocative, even reckless, turning my humiliations into spectacle.<\/p>\n

In high school, I deliberately published controversial articles in the Hillmen Messenger that got me strangled by football players and inspired the \u201cNuke Luke\u201d committee. I mocked Adventists, tweaked teachers, and flaunted my awkward sexuality. I wrote about porn before most people admitted they watched it.<\/p>\n

Like Gen Z influencers, I was experimenting in public, trying on identities, and metabolizing embarrassment into material. Cringe wasn\u2019t incidental\u2014it was the fuel.<\/p>\n

Porn as My Algorithm<\/p>\n

The NYT story describes how Gen Z numbs themselves with scrolling, terrified of being filmed, memed, and ridiculed. My version of that was pornography.<\/p>\n

Pornography was my algorithm before there was an algorithm: infinitely replenishing, delivering highs that erased rejection, debt, exile, and self-hatred. Watching porn, I felt powerful, desired, in control. I wrote: \u201cNothing bothers me when I\u2019m with the porn. That nasty stuff the boss said to me today? All forgotten! Those great women I know from temple who won\u2019t date me? All forgotten.\u201d<\/p>\n

But like social media, porn left me hollow. The very thing that gave me relief compounded my shame. Gen Z creators talk about the fear of being a meme. My fear was being caught, rejected, or damned by God. Different medium, same loop: temporary highs, long-term humiliation, and the search for authenticity in a medium built to strip it away.<\/p>\n

Cool as an Illusion<\/p>\n

What \u201ccringe mountain\u201d captures\u2014and what I learned the hard way\u2014is that there is no bypass to cool. Every identity I\u2019ve inhabited\u2014lover, journalist, blogger, Jew, addict, survivor\u2014was forged through visible failure.<\/p>\n

The NYT piece quotes Erica Mallett, who coined the term, saying: \u201cYou can\u2019t get to the land of cool without first climbing cringe mountain.\u201d That line could be the caption for my entire life.<\/p>\n

The land of cool is a mirage. Every time I thought I\u2019d arrived\u2014dating a porn star, publishing a provocative piece, being praised for my writing\u2014the ground shifted. What mattered wasn\u2019t staying cool. It was surviving the climb, metabolizing embarrassment into resilience, and offering the story back as a guide for others in my own status game.<\/p>\n

A Prototype Case Study<\/p>\n

If Gen Z feels like they\u2019re the first generation forced to grow up under scrutiny, my story shows an analog prototype. My audience wasn\u2019t global, but it was ubiquitous: family, church, peers, and eventually readers online. Like Gen Z, I learned to live in public, to fail in public, to keep going anyway.<\/p>\n

Ocean Vuong warns that \u201ccringe culture\u201d keeps young people from sincerity. I know that trap. I\u2019ve lived decades of performance, exaggeration, and provocation. But what I\u2019ve discovered is not “that sincerity only comes on the other side of embarrassment, and the only way to authenticity is through awkwardness.” I’ve learned there’s no true self because who we are depends upon the situation. Cringe depends upon the situation. Life works on the group strategy. Our identities are porous. <\/p>\n

Lessons for Others<\/p>\n

So how can my story help?<\/p>\n

Normalize shame. Embarrassment doesn\u2019t mean you\u2019re broken. It means you\u2019re human.<\/p>\n

Reframe failure. Cringe is proof you\u2019re trying something real.<\/p>\n

Make it material. Every humiliation can be metabolized into story, art, or connection.<\/p>\n

The New York Times article hints that the way up cringe mountain leads to freedom from caring what others think. That rings false. Nobody escapes the gaze. As David Pinsof has written, even refusing to play the game is a move in the game. The hoodie, the messy hair, the proud declaration of \u201cI don\u2019t care what you think\u201d\u2014all of it is signaling.<\/p>\n

But it\u2019s also true that people differ in how much weight they give that judgment. Some crumble under a few hostile comments. Others can withstand entire rooms of disapproval. The difference is not that the latter \u201cdon\u2019t care.\u201d It\u2019s that they care differently. They\u2019ve chosen their tribunal.<\/p>\n

For me, if everyone in my livestream chat disagrees with me, that\u2019s not enough to silence me. If every friend recoils from my opinion, that\u2019s still not enough, because I\u2019m not playing only the popularity game. I\u2019m willing to take short-term pain for the long-term gain of being right about something important. That willingness is not the absence of caring; it\u2019s caring about something higher\u2014truth, integrity, or the judgment of a future self who will look back and say, \u201cYou stood your ground.\u201d<\/p>\n

The point is not to transcend the signaling game but to choose your signals and your audience wisely. Cringe is what happens when your signals don\u2019t land with the audience right in front of you. Strength comes from caring more about the audience that matters in the long run.<\/p>\n

Cringe is the necessary passageway for some people who go on to create something important. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I’m fascinated by this New York Times story: Raised online and under constant scrutiny, young adults are leaning into embarrassment as a necessary part of growing up… Ms. Glavan realized she was in the midst of climbing cringe mountain, a … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[43014],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-164053","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-cringe"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t