You ever see someone dancing in a parking lot?
Not like, having a moment dancing. I mean someone setting up a phone on the hood of a car, hitting record, and launching into a TikTok routine in broad daylight. It's awkward. It's kind of absurd. It's also, weirdly… beautiful?
I like it.
I like seeing people create stuff in public. I like people saying, "Screw it, this is what I'm doing today." I like watching someone chase fun, even if it's a trend that'll be dead in two weeks. As long as you're not blocking traffic or making life harder for someone else, you should absolutely be free to look a little ridiculous.
Because the alternative—the thing I've been noticing more and more—is what the internet calls cringe culture. And it's not new. It's just shame dressed up in oversized tops, high-waisted jeans and ironic detachment.
Cringe Culture = Shame Culture with Internet Access
Here's the vibe: we've built this cultural reflex where being earnest is embarrassing, where caring too much is a red flag, and where trying is suspect unless it's cool, polished, or pre-approved by the algorithm.
You see it in comment sections, in eye-roll emojis, in group chats that dissect someone else's content creation like it's a crime scene.
But here's the kicker: the people most obsessed with calling something cringe are often the ones most terrified of being seen. Of being visible. Of risking anything. They care—maybe too much. And instead of dealing with that fear of judgment, they project it onto anyone who dares to try.
They become the self-appointed cringe police.
The Publix Parable (
Now, let me make this personal.
I wrote a piece the other day about a trip to Publix. It followed that familiar formula—normal moment, light twist, tie it back to business. Classic "What grocery shopping with my toddler taught me about relationship capital" kind of energy.
And yeah, I knew it was a little corny. It felt like one of those articles where you turn a trip to the DMV into a leadership lesson. The kind of thing that makes some people groan, "Ugh, this is so performative."
And they're not wrong. It is performative. I only wrote it because I'm trying to keep writing, to keep momentum going on my Substack. And because most of my life? It's normal. Errands. Diapers. Regular old moments.
Normal Is Not the Enemy
If I wait around for genius or edge or some perfectly packaged story, I'll never publish anything. And I know I'm not alone in this creative paralysis.
So yeah, I wrote a Publix piece. It wasn't profound. But it was true. And I'd rather create something small and honest than say nothing because I'm afraid someone might think it's cringe.
Because not creating—not trying—because someone might judge you? That's a prison made of secondhand shame.
Performative Isn't a Dirty Word
All content is performative. Hitting "post" is a performance. Dancing in a parking lot is a performance. Writing this article is a performance.
But performance doesn't equal fake.
Sometimes performance is how we discover what we believe. It's how we sharpen our voice. It's how we shake off the fear and keep going. I'd rather perform awkwardly than sit perfectly silent, paralyzed by what others might think.
Let People Dance
So yeah—I like the parking lot dancers. I like the basic TikTok trends. I like seeing people try, even when it's weird or earnest or imperfect.
Because here's the truth: the only thing more cringe than trying is being too scared to try at all.
Let people dance. Let people create. Let yourself look a little ridiculous.
You're alive. That's reason enough.
What are you not creating because you're afraid it might be cringe? Hit reply and tell me about it.
