The Origins of Embarrassment and Why It Matters
You should respect the cringe and what it does for you.
When I was 19, I was talking to a beautiful blonde surfer girl, Mandy. We lived in my hometown of Virginia Beach and were planning to meet up at a local house party.
I was still your typical insecure teenager who overcompensated and tried to be cool. I was worried about what to wear and had checked my hair three times in the mirror before leaving. An hour later, I was immersed in a loud party. We were standing on the second floor, talking in a hallway full of people. The house was packed. Mandy still hadn’t arrived. I turned to my friend and said, “I’m going downstairs to refill my beer.”
And just as I got to the stairwell, it was like a ghost came and pushed me from behind. I tumbled down the stairs head over feet several times, and not in the charming way you see in movies where you land, dust yourself off and take a bow.
I hit my head and elbows on the wall with loud thuds, and eventually splatted face down on the kitchen floor. My hair was mopped over my face. My shirt was ripped and soaked in beer. I sat up to see a room full of people quietly looking at me, and sure enough, there was Mandy, staring down with a concerned, but pitying face.
That moment is an endless well of embarrassment that I can’t fill with concrete. I think of it once a month, often for no reason.
Why do we feel embarrassment?
When you understand its mechanisms — it becomes much easier to tolerate and respect. If I had fallen down the stairs alone in my house, I’d have felt anger, hurt, or frustration — but never embarrassment. Other people must be present to feel embarrassed. Scientists call it social context.
When our ancestors came down from trees and sealed our purpose as a social species, it wasn’t a seamless process. We were far wilder and unkempt, and needed civility and social order to thrive.
Embarrassment evolved to help smooth out social cohesion and help people get along. No other known animals (except chimps, potentially) feel embarrassment. It’s as Charles Darwin said, “Blushing is the most peculiar and most human of all expressions.”
It is even a sign of good character. During one study, researchers asked two groups of 10-year-old boys a series of questions that were difficult to answer (such as “Who was Charles Darwin?”). The boys who were good students and well adjusted, strained to think of the answers, and later expressed embarrassment and concern for having missed so many questions.
The second group of boys, who were prone to violent and disobedient behavior, showed anger and frustration. They clinched their fists. But they rarely showed embarrassment. One boy even flicked off the camera and had to be removed from the room.
Why people appreciate your cringe
Through a series of unfortunate events, I was late to the airport and was being escorted by an employee to cut the line to catch my flight.
The line was enormous. We walked right past it and up to the booth where they check your ID before going through the metal detector.
There was an older Indian couple, a silver haired man and his wife in a full pink sari, who had probably been in line waiting for some time. My agent pointed for me to cut them. As I passed them, I instinctively held my hand up in a small apologetic wave while looking down and pursing my lips. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was conveying my embarrassment and apology through body language. The husband smiled and said, “No problem at all, sir.”
My feelings were genuine and seemed to score points with the couple. Without realizing it, my diminished body language had shown respect for social order and their presence.
Scientists tested this very concept. They showed participants a video of a man knocking over a retail display — but it had several versions. In the version where he calmly put the products back, they rated him as mature. But in the versions where he blushed and showed embarrassment, they liked him the most.
Even in the version where he didn’t put the products back, but showed embarrassment, he was still seen more favorably. Recipients thought he was empathetic and assumed he was too embarrassed to stick around.
Conversely, the man who smiled, felt no embarrassment, and kept walking as if nothing happened, was rated least likable.
You are bound to have moments
I could fill this article with dozens of examples, but I’ll share one last one. We were playing Scattergories with Laura’s parents and her friend.
There’s a detail that soon matters: Laura’s parents are older and from upstate New York. They are very kind, but fairly proper, quaint, and educated. I’ve never heard them curse or raise their voice. They are quite demure.
In Scattergories, there is an assigned letter each round and you answer a question starting with that letter. The letter was N, and the question was, “A fun object you use on the weekends.”
Her friend, who’d just met the parents, shouted, “Nipple clamps!” Laura’s parents looked confused. You should have seen Laura’s friend. She grew still, her eyes glazed over, and her face turned dark red in realization at her sudden honesty.
And I’ll be completely honest, I was smiling but a bit confused. I turned to Laura and quietly said, “What are nippl— ” and before I could finish, Laura smiled, put her hand on my leg and said, “We’ll talk about it later. OK?” The grit in her smile said, “Not now!”
We all laugh about the incident now but we don’t think less of Laura’s friend. In fact, it became an oddly endearing moment. It was also a good example of the deterring effect of embarrassment. Her friend is very unlikely to shout a naughty term during the game again. Just as I am much less likely to fall down the stairs.
The cringe you feel is a useful and respected form of self-regulation. People appreciate you for it. The alternative would be to go through life as a shameless wrecking ball. So come to value that wince. Know that it’s a form of forensic wisdom passed down from your ancestors and it has helped us get this far.
For all the many moments, and hallways of shame I’ve toured from my past, I can only remember a short few cringe moments by other people. And rarely has it made me think less of them.
Just remember that most people are too busy reliving their own lowlights to be worried about yours. Embrace the cringe. And above all, watch out for those stairs. That first step will get you.
I'm a former financial analyst turned writer out of sunny Tampa, Florida. I began writing eight years ago on the side and fell in love with the craft. My goal is to provide non-fiction story-driven content to help us live better and maximize our potential.