Kate Glavan found herself in a deep rut.
At 26, after relocating to New York from Minnesota for university, Ms. Glavan graduated into a tough pandemic job market. She decided to dive into content creation, sharing running videos, wellness tips, style advice, and political commentary. She even launched a successful weekly run club, cultivating a loyal online community.
However, after seven years and the profound loss of her father, Ms. Glavan realized her connection to New York had faded. In a blend of grief and a longing for change, she made a drastic move to London, meticulously sharing every detail of her relocation online.
The anticipated fresh start in London, however, proved elusive. Without a conventional job, securing an apartment was impossible. Setting up basic necessities like a bank account or phone number became a frustrating bureaucratic nightmare. With her audience largely in the U.S., British brands showed little interest in collaborations, and American companies faced post-Brexit shipping hurdles. A shift to solely political content also failed to resonate, intensifying her financial worries.
As these challenges unfolded publicly and in real-time, Ms. Glavan recognized she was experiencing “cringe mountain.” This concept has become an unavoidable phase of adulthood for Generation Z, a cohort that has lived their entire lives—including their most awkward moments—under the unblinking eye of the internet.
The main image accompanying the article shows Erica Mallett, a creator consultant, who coined the term cringe mountain.
A visual from Kate Glavan’s journey shows her, a creator known for running videos, documenting her significant move from the United States to Britain.
Another image illustrates Ms. Glavan branching into political commentary, openly accepting that some viewers might label her content as “cringe-worthy.”
“While I wouldn’t claim being an influencer is the world’s hardest job, it uniquely lacks a traditional boss, a structured career path, or clear performance feedback,” Ms. Glavan stated. “When you’re navigating ‘cringe mountain,’ it’s incredibly easy to turn that scrutiny inward. You start questioning everything: ‘Am I unattractive? Am I unintelligent? Am I just annoying? Do my videos simply suck?’”
The term “cringe mountain” originated with Erica Mallett, a 34-year-old creator consultant in Sydney, Australia, who conceptualized it in 2023. Ms. Mallett experienced significant public exposure, initially as a member of the hip-hop duo Coda Conduct, and later as a host of a national breakfast radio show. This sudden visibility meant she was inundated with messages from listeners labeling her as “so cringe.”
The act of publicly faltering, facing judgment, and ultimately building resilience is not a new human experience. However, the lexicon used to describe it has evolved. The word “cringe” is a product of the internet era, emerging from comment sections and meme culture to encapsulate intense feelings of awkwardness or social embarrassment.
Initially, Ms. Mallett attempted to diminish her public presence to sidestep criticism. Yet, this only muted her unique personality and hampered her creative expression. She eventually reinterpreted the term, embracing “cringe” as tangible proof of her willingness to experiment and take risks. For her, “climbing cringe mountain” became synonymous with personal and professional development.
In a popular TikTok video, Erica Mallett personally introduces her concept of “cringe mountain,” passionately advocating for the importance of “not being afraid to be seen as trying” and celebrating self-development. The video features various hashtags like #cringe, #encouragement, and #selfdevelopment.
Identity formation has always involved experimentation, but it historically carried lower stakes. Today, this process feels significantly more scrutinized, even for individuals not in the public eye, observes Roberta Katz, a Stanford anthropologist and co-author of “Gen Z, Explained: The Art of Living in the Digital Age.”
Dr. Katz explains that Generation Z matured under a constant digital gaze, with ubiquitous cameras and social media platforms magnifying every moment. This relentless exposure, coupled with applications designed for instant judgment, has fostered a pervasive culture of digital surveillance. Consequently, many young people are reluctant to explore new hobbies or express their true selves openly, fearing the label of “cringe.”
“During my upbringing, my social circle was primarily limited to family, church, or school; the entire world wasn’t potentially watching,” Dr. Katz recalled. “Gossip and bullying existed, but never on a massive scale. Today, both actions and reactions are amplified globally, fundamentally altering their impact.”
Ms. Glavan resonated with this, noting that in her Minnesota childhood, internet access was restricted to a designated computer room. Now, her phone is a constant portal to the internet, bringing with it the omnipresent judgments and opinions of countless others, wherever she may be.
In response, public figures are starting to challenge this by explicitly naming the pervasive feeling, much as Ms. Mallett has done.
Poet and essayist Ocean Vuong recently asserted that “cringe culture” is hindering young people’s development. He observed, “We yearn for sincerity among the youth, yet we feel uncomfortable when true sincerity is present.” Similarly, comedian Bowen Yang, co-host of the “Las Culturistas” podcast, likened his tenure on “Saturday Night Live” to navigating “cringe mountain”—a rigorous ordeal of instant feedback and public mistakes.
A series of images from a Nike ad campaign, narrated by Tyler, the Creator, showcases the brand’s reimagined tagline from “Just Do It” to “Why Do It?”
Musician Tyler, the Creator has adopted an alternative approach. To celebrate his latest album, “Don’t Tap the Glass,” he organized listening parties that strictly prohibited phones and cameras. In a now-deleted social media post, he reflected, “I inquired why some friends avoid dancing in public, and many cited the fear of being filmed. It made me ponder how much of our collective human spirit is suppressed due to the fear of becoming a meme.”
Even prominent brands are now recognizing the inherent risks of public vulnerability—a defining characteristic of “cringe”—when outcomes are uncertain. Recently, Nike launched a new campaign, “Why Do It?”, which reinterprets its iconic “Just Do It” slogan. Narrated by Tyler, the Creator, the advertisement portrays athletes pushing their limits, with his voice questioning their drive to try when failure is a clear possibility.
“This campaign serves as an alarm clock for the new generation, urging them to realize their full potential,” stated Jesse Stollack, Nike’s North America marketing vice president, in an interview. “Accomplishment doesn’t come from mere thought, desire, or longing. The sole path to achievement is through taking action—by simply doing.”
Reflecting on the widespread adoption of her phrase, “cringe mountain,” Ms. Mallett suggested it resonated because it articulated a common, unnamed feeling.
“I offered them a personal mantra, an alternative justification,” she clarified. “If someone says, ‘You shouldn’t do that,’ your new response can be, ‘But I can, because it’s perfectly acceptable.’ The path to genuine confidence and coolness inevitably leads through ‘cringe mountain.’”
Yola Mzizi is a reporter for the Styles section and a member of the 2025-2026 Times Fellowship class, a program dedicated to supporting early-career journalists.