How watching cringe content on the Internet is my survival strategy

It’s 10:53 pm on a Tuesday, and I’m sitting on the couch, staring at my phone. Not because I’m reading a literary masterpiece or catching up on current events (don’t get me wrong here; I have worked in the newsroom for years and I still love it...but at this hour, thanks, but no thanks), but because I am watching a male influencer make a parody reel of the very trending Asma doll (yes, yes, the one that claims to make anyone and everyone chitta). The dialogue delivery is painfully awkward and there is nothing cerebral about it. Yet, I CANNOT stop looking at it—my God, it’s gloriously cringe.

In the next room, my five-year-old twins are sleeping peacefully (thank me for such “very British” habits). My husband has a graveyard shift and is in office. As I enjoy my very little but much-deserved “me time”, I invariably find myself binge-watching cringe content on Instagram—I often refer to it as a life raft in my sea of chaos.

Okay, I admit it: I love cringe content. There, I have said it. I call it my little escapade from the relentless cycle of deadlines, edit meets, meal preps (can someone please decide for me what to eat/feed three times a day), charting out weekend activities, and trying to keep two tiny humans healthy and happy.

As a 36-year-old mother of twins who is trying to hold it all together along with a demanding job (I love it though), minimal family support, and fighting the voices in my head that tell me I am a complete failure every time I offer not-so-healthy food to my kids, here’s a confession: There’s something strangely comforting about watching other people make fools of themselves, albeit on the Internet.

I know what you must be thinking now: As a mature and responsible adult, I should be unwinding with a glass of wine, a thoughtfully curated book list, and maybe some soft music playing in the background. Well, the 16-year-old me had probably visualised such a “picture perfect” zen future for myself. But, my friend, the reality is very different. When I really need to declutter my mind and not think of anything, I would choose to look at a girl who mispronounces “quinoa” in front of a room full of nutritionists and wellness influencers any day. Give me that shopkeeper who keeps a guard dog only to find it sleeping through a robbery, or a group of boys waking up with a hangover in Australia to find gigantic bats at their Airbnb, or even the girl who tried to do a backflip at her wedding reception and accidentally kicked over the wedding cake. The intention is simple: I need to see that there’s someone who is messing up as much as I am, if not more. And let me tell you, there’s actually a whole lot of them.

Mind you, this is not just cheap entertainment. This is a survival strategy. Some people meditate, some do breath work, some journal, put on a face mask and sip herbal tea while thinking deep, meaningful thoughts. I, on the other hand, watch that guy who tries to show some trick to his girlfriend only to end up with a broken tooth. To each their own. 

After all, for that half hour of the day, I don’t have to be the responsible adult, the multitasking mom who is needed for every little (and big) thing, or the diligent daughter trying to care for her sexagenarian mother, or the woman who’s somehow expected to hold it all together with little more than sheer willpower and caffeine. Instead, I get to be a spectator in someone else’s reality—preferably the embarrassing moments. I call this my version of self-care. It’s not elegant or refined; it is real.

 

In a few (strange) ways, I think “wasting” those 30 minutes of my day watching cringe content is a form of rebellion too. Your parents, extended family, high achieving cousins, nosy relatives, and the society at large remind us that by this age, we should have it all figured out. But let’s stop kidding each other. Nobody has it all figured out (don’t let those influencers with their perfectly curated lives, matcha lattes, and aesthetic-everything fool you). So, here I am finding solace in the chaos of others, the glorious messes that remind me that it is okay if my life doesn’t look like a Pinterest board. 

So all you cringe content creators of the world, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You may not be aware but you are doing God’s work and giving exhausted moms like me a much-needed mental break. Also, you remind me that it is okay to laugh at life’s absurdity—and sometimes, at ourselves.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a cat in a costume video to watch before bed.

All images: Getty Images

This article originally appeared in Cosmo India's September-October print 2024 issue.

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