Cringe is Courage

Why the Ocean Needs Our Uncool Love

“Cringe.”

We toss it out like confetti when something feels awkward, earnest, or “too much.” But here at Ocean Hoptimism, we say: bring it on. Cringe is just sincerity unarmored. And the ocean deserves nothing less than open hearts.

The Policing of Passion

Cringe is a cultural reflex: a way to police what’s “acceptable.” We sneer at enthusiasm, roll our eyes at sincerity, and retreat to irony as armor. But that reflex costs us. What gets lost is honesty, wonder, and emotional maturity: the raw fuel of caring deeply.

Think about it: every ocean win was powered by people who cared deeply, often in ways others found corny, uncool, or naive. Jacques Cousteau’s poetic devotion to the sea inspired generations, even if his red beanie became a cliché. The “Save the Whales” bumper stickers of the 1970s were mocked, but they helped end commercial whaling. California sea otters? Written off as a “lost cause” until persistent (and yes, sometimes idealistic) advocates fought for their return. Cringe works.

Why the Ocean Needs "Cringe" Now

The ocean doesn’t need cynics. It needs people willing to risk awkwardness in the name of love, hope, and action. To gush about tidepools. To nerd out over plankton. To cry at a David Attenborough film. To say out loud: "I love this, and I’m scared of losing it."

Every time we dismiss joy as “cringe,” we shrink the space for passion to breathe. But when we let ourselves feel awkward, silly, over-the-top, and authentic, we open the door to connection. And connection is the seed of action.

Cringe-Worthy Acts That Actually Matter

So what does it look like to be unapologetically cringe for the ocean? Here are some tangible steps—small, visible, sometimes awkward—that move the needle:

• Talk to strangers about your love of the ocean. Yes, it’s awkward to tell your Uber driver you’re obsessed with barnacles, but that ripple might spread. Strike up some small talk about your love for the ocean with your seatmate on a flight. Talk about ocean challenges, but pivot to why you still believe the ocean has a future worth fighting for.

• Bring your own fork. Whipping a metal fork from your bag at a food truck perhaps feels like a dork move. But it models sustainability and also prevents more single-use plastics from entering landfills.

• Gush online. Post photos of tidepools or your sandy feet without apology. Share blurry porpoise photos from an SF Bay ferry ride, captioned "magical." Post a TikTok of you and friends singing a sea shanty. Celebrate beach cleanups with selfies in oversized rubber gloves. Hashtag it with reckless sincerity. Your unpolished love might inspire someone else.

• Join a community beach cleanup in a silly outfit. Mermaid tail, shark hat, whatever. It's not just a look suitable for Portland protestors. Cringe? Yes. Memorable? Also yes, and visibility matters.

• Write a letter to a policymaker that starts with “I love…” Bureaucrats aren’t used to emotional honesty. That’s exactly why it lands.

These steps might feel small or socially awkward, but they signal belonging, care, and persistence: the ingredients that have always powered movements.

Choosing Cringe Over Cool

The truth is, nothing’s more cringe than pretending not to care. Cool detachment is easy; it demands nothing of us. But love—real, goofy, wholehearted love—asks for risk. It asks us to blush, to be vulnerable, to be a little embarrassing in the service of something bigger.

At Ocean Hoptimism, our mission has never been to sit back with crossed arms and detached irony. We’re here to build a third space where ocean lovers can be unabashed, awkward, joyful, authentic, and sincere. To make room for hope and resilient optimism, and for passion without apology.

So yes. Come be cringe with us. Be earnest. Be wide-eyed. Be unabashedly in love with the ocean. Because history proves it: awkward passion changes things. And because the ocean is too magnificent, too imperiled, and too essential to settle for cool indifference.

After all, when sea levels are rising, when the reefs are bleaching, when communities are bracing for the next unprecedented storm, the only truly cringe thing left is pretending you don’t care.