Embarrassment is a Social Construct

A revolutionary realization that saved my summer

The double trouble of heavy rain and strong wind was underestimated in the afternoon weather forecast, but it was too late when I realized. I should have waited until the rain died down, but my mind was already set on going to the market, about a 15-minute walk from the apartment. I considered hailing a taxi but realized that 12 dollars was ridiculous for a four-minute ride, and waiting another hour for the rain to subside seemed silly, as that would push back my dinner plans. So, walking it was. 

Five minutes in, the rain started gushing down even harder. It was then that I realized I was wearing the worst possible outfit for trekking through a monsoon—a flowy mini skirt, sheer tank top, and sandals. But my outfit options were limited; I had packed light for my trip: only three skirts, four tops, and one pair each of heels and sandals. Fashion over function. Oh well. 

The first thing that went wrong was when my singular airpod blew out of my ear. The wind carried it mere centimetres away from the sewer, and I had to chase after it looking like a dog that was released off its leash for the first time in its life. Then, the wind decided to blow upwards into my skirt, forcing me to hold it down for dear life, praying that I didn’t flash anyone. That wasn’t enough embarrassment, apparently, because finally the umbrella I was barely gripping onto turned inside out in the middle of the crosswalk, forcing me to attempt to manually flip it back down while holding onto my skirt, only to realize one of the ribs had snapped in half. 

I felt my cheeks flush as I made it to the end of the crosswalk, one broken umbrella and my dignity left on the pavement. Frantically, I looked around to see if anyone was watching and noticed a family of three and an elderly woman glance away quickly as if they hadn’t seen the showdown this whole time. I felt utterly embarrassed, and the embarrassment ate me up then and there, all the way to the market, and all the way back home. 

I arrived home wanting to rip all my hair out, but with whatever resolve I had left, I decided that I wasn’t going to lose both my hair and dignity that evening. So, I brought out my trusted journal, also known as my trauma dump notebook, from my nightstand and wrote about the events of the afternoon, only to somehow end up writing a list of all the things I think are embarrassing.

things that are embarrassing:

• showing up to the function wearing the same dress as someone 

• admitting to lactose intolerance 

• not knowing the meaning of a word 

• dropping a fork in the restaurant (and having to ask for another one) 

• getting caught singing in the shower

• spilling food on yourself while on a date 

They don’t tell us journaling is a method of healing for no reason, because in that moment I came to a revolutionary conclusion: embarrassment doesn’t actually exist.

Why did wrestling with a stubborn umbrella in public make me cringe inside for hours? The people on the street could have had a good laugh, but it is quite possible that in five minutes or less, they would have forgotten of my existence. My moment of perceived shame was just that—a moment.

And if there was a zombie apocalypse and I was the only one left living on this planet, nothing in the world would be embarrassing anymore because there would be no one to judge me and no one to tell me what there is and isn’t to be embarrassed about. The concept is simply a product of social context and constructs we’ve internalized. Deep within us, we feel the need to be validated by others; that a failure to follow ‘conventional’ social rules is embarrassing. But these feelings are relative. What makes me blush with shame may not even faze you. Embarrassment only exists when you are reacting to a social construct. 

This summer, you can do whatever the hell you want and not be embarrassed for once. Hum while you stroll, dine at a restaurant alone, ask a stranger out, slip in your sandals, and show off your awkward tan lines. Live, laugh, and leave embarrassment behind. Because—ending this one off with a cliché—you only live once.