😖 In an era of carefully curated social media personas and AI-enhanced communication, awkwardness might seem like a relic of the past. But as we navigate the increasingly blurring boundaries between digital and in-person interactions, understanding awkwardness has never been more relevant.

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We know what it means to feel awkward, but how does it differ from embarrassment, self-consciousness, anxiety or fear? Awkwardness exists at the intersection of acute self-consciousness and uncertainty. It’s the moment in a video call when you can’t tell when to jump in to speak, or the split second of panic when you text the wrong group. While related to other social discomforts like digital social anxiety — a future-focused fear about how we will be perceived online — awkwardness is an immediate, present-focused experience accompanied by physiological responses.

That’s so cringe. Researchers studying “cringe theory” since the meteoric rise of social media suggest that we experience awkwardness when the version we present of ourselves clashes with how others actually perceive us and we begin to anticipate potential rejection. Social scientist Ty Tashiro describes awkwardness — and the physical response to it, cringe — as reactions to minor deviations from social expectations that trigger powerful emotional reactions.

No, you’re not autistic. The overdiagnosis epidemic has convinced many that universal feelings of awkwardness are exclusively autistic traits. Using research based on standard measures of autistic traits, Tashiro writes that the average person exhibits approximately 16 out of the 50 autistic traits, while the threshold for a diagnosis is typically 32. But in today’s environment of constant digital context-switching and attention fragmentation, it’s no wonder why many people who aren’t on the spectrum still experience difficulty with social skills, communication, and focus regulation.

The unexpected value of awkwardness: Studies consistently show that those in technical fields score higher on measures of awkwardness than those in humanities, with specialized technical competitors scoring highest of all. This connection between awkwardness and expertise remains strong even as workplaces become more collaborative and communication-focused. Why? Awkward people employ “ localized processing ” in social settings — focusing their attention on details of the interaction instead of the big picture — which can translate positively in the workplace, especially in STEM fields.

As we look toward the future of human connection, embracing awkwardness might be the most refreshingly human choice we make. In 1933, philosopher Peter Wessel Zapffe suggested that humans’ capacity for awkwardness is a consequence of our “overly involved intellect” — we have so much self-awareness that we can’t help but feel these micro-doses of shame and embarrassment. And there is redemption to be found in it — in a world increasingly mediated by technology and designed to eliminate friction, acknowledging awkwardness, laughing at it, and sharing it with others can convert isolation into connection, and even make it less terrifying.

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