Lately I seem to be getting The Fear a little more often than usual. It could be the drinking (too much) or the sunlight (too little) or watching the streets of Glasgow slowly transforming into tarmac-black rivers that come wet and gurgling out of the gutters. These are bad times really. The neighbour’s cat has stopped leaving the house for fear of being blown into oncoming traffic, and I feel the same, only venturing out for the thirty second jog to the pub. I go to the pub to escape The Fear. When I return home, The Fear is sitting smoking on my doorstep, ashing into the hydrangeas.
The Fear only seems to affect me in Glasgow. There’s no other city so thoroughly afflicted by shame and social anxiety (or perhaps nation, at least according to Carol Craig’s 2004 work ‘The Scots’ Crisis of Confidence’).
You may think this is a sweeping statement, but I’ve worked in self-deprecating Birmingham, self-pitying Liverpool and self-fellating Manchester and in none of these places are people afraid to be seen purchasing loo roll in case someone asks them if they’re away home for a shite now, aye? But in Glasgow this is just another day at the Big Tesco. We give each other The Fear because we’re consumed by it ourselves.
And the fact is that, however much I’d like to be, I’m not the first to say it. The concept of ‘Scottish Cringe’ — an alleged sense of cultural inferiority in regards to England, leading to feelings of resentment and embarrassment, (and, according to ex-First Minister Jack McConnell, opposition towards free-market capitalism) — has been well documented and needn’t be elaborated upon here. But among the younger generations of Glaswegians (namely the 20-somethings such as myself), Scottish Cringe has evolved, been replaced even, by a Glasgow-specific strain of the affliction. This is Riddy Culture: the “fear of being judged for doing anything outlandish, expressive, unorthodox or outwith social norms” (thank you, Urban Dictionary).
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This is really enlightening to me as a clearly sheltered adopted Glaswegian of 34 years. I’ve talked to many people who have come to Glasgow the last few years, and their big impressions is that anyone can just be themselves, dress however they like without being judged. But maybe that’s a matter of what you wear rather than what you do.
Your point at the end about responding to someone making fun of you and a conversation starting I recognise. I always understood that if a Glaswegian made fun of you, that was a sign of… camaraderie? inclusion? Not meanness but reaching out, and that you’re meant to respond with something witty back. (Sadly, I don’t have that natural wit so just have to laugh and be friendly, which also works with my accent).
I totally get though that this riddie experience is clearly a real thing for many people, and I did used to hear about it in different terms - being criticised for trying something new anyway.
Good to get an insight into what a lot of Glaswegians experience. Maybe that’s a factor in welcoming visitors so readily - they don’t ridicule.