The liberating power of sucking at things

On accepting—and finding joy in—a lack of skill or finesse.

I said something on Tuesday at a virtual creativity workshop that, as soon as it came out of my mouth, I realized might be somewhat controversial. It might surprise some to learn that I’m not typically in the business of making controversial comments; while I have strong feelings about a lot of things, I don’t live for the thrill of saying things that are guaranteed to incite a reaction. (Isn’t there enough drama in the world already?)

I had been talking about my insecurity regarding a new project I’d dreamt up. I mentioned that this type of project was outside of my wheelhouse, that I was unsure whether it suited me or if I’d do the material justice. “I don’t want to call it imposter syndrome—that term is everywhere, and we can’t all have imposter syndrome all the time,” I said. “Sometimes, some of us probably just suck.”

I regretted it as soon as I said it, but not because I don’t stand by what I said. (I mostly regretted the aggressiveness of my phrasing.) In the days since the workshop, I’ve thought over and over about the differences—and overlap—between believing we’re not good enough and actually not being very good at something. I know, just like most people, that there are plenty of situations in which we do actually belong in a certain job, craft, or community; we just have to battle through our own insecurities—and sometimes external invalidation—in order to accept that. But in other situations, that little voice at the back of our head might know what it’s talking about.

Sometimes we have a long way to go before we’ll be knowledgeable of or good at something. And that’s okay.

In fact, it can be freeing to accept that we just sort of suck at something. Sucking usually isn’t a permanent condition. Skill is (often arduously) built, and none of us are exempt from undergoing that long and exhausting process. (Yes, even that friend growing up who was suspiciously good at everything.) We all have to start somewhere, and sometimes we find ourselves at that brutal and discouraging starting point, wondering whether we belong or if the road ahead is worth it.

Once, when I was a child, I found myself talking to my aunt about painting our nails. “I’m not very good at manicures,” my aunt said.

“Don’t say that!” I said. “I bet you are.”

“I’m really not,” my aunt replied. “And that’s okay! It’s alright if we’re not good at everything.”

Simple as they were, those words have bubbled to the surface of my mind every time I’ve insisted to someone that I’m truly not good at drawing, running, or other activities at which I really, authentically suck. Not only does fibbing about my skill level prevent me from making meaningful progress with that skill, but I’m willing to engage in activities even if I’m bad at them. In fact, that’s where the liberating aspect of all this comes in.

If an activity is enjoyable, it’s worth doing even if we’re not very good at it. Cooking, painting, gardening, dancing, programming, sewing, decorating, playing the same level of a difficult video game over and over—if we like doing it, our engagement is still valuable. Extracting joy, relaxation, or knowledge from an activity is enough, even if we never improve at that activity.

I’m terrible at drawing, but I’m still doodling my way through a new zine project, because it’s fun and it will make me smile when I look back on it someday. I’m also awful at jogging; I don’t think my form is right, and my body screams at me if I do it for more than a minute or so. But I occasionally run to the end of the block or sprint on the treadmill during an easy stroll, because it’s rewarding to get my heart pumping and feel the wind on my ears. I don’t plan on becoming good at either of these things, either.

Coming to terms with a relative lack of skill can be humbling, especially if it’s related to a lifelong dream or a significant career move. But it’s a vital step toward actually becoming good at that thing, and in an age hyper-focused on optimization, results, and monetization, sucking at something can be strangely freeing. Whether you’re learning something new just for fun or taking some time to improve at something you’ve always loved, you finally have something capitalism can’t touch.

What’s been inspiring me lately:

✰ Crafting! Over the past two weeks, I’ve made my partner a cute little card, had some pals over for Valentine’s Day crafts, finished an excessively complicated paint-by-numbers kit, bought (and used!) a sewing machine, and watercolored some doodles for a perzine I’m making. I’ve always liked seeing a project physically come to fruition before my eyes, but lately I haven’t been able to get enough.

✰ My garden. This week, my partner and I finally got to munch on some of the butter lettuce we planted back in November. We couldn’t stop marveling at how we’d grown a whole salad in our own tiny backyard with just a few seeds. It’s a treat to watch plants do their thing, and I imagine continuing to garden will be a welcoming exercise in patience.

✰ Create for Community, a creativity workshop hosted by the lovely Molly Korroch. Twice a week, a small, ever-changing group of women and non-binary folks convene virtually to meet one another, spend 30 minutes on a personal creative project, and then chat about how it went. I’ve attended a few times now, and I’ve always felt right at home. I’ve also had the pleasure of meeting some incredibly cool, skilled, and accomplished individuals, which inspires me a ton.

✰ The Wilderness Warrior by Douglas Brinkley. It’d probably be more accurate to say that Theodore Roosevelt’s undying delight for nature and wildlife inspires me, as well as his courage and determination; however, I wouldn’t know about most of these things if not for Brinkley’s 900-page tome. I’m still working through it, though. Someone help me.