Is it cringe to be in pursuit of greatness?

When did it become so embarassing to talk about our aspirations out loud?

For the past few weeks, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Timothée Chalamet. I’m not usually a fan – sure, he’s a great actor, but the attraction to him isn’t something I personally get. Instead, I’ve been fixated on his SAG Awards speech, the one where he said: “I really am in pursuit of greatness. I know people don’t usually talk like that, but I want to be one of the greats.”

Because he’s right, we don’t talk like that – at least not anymore. Many of us grew up in a time that told us to shout our goals from the rooftops. We had to take up space! Speak greatness into existence! Reach for the stars and maybe land on the moon! But while “ambition is not a dirty word” may have been the rallying cry of 2010’s #girlboss feminists, nowadays it feels somewhat icky to say out loud that you want to be exceptional at what you do. That you want to be the best. To recognise your own importance is gauche. Other people can label us as “impressive,” but it’s cringe to declare it for ourselves. Instead, it’s seen as so much better to rise quietly and be nonchalant about your successes, particularly as a woman.

Is it peak humility or peak imposter syndrome? Are we scared to say our aspirations out loud in case they don’t come true, or because it’s become a bit embarrassing to be seen trying hard? Who knows.

My own ambitions have always been embarrassingly earnest. I remember entering a Disney Channel singing competition while in primary school and putting up posters asking the other kids to vote for me. (I did not win.) Throughout secondary school, I wrote blogs that I shared all over social media, not caring whether people thought it was lame. It was my ticket to becoming a professional writer and so nothing else mattered. In my own way, I was declaring to the world that I, too, wanted to be one of the greats – not in an Oscar-nominated/greatest Formula 1 driver of all time way, but in a big-shiny-career-that-people-pay-attention-to-me-for way. But was that the right thing to do? Should I have been openly trying so hard to be special when I could have played off what (little) success I was having as good fortune or a happy accident?

I shouldn’t have to pretend that I didn’t do all of this on purpose. Because I didn’t trip and fall into a life that sees me working as the sole senior writer at one of the most respected titles in the media industry, I spent years making myself known. I’ve nominated myself for journalism awards. I’ve approached brands I wanted to work with and podcasts I wanted to appear on. But still I wonder: would it make everything I’ve done more impressive if I said I winged it all? Would I be more likeable if I hadn’t tried so hard for what I have?

It’s a sociological fact that women don't talk about our achievements because we don't want to alienate others or big ourselves up unnecessarily. It’s the same reason so many of us struggle with self-promotion and talking about our strengths out loud – but it’s not just in our heads. Tall poppy syndrome – the discrimination that occurs when people are attacked, resented, criticised or belittled because of their achievements or successes – is a very real threat. One study found that almost 90% of women say they’ve been both penalised and undermined because of their achievements at work, because while our culture rewards the grind and the hustle, it doesn’t seem to want us to shout about it.

One look at my school reports from the age of about 11 and it’s clear: I have always been trying to be one of the greats. Even when it was embarrassing. Even when it rubbed people up the wrong way. A chronic over-achiever who’d rather push herself to the brink of burnout than say no to something that might advance my career, I am still trying to be one of the greats – whatever that means. Whether I can or not remains to be seen, but admitting it feels like an accomplishment in itself – and I owe it to myself to be more Timothée/ Lewis and at least try.

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If you liked this week’s letter or just want to reach out and say hi, I’d love to hear from you. I’m @amyjbeecham on X, @amy.beecham on Instagram and my website is amybeecham.co.uk.