Doing it stupid: A philosophy of starting afresh

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Sazida Nahrin Auhona
7 December 2025, 09:44 AM
UPDATED 7 December 2025, 15:50 PM

"Every day of your lives is practice in becoming the person you want to be. No instantaneous miracle is suddenly going to occur and make you brave and courageous and true."

― Audre Lorde

Like many people during COVID, I decided to learn a new skill. I thought learning a language would be fun and picked French; the language of "love". Boy oh boy, did it force me to love myself. The nouns, verbs, and pronouns took a toll on me, but what scared me the most was the pronunciation. Not because it was difficult, but I feared that when I mispronounced, I would look stupid. A few weeks in, and I gave up until I took French again last year and did excellent on my course from every aspect. But most of the time, life doesn't come with second chances. Why was I scared to look stupid in something I just started? Why do we stop ourselves from trying and learning new things because we might not be good at it?

The fear of appearing like a fool stops us from doing things more than we can remember. We feel like drawing but don't draw because it won't turn out like the Mona Lisa. We save recipes but are too scared to try because it will never be perfect. In our heads we sing and dance wonderfully and people clap but we start and end our lessons by just watching "how to sing" videos. It's a paralysing feeling, a warning that says" if we step outside of what I already know, we risk looking in front of others." This fear of appearing "stupid" can be so powerful that it stops us from the very steps that will take us to our dream results.

No one becomes a master in a day, no one reaches perfection at day one. Everyone begins as a beginner and makes mistakes. Even our favourite singers, our ideal actor did their fair share of errors when they started. That is why their stories inspire us, not because of how good they are but how hard they worked to get there. Imagine if they feared looking foolish, we would never even know their names. If we refuse to look a little foolish, we also refuse the possibility of becoming someone better and becoming more capable than we were before.

When we were children, we embraced learning without shame.  We didn't sprint on day one. We stumbled, we fell, we cried, and got back up again.  A toddler wobbling as she is learning to walk doesn't care about her lack of coordination. She is far more excited about exploring the world in new ways. But as we grow older we slowly forget to live for ourselves and give in to society's judgment of us. We don't feel excited to learn new things anymore, we are scared and embarrassed.

 The mindset is understandable. But it is also very limiting. When we refuse to try something simply because we are scared of looking stupid we are shrinking our own lives.

We avoid opportunities that might have changed our lives. Imagine how many skills, relationships, hobbies we lose simply by deciding that we are not competent enough? Competence itself is impossible without passing through incompetence first. Every expert was once painfully mediocre. Every naturally gifted person went through their own hardships of taking the first steps. The singers whose voices heal us today once made squeaks that even made their parents wince. The confident swimmer once swallowed a mouthful of water. The academic scholar couldn't read once.

This is why embracing "doing it stupid" can be life-changing. It helps reframe the experience of a beginner as a doorway to excellence instead as a source of shame.  When we allow ourselves to look silly we give ourselves permission to learn authentically. We stop performing from competence and start building it. In this sense, the willingness to be a beginner is a form of courage itself; yes, that might look different from heroic bravery but it is just as transformative.

We live in a world that celebrates quick success and effortless talent. But these narratives hide the messy reality of practice. Real learning is uneven; we improve, we regress, plateau and then rise again.

Moreover, looking "stupid" is not that bad. Most people are too focused on their own insecurities to judge others harshly. And when they do judge, it often reflects their own discomfort with vulnerability, not with our worth. I think people tend to admire people who try new things openly and fail honestly, it inspires others to do the same. In this way, courage becomes communal. One person's willingness to "do it stupid" can create a safe space where others feel safe to experiment and grow as well.

There is also a relief in accepting that mastery takes time and effort. We live in a world that celebrates quick success and effortless talent. But these narratives hide the messy reality of practice. Real learning is uneven; we improve, we regress, plateau and then rise again. The process becomes less about proving ourselves and more about discovering ourselves.

 Ira Glass, an American host and producer, says, "Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple of years you make stuff, it's just not that good. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know it's normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions."

Life is too short to live within the boundaries of what we already know. Newness is uncomfortable, but it is also alive. Newness reminds us that growth is still possible and our story is still unfolding. The embarrassment we fear so much fades quickly but the experiences, skills and confidence we gain along the way stay.

Embarrassment is the cost of entry. If you are not willing to look like a foolish beginner, you will never be a graceful master. And you know what, embarrassment is an unexplored emotion. Go ahead, make a fool out of yourself and learn something new. Do it stupid, do it uncertain, do it clumsy, and make a mess. Let yourself be a beginner unapologetically. Every master you admire once stood exactly where you stand now, choosing between fear and growth. The only difference is that they began.

And so can you. 


Sazida Nahrin Auhona is an undergrad student who lives somewhere between art, literature, and philosophy. You can reach out to her at auhonanahrin@gmail.com


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