I Used to Hide That I Was a Cuber. Now I Own It.

When you take pride in cubing, you make it easier for the next person to do the same.

Burke Mountain Fall 2019, East Burke, VT. Photo Courtesy of John Eppley.

There was a time I actively tried to hide that I solved Rubik’s Cubes. If someone mentioned it, I’d shut it down right away. If it came up in conversation, I’d downplay it. “Yeah, I can solve one… it’s kinda lame though, right?” That was the script.

At the time, I had never been to a WCA competition. I had never seen someone solve a cube in real life. It didn’t feel normal yet. In my head, cubers fit a certain stereotype, and I didn’t want to be put in that box. So I kept it to myself.

Even the content I followed around cubing was private. I remember listening to the CubeCast Podcast, not really wanting anyone to know I was that into it.

Then I heard an episode with Rowe Hessler.

I won’t spoil the story he shared, but it stuck with me. It felt real and, honestly, closer to the culture I came from around skateboarding and bikes than anything I had connected to cubing before. It made cubing feel less like some niche internet thing and more like a real culture, with real personalities and real stories behind it. I’ll link that episode here if you want to listen and try to find the moment I’m talking about.

That was the turning point.

It made me realize something simple. Cubers aren’t one type of person. They’re funny, competitive, confident, awkward, intense, creative, and real. They’re just people who happen to solve cubes at a high level, and many of them are proud of it.

Looking back, what really changed wasn’t cubing. It was me.

I stopped trying to act like what I thought people wanted me to be. I stopped downplaying something I cared about. I stopped hiding it.

I just owned it.

I’m a cuber.

That shift in confidence changed everything, not just how I saw cubing, but how I saw myself. From there, I got more involved. I went to competitions, helped organize events, worked in media, and saw the community from every angle.

The biggest thing I’ve learned is this: confidence spreads. The more seriously you take what you do, the easier it is for others to respect it. The more pride you take in it, the easier it is for the next person to do the same. That’s how a community grows.

Cubing only feels lame when we treat it that way. When we hide it, joke about it first, or act embarrassed, we reinforce the idea that it is something to be embarrassed about. But when we take pride in it, we raise the standard. For the next kid. For the next competitor. For the parents watching. For everyone.

For a lot of people, cubing isn’t just a hobby. It helps them build confidence. It helps them understand themselves. It did that for me, and I know it can do the same for others.

At its best, the cubing community should be a place where anyone feels comfortable being themselves. Where people are encouraged, supported, and proud of what they do. That doesn’t happen by accident. It happens when people choose to own it.

So if you’ve ever felt like you had to hide cubing, I get it. I was that person.

But you don’t have to stay there.

Be proud of it. Own it. And help the next person feel like they can do the same.