Can power posing feel natural—or always awkward?

The elevator doors slide shut and it’s just me, my sweaty palms, and a vague reflection in metal walls. I’m heading up to a job interview, running through possible questions - and I notice I’m hunched like a question mark myself. I remember that TED talk about “power posing.” Should I throw my arms out like Wonder Woman right here? Anxious brain says: you’ll look like a meme. Other brain whispers: do it, you need all the help you can get. The doors open. I do nothing. The moment passes, and the question sticks: can power posing ever feel natural, or is it doomed to be cringe?

why we flinch at the idea of striking a pose

Social anxiety runs on a loop of “who’s watching me” + “they’re judging me.” Any big gesture feels like handing out front-row tickets to that internal meltdown. Add the pop-psych vibe around power posing and it can feel gimmicky - like holding a selfie stick in 2024. The awkwardness usually comes from three places:

1. The pose doesn’t match our self-image (“I’m more side-kick than superhero”).

2. We try it in public first, so the spotlight effect freaks us out.

3. We expect instant swagger and get, well, nothing dramatic.

Good news: none of those are deal-breakers. They’re friction points you can sand down.

tiny experiments that steal the weirdness

Forget the full “hands on hips, chin up, feet wide” move for a sec. Start with subtle shifts that no one clocks as a pose.

- Lengthen your spine like someone just tugged the top of your hoodie.

- Roll shoulders back once; let them stay there.

- Ground feet hip-width, knees soft, weight balanced.

- Let arms hang, palms open instead of clenched.

Hold that for two slow breaths. Congrats - you’re in a low-key power stance. No cape required. Repeat whenever you stand to pour coffee, wait for a bus, or queue for tacos. Your body learns the shape until it feels default instead of cosplay.

timing and place matter more than the pose

Trying a wonder-woman stance in a glass elevator is asking for awkward. Use pockets of privacy: restroom stall, stairwell landing, behind a closed car door. Thirty seconds there buys calm for the next ten minutes outside. Also, pair the pose with something you already do: stretch break at your desk, cracking your back after a long drive, even that last mirror check before a date. When the pose piggybacks on a normal habit, it registers as routine instead of theater.

turn posture into a personal story

Confidence isn’t just a shape; it’s the story you tell yourself while holding that shape. Pick a word or short phrase that means something - “capable,” “steady,” “let’s go.” Say it (quietly) as you settle into posture. Now your brain links the word, the feeling, and the physical cue. Over time, the pose becomes shorthand for that inner soundtrack. It’s like saving a keyboard shortcut for swagger.

If superhero vibes still feel off, remix the pose so it fits your style. Maybe one hand in a pocket, maybe arms crossed but shoulders back, maybe seated with feet planted and chest open. The goal is open, balanced, and deliberate, not a textbook diagram. When it looks like you, it stops feeling like an act.

keep it real, keep it moving

Power posing isn’t magic glitter you sprinkle before a hard conversation. It’s closer to building muscle memory. Tiny, private reps teach your body a calmer default. Less hunch = deeper breath = clearer voice. That clarity is what people notice, not the pose itself.

So next time the elevator doors close, try a miniature version: stand tall, breathe twice, think “steady.” No dramatic arm spread necessary. If someone walks in, you’ll just look like a person with decent posture - which is never awkward. And if the doors open and you feel one notch braver, that’s the payoff. Keep stacking those notches. Soon enough the question shifts from “will I look weird?” to “why did I wait so long to stand like this?”