Dear Fellow Human: Why Losing Isn’t a Shame

Dear fellow human,

Today is what I’d call a normal day: everything is working perfectly, which should immediately raise our suspicions.

The sun has risen (I assume it set an alarm), confidently spinning around the Earth—because why let a few centuries of science get in the way of tradition? Earth, as always, is doing its best impression of a sphere, though the poles remain stubbornly flat, just to keep things interesting. The stars are backstage, probably debating who gets to twinkle the most tonight.

Summer persists, and the heat is not so much a season as a personal vendetta, but we’re still here—armed with AC, electric fans, paper fans, and, in acts of pure desperation, our own hands. Let’s pause to appreciate the little mercies—like making it to lunchtime without fusing to the furniture.

I’ll admit, I’m counting the hours until this evening, when the temperature is supposed to drop—a whole six degrees, which is basically divine intervention. Maybe then, we’ll experience that mythical thing called comfort.

Teams playing soccer

On Losing a Game

Meanwhile, Spain is still celebrating their World Cup victory as if they personally invented soccer, and Argentina… well, Argentina is being handed a masterclass in how to turn losing—something that’s mathematically required in every competition—into a national tragedy.

Isn’t it odd that we treat defeat as if it’s a character flaw, when it’s really just part of the deal? Maybe the scandal isn’t losing, but how allergic we are to admitting it’s normal, maybe even necessary.

Today’s letter is my first letter, and I feel overly delighted to address this beautiful thing that we could call “losing a game”.

Growing up, I never really liked to play any games that required losing. I was not the best of the losers and most certainly not the most humble of the winners. From a very young age, I developed the ability to read through characters, and I used this superpower to read my adversaries before deciding whether to play.

Why? My friends were bullies. So when you lost a game, you didn’t lose just a game, but dignity, values and even friendship.

Sometimes, not playing was the safest bet—why risk your dignity, your reputation, and getting those nicknames that will be tied to you forever?

As a teenager, I started forcing myself into every game, believing that winning proved I was worthy. Losing? That was just a sign to try harder (or, occasionally, a sign that everyone was clearly conspiring against me—just a theory).

But adulthood reveals the twist: games are less about trophies and more about stamina, adaptation, and the humility to realize that losing doesn’t mean you’re a loser. It just means you played.

Which brings us back to Argentina: why do so many people call their loss shameful when the players are going home with $33 million? If that’s shame, please, sign me up. I’d love to lose so successfully.

Shame, Awareness, and the Heavy Backpack

Truthfully, I’m less interested in soccer than I am in people’s reactions to soccer. The way we all become instant experts—referees, coaches, motivational speakers—without breaking a sweat is truly humanity’s unsung Olympic event. Who needs the actual game when you have the post-game analysis from your aunt’s neighbor’s cousin?

The internet went wild. Messi should have done this, the referees should have done that, and Spain celebrated its victory as you would for a national holiday. It was a beautiful day, just like today.

The sun was high in the sky, dutifully spinning around the Earth (that’s how it works, right?), but the only real difference between that day and any other was: Argentina lost, Spain won, and now it’s history. Turns out, a normal, bright day feels very different depending on which side of the scoreboard you’re on.

If you ask me, shame is the world’s least productive hobby. It’s like carrying a backpack full of bricks—except you packed them yourself, and you keep insisting it’s for exercise.

Shame doesn’t just make you self-conscious; it turns existence into a competition you can’t win. I’d rather choose awareness, any day. At least awareness offers the hope of growth, while shame just hands you a dunce cap and a ticket to self-doubt.

The difference is subtle but life-changing: one says, “You could improve,” the other says, “You’re fundamentally broken.” Trust me, pick the lighter load.

So, since we are establishing the difference between the two, I must say, taking shame away is quite some work. Shame touches your identity and self-worth. It touches it in ways that are usually hard to "untouch".

How do I know that? Because I know what it feels like not to ask, “What could I do better?” but instead ask, “Why wasn’t I better?”

From the World Cup to the White House

While on July 22, 2026, we are still dissecting the World Cup final from three days ago—replaying every missed opportunity as though history itself depends on a football match—I find my thoughts drifting elsewhere.

If we’re going to spend our days remembering the past, perhaps we should also remember the moments when the stakes were infinitely greater than a trophy.

So tonight, I’d rather raise a glass of wine to Abraham Lincoln.

On this very day in 1862, he gathered his Cabinet in the White House and quietly announced a decision that would change the course of the Civil War—not with fireworks or celebrations, but with conviction. He intended to issue a proclamation declaring freedom for enslaved people in the Confederate states.

He didn’t announce it publicly yet—he simply stated it in that room, calmly but firmly, explaining that the Union needed a moral turning point. Some Cabinet members urged caution, others supported him, but Lincoln held his ground.

The Emancipation Proclamation itself would not be issued until January 1, 1863, but July 22 was the day the idea became a national commitment, the moment Lincoln shifted the war from a fight for union to a fight for freedom.

Losing your freedom is a tragedy; losing your dignity is a shame. The shame, however, never belonged to the enslaved—it belonged to those who enslaved them.

What Really Counts as Losing?

Losing the World Cup? Not even close to shameful.

True shame is the kind of loss that leaves your soul in so many pieces you’re considering a career in spiritual mosaic art. That’s the one to avoid. All else is just a plot twist.

Dear fellow human, I don’t know what game you’re playing right now, but let me remind you: if winning is the only thing that gives you value, you’ve already lost. And if losing doesn’t rob you of your humanity, then congratulations—you’ve mastered the ultimate victory: win or lose.

This is the Letters from Asmiri, your fellow human.

From my soul to yours.

Asmiri