Introducing the Shame Wizard

The Brilliance of Big Mouth and How We Can Learn to Challenge Our Own Shame Wizard

The animated character slithers in with a raspy British accent and impeccable timing—usually right after someone masturbates, says something awkward, or looks in the mirror too long. He’s not a parent, not a teacher, not even a real person. He’s the Shame Wizard from the Netflix show Big Mouth.

But anyone who’s ever felt gross about their body, or panicked after a moment of vulnerability, knows exactly who he is. He doesn’t need an introduction because, if you’re a human being with a brain and a body, you’ve probably met him already. He’s not just a character on a show, we each have our own Shame Wizard living inside our head.

Shame Wizard from the show Big Mouth

Big Mouth 101

For those who haven’t spent time in the weird, hormonal universe of Big Mouth, it’s an animated Netflix show created by Nick Kroll that explores adolescence, puberty, and all the glorious awkwardness that comes with it. Think: talking genitals, hormone monsters, ghost mentors, and lots (lots) of very uncomfortable truth bombs. It’s South Park meets Simpsons, meets Family Guy.

But somewhere between the fart jokes and cringe-worthy moments, Big Mouth manages to name and personify emotions in a way that’s not just funny—it’s honest. There’s the Hormone Monster who surfaces once puberty hits. There’s a Depression Kitty who is big, cute, cuddly and when she sits on you, you feel stuck in a sort of safe, comforting and paralyzing way. And then, there’s the Shame Wizard.

Voiced with haunting flair by David Thewlis, the Shame Wizard isn’t just a character. He’s a cultural commentary. He’s the embodiment of every “should,” every “you’re disgusting,” every “what will people think?” we’ve ever internalized. He lurks in the corners of our thoughts, whispering the meanest things possible. And what’s worse, we end up believing him.

Why the Shame Wizard thinks he’s helping

Here’s the kicker: the Shame Wizard genuinely believes he’s doing good. One of his more revealing quotes is:

“Whether they know it or not, people need shame. It protects them from the sickening filth that festers within… shame is the cone you place around the head of your dim‑witted dog to prevent him from gnawing at his own genitals.”

Gross? Yes. Accurate? Also yes.

This is where the show nails it—shame is framed as protective. As something that keeps us from becoming chaotic, indulgent messes. From eating too much. From being too loud. From wanting too much. From being seen.

It’s a voice many of us have absorbed without realizing it. And for men, in particular, that voice often shows up in moments of softness: when we cry, when we ask for help, when we feel insecure about our bodies or worry we’re “too much.”

The real-world shame wizard

The Shame Wizard isn’t just a cartoon. He’s the little voice that shows up:

• When we reach for food, saying, “Should you be eating that?”

• When we tear up, we hear, “Be a man.”

• When we get winded walking up stairs and we think, “If I just lost weight…”

• When we struggle, we say, “This is all my fault. I’m broken.”

That voice doesn’t come from nowhere. It’s built from years of diet culture, masculine ideals, and the subtle (and not-so-subtle) messages we get from families, media, and even healthcare providers.

Shame becomes a tool of social control. It's the way we get people to conform. Stay small. Stay quiet. Don’t take up too much space—physically or emotionally.

And just like the show, we see shame as a motivator for change. I’ve said it before, and it bears repeating: no good behavior change comes from shame. It never has. Yet, we continue to rely on shame for making us “better”.

Why naming it matters

Here’s where Big Mouth offers something hopeful. When the characters begin to recognize the Shame Wizard—when they name him and call out his bullshit—he loses some of his power.

That’s the invitation for all of us, too.

You can’t fight what you don’t see. And when shame operates in silence, it feels like truth. Like it’s your failure. Your weakness. But when we name it, we can start to see it for what it is: a survival strategy that was never really ours to begin with.

So what now?

If you're reading this and thinking, “Wow, I’ve got a whole damn Shame Parliament living rent-free in my head,” welcome to the club. The goal isn’t to evict the Shame Wizard entirely—he’s persistent. However, you can adjust his volume. You can question him. You can respond with curiosity instead of criticism. You can even thank it, realizing it’s just trying to help, but there are other things that might be helpful.

And most importantly: you can stop letting shame be the thing that makes your choices for you.

The Shame Wizard is fictional. But the voice that tells us we’re disgusting, wrong, or too much? That’s real. And maybe the bravest thing we can do is start recognizing that voice—not to banish it entirely, but to stop letting it run the damn show.

Lastly, I highly recommend you watch Big Mouth. It’s a fantastic show. We all needa good laugh right now.