Every time you open a social media app, you see a man with a tote bag in tow, most likely sporting jorts, listening to a female indie artist through wired earbuds, with — the icing on the cake — a copy of what is considered “feminist literature” in hand. In short, this is what a “Performative Male” is—someone who curates their interests, values and aesthetics to appear more desirable and likable to women. This new internet archetype has taken social media by storm, reaching a point where even Performative Male contests have emerged, where people compete to win the most performative title. If you live in the greater LA area, you’ve probably seen this archetype at a flea market or an indie bookstore, just like I did, and chuckled to yourself. I will admit, the trend is quite a riot because once you pick up on what it is referring to, you can’t help but notice it everywhere.
I am not surprised that people react strongly to this trend. It is shocking to live in a world where cisgender men are performing in line with the preferences of women for once, especially when women live in a society that teaches them to tailor to the male gaze. Patriarchal structures are so woven and ingrained into our everyday lives that we can’t help but experience the culture shock that comes with a man caring about a woman’s opinion.
But, after further rumination, I couldn’t help but wonder why I felt like I was seeing Performative Men everywhere. I began to think about what I was perceiving as performative and why. Slowly, I realized I associated all the things I saw as performative with the feminine. It started to strike me as odd that we see self-expression through femininity as “inauthentic.” The trend also seems to portray performativity itself as inherently harmful, which simplifies the complexity of identity into a binary of “real” versus “fake,” as if we can only be sincere through masculine detachment.
I similarly find it very ironic that by criticizing men for embracing traits that society deems “feminine,” we end up reinforcing the very gender roles we claim to oppose. We have fought so hard to eradicate the potent gender roles that have confined and corrupted female mobility for centuries. But yet, for some reason, we are so invested in upholding these harmful roles that constrain men just as much as they constrain women that we’re willing to dismiss any man who strays from the “manly” script as insincere. We are quick to label men as inauthentic, but in doing so, what exactly are we protecting?
In short: patriarchy.
There is a dangerous notion that bell hooks addresses in “The Will to Change,” where she argues that women do not necessarily want to dismantle patriarchy, but rather seek to control it. This idea is evident in the attitudes toward the Performative Male trend, where women feel they have the authority to police male expression, even though these attitudes directly contradict the feminist values they claim to champion.
What bothers me most about this trend is that the concept of a Performative Man implicitly assumes the existence of an “authentic” man — one who is uninterested in women’s opinions and entirely true to themselves. To me, gender is a facade, one that can never be authentic because it is a social construct that we emphasize through our behaviors. This facade is how gender norms restrict us — because they lead us to believe gender is a fixed identity that exists in a vacuum rather than a socially constructed performance. In a way, we are all navigating the roles society has assigned us or we’ve chosen, which are all products of the society we live in. Even rejecting “feminine” traits is a performance — one shaped by its own set of societal expectations.
Ultimately, is a Performative Male really that bad? Even if every man reading feminist literature nowadays is putting on a front, is that really the worst thing in the world? If the alternative is a man who conforms to traditional masculinity, one who never steps outside the status quo, I’ll take the Performative Male every time. Perhaps he hasn’t fully grasped how to embody it yet, but at least he is presenting in a way that challenges the conventional notion of masculinity. At least he’s signaling that another version of masculinity is possible, one that does not conform and confine; one that acknowledges these gender structures, but does not care for them.
In a world that teaches men to armor themselves in detachment and dominance, even a carefully curated performance of softness is a radical start. If that performance opens new avenues of masculinity — gentler, more open, or less afraid — then let them perform.
Because sometimes, performance is how change begins.
Contact Samhita Krishnan at krishnan@oxy.edu
