Ian Hinsley explores what the archetype of the “performative man” can tell us about identity formation and expression among young people.
Vintage clothes, jewellery, and wired headphones playing Clairo’s top hits. You can picture him sipping a glass of red wine or an iced matcha while he fishes for a Colleen Hoover novel from his tote bag – the archetypical “performative man”.
The videos that minted this new sub-group follow a simple formula: a young man, dressed in often alternative or atypically masculine clothing, is spotted in public engaged in an activity typically associated with women – carrying a tote bag, listening to female artists or reading a romance novel. The label of “performative man” suggests that it is all an act and that the man in question does not actually care about these things. This seems to have evolved from the idea of the “male manipulator” trope: a man that dresses alternatively to lure women into a false sense of security, who then uses emotional manipulation tactics to maintain their relationship.
No one feature makes the performative male. A man can ditch the mullet and the moustache, prefer a coffee to a matcha, or never pierce an ear or eyebrow, but he can still be identifiably performative. The performative man is one who styles himself in an alternative or bohemian way that expresses a softer version of typical masculinity and displays an interest in feminine topics but supposedly does so for the purpose of appealing to women.
I use the word ‘supposedly’ for an important reason. The definition is based around the assumption of disingenuous interest; these men must necessarily be expressing themselves for the female gaze. This, however, raises the question: what if he is just like that? The label of “performative” has become a pejorative for any man that styles themselves in this way, regardless of intention. A man can be interested in romance literature, love female indie artists, enjoy drinking matcha and wine, and dress themselves in 90’s denim – all in earnest self-expression – but still have their general demeanour categorised as performative.
This idea is very reminiscent of the “pick-me girl” phenomenon: the concept, mainly among young men, that a woman who expresses interest in typically male-dominated hobbies is only doing so to attract attention. Women have been questioned or ridiculed for their engagement with sports, film, cars, exercise, video games – the list goes on. An all-too common experience goes as follows: a woman wearing a classic rock t-shirt is asked to “name three songs” to prove that she is a “real fan” – the implication here is that women must defend any interest that breaks norms. This has led to women feeling rejected and discouraged from expressing their interests if they fall outside of gendered norms, either keeping those interests to themselves or abandoning them outright.
I believe the moniker of “performative man” is an extension of this. Men breaking with social norms are assumed to be disingenuous and must in some way prove to be sincere in their expression. I have personally had several conversations with friends of mine along this line: “Your style is so performative man – not that you’re performing – I know you’re just like that”. The burden of proof is not on the individual’s expression, but instead on others’ assessment that they are genuine.
While both men and women must defend their breaking of social expectations, there is still a gendered aspect here: notice the diminutive “girl” applied to “car-girl” or “gym girl”, while men maintain their status, even if they are expressing themselves in atypical ways. Women are far more likely to be confronted to justify their interest, while the man is labelled as performative from afar, and left as such.
Women can find utility in the protection that these labels provide. It may feel unfair to men attempting self-expression to be categorised as performative, but to a woman meeting a “performative male”, the label reminds them to watch for manipulation or red flags. By contrast, “pick-me girls” present no significant physical danger to most men. This makes up what I call the “performative paradox”. On one hand, the use of the term reinforces old sexist tropes that discourage deviance, and on the other it acts as a defence mechanism for women to maintain their safety when meeting “softer” men that still pose a very real threat.
Widening the lens to an issue plaguing Gen-Z is our tendency to reject sincerity and seek protection through irony. Gen-Z mocks anything considered “cringe”, but often the cringe is simply personal expression that deviates from the norm. A man may choose to dress in an atypical way and engage in traditionally feminine interests, and he is just as quickly bunched into the neat label of “performance”.
The existence of “performative male contests”, where men intentionally over-express this style for the sake of irony is the end-stage of our generational problem: there is a need for self-expression, but the only acceptable way is to do so through the lens of self-deprecating irony. I also want to question the defining trait of the performative man: that he is only doing so to be attractive. The most viral videos of this archetype are of attractive men who know they are being perceived that way. But is this not what we want to some degree? We supposedly celebrate self-confidence, but when someone is seen to be confident that he is attractive, we jump to ridicule.
The performative paradox is just another bump along our generation’s road of improvement. The myth that Gen-Z would break every norm in the pursuit of societal betterment is just that – a myth. This seems to be the fate of our generation: we yearn for sincerity; however, once we see others achieve that self-expression, we reject it, label it, mock it, just to wrap all the way back to ironic engagement – the same expression, but without the baggage of earnest vulnerability. The performative man is just another trope – one among many that we need to critically examine and unpack before we can come back around to sincere self-expression.