OPINION | The Performative Male: A Symbol Of Gen Z Self-Curation
Photo Credit: Minh Connors via San francisco Chronicle
Allow me to introduce you to the latest archetype to emerge from the deep recesses of the internet: the mythical, illusive, and apparently ubiquitous performative male. He drinks matcha, reads feminist literature, and listens to Clairo through wired headphones. He carries a tote bag adorned with keychains (a Labubu perhaps) and wears knit sweaters. All of this in hopes of attracting a modern woman. The performative male is the antithesis of the “Alpha Male,” and has a soft and appealing aesthetic that almost seems authentic. Almost.
When this trend emerged, the internet decided that it was simply toxic masculinity hiding behind a conveniently placed copy of The Bell Jar. Now a meme (apparently so viral that it became a Hamber grad spirit day), the performative male is seen as another misogynist stereotype commenting on the behaviour of modern men. But don’t be mistaken. This man is most certainly Gen Z. While there has been poser culture long before the performative male graced us with his presence, his pseudo activism and curated aesthetic are undeniably of this era. Rather than providing an insight into male behaviour, this trend is instead a comment on Gen Z as a whole — the ultimate wielders of performance and self-curation.
While not all young people engage in performative behaviour, living in an era with social media — where appearances and aesthetics reign supreme, and identity is tied to material and media consumption — can influence how young people identify. Crafting an outward identity that reflects idealized attributes of a trendy appearance is just another way social media users generate online attention and positive feedback in the form of dopamine. As the line between social media and reality blurs, online personas begin to corrupt individuals' unfiltered identities. As a result, social hierarchies, self-worth, and identity become more and more tied to established online values.
When the performative male curates an identity of softness and femininity through visual expression, he conforms to an aesthetic, making him a symbol of Gen Z inauthenticity. Originally a philosophical study of beauty, aesthetics have taken over youth’s identity and self-expression. Instead of finding a category that defines their personal style or vibe, young people change themselves to fit into the latest trending aesthetic. You are a clean girl, dark academia, cottagecore, weirdcore, grandma core. The possibilities are endless. If you don’t fit into an aesthetic, then you can simply be aesthetic. And there is nothing more desired than being aesthetic — not unique enough to deserve a special title, but still curated enough that your look is envied. Aesthetics are a facade that young people can hide behind. The way they outwardly present is not an indication of their values or personality, but rather done to conform to online ideations of visual appearance.
Spotting a performative male in the wild is easy if you know what to look for. Often described as the consumerist “final boss,” the archetype is most known for his physical possessions: his Labubu, his sweater, his tote bag, and his egalitarian literature. This reflects a core Gen Z philosophy: you are your material and media consumption. What you buy and what you watch is who you are. You read certain books, listen to certain music, and watch certain movies in order to be perceived as someone who reads, listens to, and watches that type of media. You shop at certain stores, buy certain brands, and conform to certain trends so others will perceive you as the type of person who spends their money according to a certain set of material guidelines. Deliberate consumption choices make up your identity.
You don’t consume according to your likes and interests. Instead, your likes and interests are decided by your consumption, and your consumption is decided by trending personas and aesthetics. Consumption labels (e.g. if you like Taylor Swift, you are a Swiftie) give this generation something to decorate their personalities with. In a world where aesthetics outweigh principles and beliefs, many facets of one’s character become obsolete. This is where the algorithm — at the behest of its creators, who are paid billions by advertisers to manipulate users to buy things — sweeps in and convinces young people that they can replace those values with material consumption.
Despite a lack of core principles, beliefs, and respect for certain issues, Gen Z are still activists. At least it says so in their Instagram bios. Pseudo-activism is a performative, superficial form of advocacy that lacks commitment to actually initiating or contributing to real change. Young people have taken this on because outrage gets likes. In the age of social justice warriors, everyone has a “hot take,” but no one has anything new to actually say. The performative male, who pretends to care about feminist and liberal causes, is simply a mirror of young people’s desire to appear as though they are participating in activism for social clout.
The most iconic part of this trend is that all the facets and attributes that the performative male is ridiculed for are actually hallmarks of the Gen Z facade. Drinking matcha because of its “aesthetic” is not unique to the performative male. Something about the Instagram-ability of matcha is too much for young people to resist, and it certainly isn’t because of the antioxidants. While there are many young people who enjoy reading, there are also members of Gen Z who parade around their copy of The Picture of Dorian Grey, not unlike the performative male and his egalitarian literature. BookTok, academia aesthetics, and celebrity “lit girls” have turned reading into a performative interest, where there are now such things as “Hot Girl Books” and cropped t-shirts that say “Reading is Sexy.” Instead of using books to craft a feminist persona like the performative male, young people utilize them to curate an aesthetic of intelligence and superiority. All to brag about being a bookworm among a sea of doom-scollers. All to be perceived as a person who reads. Lastly, that knit sweater that the Performative Male is hated for wearing? How is that any different from the cable knit sweater everyone trips over themselves to buy because it’s “Rory Gilmore coded?” It seems paradoxical that Gen Z would make fun of an archetype whose whole identity came from a Pinterest board, so perhaps the uproar against this trend is either a means of deflection and hypocrisy or evidence of ignorance.
To commemorate this absurd archetype, performative male lookalike contests have been held around the world, including in Seattle, New York City, and Jakarta, Indonesia. These contests host hundreds of young men holding records, matchas, and tote bags, and involve trivia contests. According to The New York Times, during a contest in Seattle, “One man was asked if he knew what a diva cup was; he did not. A different contestant was asked if he knew the year that women got the right to vote; he did not.” Performative males also made an appearance closer to home in the form of a Hamber grad spirit day, celebrating/mocking the trend. The halls were filled with people holding books — cover facing outward — and wearing wired headphones (R.I.P. to all the Starbucks matchas that were wasted).
One has to wonder why young people love dressing up as a character that so accurately symbolizes their falsehood. Are these events simply a kaleidoscope of curated personas all claiming authenticity? Maybe it's because dressing up as the performative male allows them to pretend that their “costumes” are different from their everyday facade.