“Performative male” is a weird term. The mental image of one may or may not include a matcha latte, baggy jeans and a surface-level respect for women, but the truth of the matter is something far worse: everyone is performative. Every single reader whose eyes pass over this sentence has been a “performative male” for someone or some group and acted or dressed or performed in ways that are inauthentic to themself. Would it be fair to say that those people are just as ingenuine as the people who we label as “performative?”
Everyone puts on a different face at work, acts a certain way in class and wears their clothes a little differently than everyone else, and that, we think, is what sets us apart. In pursuit of finding your identity as a human, we tend to put on performances — mostly for ourselves, but mostly to other people.
Most of the time, we embrace the difference between ourselves and the general population. Sometimes we post on Instagram about our trip to Austin, Texas, sometimes we note how we’re probably the only people in the class with any style, sometimes we try a little harder with our outfits to get that person in class to notice us — all of these are performances to make us look a certain way.
We try to look desirable and mysterious, or we try to look athletic and strong, or we try to show off our cool sweaters or our new highlights. It’s just human nature to want to be seen as anything but ourselves — we see ourselves as “weak” or “uncool” or “cringe,” but in reality, we are just human. Those who might try to deny it or say they aren’t doing any of the above are performing just as much in their own way.
The idea that humans are born performers has been around for centuries. In fact, there’s an ancient phrase in Japanese that perfectly describes the point: “You have three masks: The first is the one you show to the world, the second that you reserve for your friends and family, and a third mask that is never shown to the outside world- the truest reflection of who you are.”
This phrase is to say that perhaps we are always performing. We are always doing our best to appear one way or another. In a way, we never stop performing. Even our third mask, the truest reflection of ourselves, is still a mask, and not our true face. This brings with it even more philosophical questions: What is a true identity? Who are we, if not actors in a great script written by a mad director? Does this man actually enjoy Labubus and matcha or is there something more to it? What about that girl who really loves South Park? Why does anyone do anything? This, dear readers, is where you come in: define yourself by our terms, experiment, see who you really are.
In the words of Tyler, the Creator:
I hope you take your mask off.
