Matcha Lattes and Masculinity
The performative male starterpack: wired headphones (playing Clairo, Lana Del Rey, or beabadoobee), iced matcha latte (that is ethically sourced), tote bag (extra points if there’s a Labubu), baggy jeans (thrifted), fitted blank T’s (or ones with a forgotten indie band’s logo), and a book (feminist literature, of course). We all know or have seen him, especially on campus. We may even be him; I’ve been called performative before.
While the performative male is a rising, lighthearted, and undoubtedly funny social media trend, he is not new. Before him, there were “posers” in the 90s and the “nice guy” trope in the late 2000s. All of which involve men performing or embracing feminine traits to attract women, whether it be displaying inward changes through a show of extreme emotional intelligence or outward changes through the wearing of excessive jewelry. In fact, the modern performative man started with celebrities like Harry Styles wearing skirts on the cover of Vogue and Jacob Elordi carrying purses and reading books while doing simple tasks like pumping gas. Not to say Harry Styles or Jacob Elordi were being performative, rather they set the tone for what he wants to achieve—an effortless, authentic, secure sense of self that isn’t afraid to show a more feminine side.
There’s nothing wrong with a man who wants to accessorize, drink matcha, or be educated in feminism. However, when that supposed authenticity becomes performative, it does make me reflect on heterosexual men’s treatment of marginalized groups, particularly the queer community, without facing any of their obstacles or backlash. In other words, as a gay man, I’ve been questioned for and gawked at by some of the very same things the performative man is praised for. All of a sudden, it’s cool to have earrings, wear a purse, collect cute trinkets, and wear baby T’s. When the queer community does these things, it’s a threat to gender norms, but when the performative man does it, it represents security, boldness, and confidence since their masculinity is already a given.
Although it may feel like the performative man is taking over our worlds, there also exists a different type of man: the hypermasculine alpha male. The Andrew Tate follower, “Fresh & Fit” podcast listener, and supporter of the “bring back manly men” movement. He focuses on traditional gender norms, escaping the scam that is college, practicing stoicism, eating eggs and steak for breakfast, and resorting to physical threats to assert dominance. While very different entities, both the performative male and the alpha male are portrayals of traits that the individual performing them believes will make them desirable. Following this trend of alpha males is the glorification of “trades,” or a gay man who is straight-passing with more masculine features. Almost as if we as a society crave a person who is both progressive but palatable. Someone who can challenge, but not threaten the status quo. For instance, Pedro Pascal who is masculine-presenting and has starred in strong male roles in shows like The Last of Us and The Mandalorian, but is beloved for his warmth, compassion during fan interactions, and style that relaxes masculinity.
While the performative man is a lighthearted social media trend, he also has the potential to reproduce the toxic mental effects of the alpha male persona, pressuring impressionable youth to be inauthentic and manipulate their partners through lovebombing and artificial emotional intelligence. Gender is inherently a performance that has been socially defined for decades. Boys have been taught to play with cars, and girls have been taught to play with dolls. Is the performative male breaking this script or just rewriting it? We all can benefit from reflecting on how we choose to define gender in the context of ourselves. Are we ready to redefine it in our own authentic way or are we placing one foot over the binary while keeping the other one in our comfort zone?