There’s a new plague going around these days, perhaps not as detrimental as an actual disease, but culturally, I think it deserves a mention. The fear of being performative.
If you’ve been remotely online, or just overheard a conversation around campus, you’ve probably heard the phrase ‘That is so performative!’ thrown around.
Now technically, being performative means doing something for the sake of how it looks to other people rather than because you actually enjoy it. But recently, the word has been thrown around far more frivolously. Anyone doing anything remotely interesting, aesthetic, earnest or slightly outside the norm risks being accused of constructing a personality rather than simply having one.
Reading a classic book in public instead of being on your phone? Performative.
Wearing an outfit that looks too curated? Performative.
Listening to Billy Joel on wired headphones? Performative.
Ordering black coffee, saying something slightly philosophical, carrying around Patti Smith? Performative, performative, performative.
And the implication is always the same – you don’t really like any of those things, you just want other people to think you’re the kind of person that does.
When everything becomes a performance
Of course, sometimes people are performing. But unfortunately, the inconvenient truth is that we all are, at least a little.
So much of our lives are rooted in perception. How we see ourselves, how other people see us and perhaps the most fun of all – how we think we are being perceived by other people. We choose what to wear, what to post, what to say, what music to play when someone comes over. Even trying to look like you don’t care about how you come across is a performance.
The problem is that we have become so hyper-aware of this that we now assume there must be some hidden intention behind almost everything.
It’s now unfathomable to us that someone might actually like poetry, want to go on a hike, or spend an afternoon knitting instead of being on their phones. God forbid someone just wants to touch grass.
The problem is not being performative, it’s being perceived as performative.
This is where I think this fear actually stops you from living your life.
You want to sit on a bench around town and read a book, but all of a sudden you are imagining someone walking past and thinking you only brought the book because you want people to know you are the kind of girl who reads.
You want to wear wired headphones and listen to Billy Joel, but now you are wondering if it looks too deliberately retro.
You want to go to a gallery alone, dress up for no reason, start journalling, learn pottery, take film photos, order a black coffee or do literally anything that might suggest you have consciously constructed a personality.
So you do not.
And at some point, you stop asking yourself, “Do I want to do this?” and start asking, “What will it look like if I do?”
And slowly, your life gets edited down into whatever feels safest to be perceived doing.
Most interests begin as performative
Most interests begin because something catches your attention potentially because it looks cool and you decided to lean into it. You try things, you copy people you admire, you experiment with different versions of yourself. Some stick, some do not.
Maybe you start reading classics because you like the idea of being someone who reads classics, and then you find one you genuinely love. Maybe you dress differently because you’re trying out a different version of yourself and eventually it stops feeling like a version. Maybe you go to a gallery because it makes you feel interesting, and then somewhere along the way you realise you actually like art.
If you wait until every interest feels completely authentic, effortless and socially approved before acting on it, you will miss the part where interests actually become yours.
You are allowed to be visibly interested in your own life
On a larger scale, I think the fear of being performative also makes us incredibly boring individuals.
If anything remotely outside the norm gets labelled as try hard, the safest option is to just do what everyone else is doing. Dress similarly, listen to the same things, go to the same places, have the same opinion. Always at a safe distance from appearing invested in anything.
And that feels like a pretty bleak trade off just to avoid someone thinking you are trying too hard. There is no prize for making it through university looking completely unaffected by everything.
So read the book, wear the outfit, go to the gallery, order the coffee, learn the obscure hobby, care too much about something.
Someone might think you are being performative. They will survive.
And at least you will actually be living your life.