You are picking a book to read, but before you even open it, you are already imagining how it will look on your shelf, which photo you’ll take of the cover, and what kind of person it will say you are. That’s the performance phenomenon making itself present in your life.
The consequences of this dynamic are far from superficial. When self-image becomes indistinguishable from self-promotion, the psychological damage becomes significant.
The pressure to appear interesting exceeds social media feeds and begins to permeate in our daily lives. People start filtering real experiences through the lens of their potential performative value: `”Would this make a good story?”, “Would anyone care?”. Moments that don’t meet this invisible standard are silently discarded. Today, there is a real fear that, without an audience, we might not truly exist.
What if your interests aren´t really yours at all?
“Life has always been a theater, and we are always performing” – that’s what Erving Goffman, author of The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, affirms. In his book, Goffman argues that, like actors, we try to control how we are perceived; he claims that everyday life is a continuous performance. He introduced the concepts of the “stage,” where we perform for others, and the “backstage,” where we relax and can be more authentic. Today’s reality isn’t very different from the last century, when the book was published; the only difference is that there is no longer a backstage, people now pay even more to see what happens behind the curtains.
Everything today is about performance. Even being yourself has become one, carefully shaped into a version that fits, aesthetically and seamlessly, into a grid. Platforms like TikTok intensify this dynamic: what appears authentic is often carefully constructed, rehearsed, and optimized for attention. Trends dictate not only what we post, but what we come to desire, from the books we read to the drinks we order. In this environment, authenticity is no longer the absence of performance, but simply a more convincing one.
The question is no longer who we are, but who we are trying to be seen as. It’s a performative authenticity, which is the most unauthentic thing possible.
Performance masked as interest
Are you really interested in this, or is everything you think you’re interested in actually the result of a desire to seem more interesting?
Sherry Turkle, MIT professor, spent decades studying how technology shapes identity. She argues that social media demands simplified ways of presenting ourselves, reducing us to a list of favorite things. And since lists summarize and simplify us, we crave new interests for one simple reason: to expand the list, to show that we possess more knowledge.
“Technology is the architect of our intimacies.”
Sherry Turkle
And if you’re wondering who’s in charge of this list, the answer is simple: the algorithm. Researchers call this the “algorithmized self”, the idea that our online identity isn’t built by us, but shaped by what the algorithm reinforces. If you engage with content about natural wines, TikTok delivers more natural wines to you, and you become “someone who likes natural wines.
Psychological impact
Anxiety has been a concern for many young people in Generation Z for some time now, and factors like “performance” contribute to the symptoms. You try to show every aspect of your life, every second of your life is carefully considered in terms of how people will react. Over time, this internal monitoring generates more anxiety, because there is no longer a clear boundary between living and performing.
When identity is shaped in comparison to others’ way of living, a persistent feeling of inadequacy emerges. There is always someone more interesting, more cultured, more aesthetically pleasing. In this environment, satisfaction becomes temporary, and self-worth becomes dependent on external validation. Even rest feels like it needs to be justified.
Enthusiasm is Enough
At this point, the question shifts: what if authenticity, in itself, were already enough? Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor argues, in his discussion of the so-called “ethics of authenticity,” that being true to oneself is not just an individual ideal, but a central moral value in contemporary societies. For him, true fulfillment lies in pursuing what you feel and believe rather than strengthening external expectations.
As explained, the internet has changed this dynamic somewhat, because now your authenticity needs to be validated by people online.Thus, personal interests are constantly shaped to become visible, shareable, and, above all, interesting. The problem isn’t being performative in this case, but rather its dependence on an external perspective. Living in accordance with one’s authenticity implies breaking with this mediation and accepting that a meaningful life does not need to be constantly displayed to be legitimate.
The pressure to be interesting slowly transforms identity into something to be exhibited rather than experienced, destroying authcenticity. If the book you like isn’t Instagrammable, you avoid saying you read it; if you just started a dance class and you’re still not good at it, you won’t tell anyone for fear of being judged. Perhaps the real question is not whether we are performing our lives, but why we have come to believe that life only holds value when it is seen.
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The article above was edited by Rafaela Mina.
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