I’m sure by now most of us have heard the term “performative male.” On the rare occasion that you haven’t, a performative male is a tote-bag-wearing, matcha-drinking, feminist-literature-reading man who does all of those typically feminine things solely for approval from women.
Of course, those aren’t the only traits of a performative man, but they’re usually pretty big indicators. The internet took this meme and ran with it, even creating contests to see who could be the most performative (which, performing as performative might be performative-ception).
Even though the meme is seemingly harmless, many men were apparently offended and began trying to turn the tables by inventing the idea of a “performative female.” The traits of this archetype included things like liking football, playing Fortnite, and listening to rap—wait, why is this starting to sound like me?! Am I a performative female?!
Okay, but in all seriousness, this trend genuinely worried me. It made me question whether all the less feminine things about me were just something my internalized misogyny had conjured up to appeal to boys.
A few months ago, I was on the second floor of Falconio, which, if you don’t know, is a boys’ floor. The Lego Batman Movie was playing, and unable to hold back my excitement, I proudly exclaimed that it was my favorite movie.
I wasn’t lying in that moment. It has been my favorite movie for years. At sleepovers, I’ve made my friends put it on multiple times. It’s even in my top four movies on Letterboxd. Of course it is—it’s my favorite movie.
So why did it feel like I was lying?
Something about declaring that a movie typically liked by boys or men was my favorite, while surrounded by its target audience, made me feel wrong.
Is The Lego Batman Movie really my favorite movie? Do I genuinely find it the peak of comedy, or did I convince myself it was because it sounded like an interesting answer if a boy ever asked? Do I ride for the Buffalo Bills because it’s my family’s favorite team and has become mine over the years, or do I just want to like football because men do? Do I play Fortnite just in case a boy ever wants to play with me?
These thoughts raced through my head. The last thing I ever wanted was to cater to men, and suddenly it felt like important parts of what made me me existed accidentally for their pleasure.
I wanted to be sick.
I thought about this for weeks, cursing myself for letting it happen. But the more I thought about it, the more certain I became that I genuinely enjoyed these things. Sitting with it even longer, I realized that maybe the misogyny wasn’t coming from inside of me; it was coming from the idea of a “performative female” itself.
I know it might seem like a double standard to laugh at the performative male joke while calling the performative female one offensive, but let me explain my thinking. Many misogynistic ideas are built on the assumption that women exist to cater to men, so when a woman’s interests aren’t exactly feminine, they’re all of a sudden suspect. Performative men, on the other hand, often use, and even benefit from, progressive ideals, like disbanding toxic masculinity, as a prop to gain social/romantic approval. It’s a completely different game.
The reactions to these two groups make that difference clear: performative females are scrutinized and labeled “pick-me’s,” while their male counterparts are usually laughed off. My interests are not inherently suspicious just because they aren’t traditionally feminine. The “performative female” isn’t a clever gotcha moment. It’s a reminder of how often women are doubted in ways men aren’t.
Misogyny tells women that whatever we do must be calculated or intentional, and the most disappointing part is that it worked so well that it made me doubt the truest of true things about myself.