If you spot a lineup of men sporting oversized pants held together by a shoelace, holding Sylvia Plath books and reciting Clairo lyrics, you’ve likely stumbled across the internet’s newest obsession: the “Performative Male Contest.”
In these contests, men compete to prove who’s best at adopting an inauthentic feminist persona. They show off their carefully curated “I <3 Women” shirts, their Trader Joe’s tote bags, and their best acoustic covers of The Smiths, all to win the title of most “woke” male. A crowd of women crowns the winner using applause, usually cheering loudest for the guy who makes them cringe the hardest.
In the quick viral videos, these events seem like self-aware jabs at the “good-guy” stereotype, but in person, they made me question whether men are mocking performative allyship or using it as ego fuel.
At first, I laughed when contestants dramatically monologued about missing RBG or theatrically boasted about giving massages “with no expectation in return.” As the event progressed, the performances felt misdirected toward the wrong audience. Contestants dapped each other up, looked to their friends for approval instead of the crowd, and lingered to flirt with the judges. “I support women” stopped being a value and became a bit for the boys to pick up more women.
My concern is that these contestants are rebranding performative feminism into a new form of flirtation, turning trends “for the girls” into bait for attracting attention. If validation is still coming from other men at an event supposedly for women, or if the ultimate goal for a competitor is to leave with women on both arms, who is the competition really for?
In the age of virality, feminism itself risks becoming content, and, when everything becomes content, it’s hard to tell who’s in on the joke and who just wants the views. I could argue that these clips bring attention to performative allyship in a new and digestible way, but I could also ask why we’re still putting men on viral pedestals for cosplaying the feminist agenda.
So, with all of this in mind, can women still enjoy these events? Absolutely. I’ll never pass up the chance to heckle men pretending to read The Bell Jar in a public park. We just need to remember that satire only works when the audience and the performers understand who the joke’s on. That way, we can properly crown the “Performative Male” title to those who truly understand the nuances of these competitions and are doing it for the girls, not just to get girls.
And if you’re unsure, ask him to quote Miss Plath from memory. That’s your tiebreaker.