Labubus, matcha lattes, feminist literature and so on. All under the umbrella of “performative culture”. For anyone who has managed to duck the skits all over Gen Z’s for-you pages, a “performative person” can be best defined as a person who displays/flaunts their (surface-level) interests to attract attention from the opposite gender. And, with the harmless, tote bag swinging archetype of “the performative male” featured in everything from mainstream articles to in-person contests revolving around who can best embody the character, it is important to remember that there is a more serious side to the trend.
Though fun and harmless at times, performative culture as a whole contributes to the ever-growing problem of overconsumption. Random chance toy boxes containing all manner of collectables, or blind boxes, have become increasingly popular among Gen Z. Along with the wave is the newest pillar of fashion, the Labubu. Popularly worn attached by a clip or chain and made trendy by celebrity culture, Labubu plushies have jokingly been labelled the identifiers of a performative person: it is assumed that people only wear them as a conversation starter for others who are actually interested in the dolls, “bait” in a sense.
Either way, Labubus and other collectables have become must-have trend items. And with blind box sales as a whole projected by Dataintelo to increase by 6.2 billion USD by 2032, the demand for items such as the Labubu is far from over. These accessories are perfectly fine in small purchases, but become another contributor to waste once they have overstayed their welcome, with their market moving onto a newer, shinier object. Whether it be purchasing six to seven Labubu collectables, all for a quick social media post, or other trendy items for the sake of appearances, a lack of sincerity towards the items one interacts with will most likely result in piles of discarded items—pollution.
Performative culture is truly a product of social media as a whole, with Just Jake from the Medium defining it as a culture that “worries more about the impressions rather than the results.” With shock value and engagement at the forefront of online culture, there is a larger discussion to be had about the need to “perform” for social media. However, on a smaller scale, it influences regular individuals, especially teens, to purchase items that they will never use.
The “performative male” was originally ridiculed not for his dress but for his ignorance. It is a running joke that performative men portray themselves as feminists and openly progressive when in reality they barely understand or practice what they preach – this false activism is certainly an issue. When performative people’s voices are heard above the experts and marginalized members of the community, it takes away from the legitimacy of the movement and casts away attention from the issues it tries to address.
With all that said, how bad could performativity be if, at the end of the day, we are all “performative” to a certain extent? From how we dress to the way we interact with others, we are all “performing” to be accepted by our peers. There is also merit to the argument that we should not assume inauthenticity just because of their appearance. Yet there is a difference between social interactions and being disingenuous to oneself.
As online discourse rapidly shifts, teens and young adults can only really decide how they themselves absorb that information. The performative male is really just a foil to the “traditional” hypermasculine male and is the least worrying product of performative culture. It is (unsurprisingly) again the age-old issue of social media and how it affects our self-image.
WCHS students and high school students in general need to understand that trends will pass and not unnecessarily hyperfocus on how others perceive them. As long as you are aware of yourself and are well-informed, you can plug your corded earbuds back in and continue reading “The Feminine Mystique”.
