Performative Men Throughout History
Performative men. That latest buzzword sweeping the nation. The news would have you believe that these matcha drinking, bell hooks skimming, wired ear-bud wearing guys are a uniquely Gen-Z affliction. A counter-counter-counter culture assembled from the dregs of Book-Tok slop, wannabe commentary YouTubers, and guys who loved Socratic seminars a little too much in high school. Though there is truth to this, I'm here to tell you–as an official Harvard PhD holder in dontlookitupjusttrustme–that performative men are nothing new. They’ve existed since the literal dawn of time–the very first being the big bang itself. I mean, come on, you really need to do all that to create the universe?
Throughout the ages, we see the variations of the performative man in every era. Perhaps the first recorded human example can be seen in the Lasco cave paintings, in which a caveman with a mullet is depicted advocating for a “GATHERER-hunter” style society, but only to other cave women. Later examples include cuneiform inscriptions recounting Mesopotamian farmers babysitting their children so that their wives could have a chance at domesticating entire herds of cattle.
Plenty of notable historical figures were in fact, performative men. Galileo’s appeal to the Catholic Church includes an oft omitted addendum that all of the “girl planets” should have a week off of work for their periods. In Shakespeare's first draft of Hamlet, Ophelia is the world's first female millionaire (and her own boss). The Mona Lisa was originally crying, because Da Vinci claimed he would never tell a woman to smile.
Even the 20th century is not immune to the performative man. He was carrying a tote bag into the trenches. He listened to Janis Joplin before Woodstock. The keen eye can spot him in the background of photographs of the Stonewall riots. In between crowds of activists led by Sylivia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson stands a solitary straight man with painted nails and a pearl necklace. Historians know he's straight because he made it a whole thing to a nearby reporter who didn't ask.
So turns out our generation isn't that special after all. Thousands have come before us, and thousands will come after us. There are performative men everywhere with those with eyes to see. So buy that Clairo album, man. Break out that disposable camera. Take your typewriter to a coffee shop. It's what Shakespeare would have wanted.