Snehashish roy
In a world still grappling with the damage caused by toxic masculinity, a curious new archetype is emerging, one that aims to rewrite what it means to be a man today. This archetype, often labeled the “performative male,” does not wear aggression or stoicism as badges of honour. Instead, he carries a tote, sips a matcha latte, reads feminist literature, listens to indie music, keeps a film camera hanging around his neck, or casually mentions therapy. On the surface, he seems to reject the traditional “man box.” Under the scrutiny of social media and memes, however, this new identity reveals deeper tensions, contradictions and perhaps a moment of reckoning for what gender can become.
At universities as far apart as Toronto and cities from San Francisco to London, the “performative male” has even become the subject of contests and campus jokes. Young men compete to out-soft “other guys,” reciting poetry or distributing tampons, showcasing thrifted outfits or spouting carefully crafted self-help slogans as a kind of badge of being “not like them.”
Why has this tendency spread so fast? Partly because a growing generation has begun to recognise the flaws of older models of masculinity, the unexamined toughness, emotional neglect, and aggression largely associated with “toxic masculinity.” In that sense, the performative male represents a tentative attempt at rewriting identity. But as cultural critics point out, often this rewrite is less about sincerity and more about signalling, an aestheticized identity meant to be consumed, liked, followed.
In social media culture, where visibility becomes currency and authenticity is both demanded and doubted, “performance” becomes a survival strategy. As one recent commentary puts it, gender itself has always been “performed.” What’s new is how visible and viral that performance has become.
That very visibility, however, has attracted scorn. To some observers the “performative male” looks like a parody, as if sensitivity, feminism, and emotional awareness have been reduced to props (matcha, tote, tampons) for romantic signalling. Critics argue that such men may be co-opting feminist language and aesthetics without committing to deeper change. They may cling to the surface of progressivism, but not its substance.
This tension, between desire for change and fear of inauthenticity, underscores a broader cultural anxiety. On one hand, the world is waking up to the harms of traditional macho norms: emotional repression, misogyny, violence, toxic power dynamics. On the other, men who attempt to shed these norms often find themselves trapped between labels: too “soft” to be taken seriously, too aesthetic to be considered real. The “performative male” becomes a litmus test of sincerity: Is he changing, or just “performing change”?
Perhaps the most revealing implication of this trend is not the individual aesthetic choices, it’s what it says about masculinity as a concept: that masculinity can no longer rely on muscle, silence, dominance, or unquestioned authority. It must be negotiated, questioned, reworked. It must adapt. In an age of feminist critique and social media exposure, masculinity is no longer fixed.
And that may be a vital transformation. If young men learn to treat empathy, sensitivity, vulnerability as valid forms of strength, even if initially awkward or inconsistent, they may redefine gender roles for their generation. As some sociologists argue, even imperfect experiments in gender expression can help dismantle oppressive norms.
Still, this transformation is fraught with pitfalls. If “softness” becomes just another aesthetic in a marketplace of identities, it risks being commodified, part of a “brand” rather than a genuine rethinking of values. The pressures of performance, visibility, and validation may even increase mental health stress for young men, caught between the old expectations and new demands.
But maybe that tension, between performance and sincerity, is the point. Perhaps identity, especially gender identity, has never been static. Perhaps masculinity has always been a script to perform, one that can be rewritten, reframed, reimagined. The “performative male” may seem ironic or shallow. He may get mocked or misunderstood. But he is also part of an experiment, a small but growing attempt to break away from inherited norms and offer a different kind of possibility.
If nothing else, the rise of the “performative male” forces us to ask a deeper question: in a changing world, what does it truly mean to be a man? And who gets to decide?