Put the matcha down! The problem with the ‘performative male’

The ‘performative male’ has become one of the most prominent internet trends of 2025, but it might not be as harmless as it seems. It’s time we truly worked out what makes a performative male tick.

Firstly, let’s establish what exactly a ‘performative male’ is. The idea began in response to simultaneous viral trends: this summer’s matcha craze, the growing popularity of indie-pop artist Clairo, and an increase in men reading (or pretending to read) feminist literature. Other micro-trends have also contributed to the performative persona, from a resurgence in the use of retro wired earphones and tote bags, to the viral obsession with ‘Labubu’ toys.

Despite seeming harmless, this trend could pose a genuine threat to Gen Z culture; the ‘performative male’ is the new enemy of individuality

Then there’s the clothing. The performative male is easy to spot. Baggy trousers, tight t-shirts, cropped sweaters, and loose-fitting jackets form their core wardrobe. As Mahalia Chang writes in GQ, “It is a fit designed to tick, methodically, each box of perceived female desire.”

Despite seeming harmless, this trend could pose a genuine threat to Gen Z culture; the ‘performative male’ is the new enemy of individuality. Yes, it is possible to encounter a man who genuinely has one or a few of these interests. A man can listen to Clairo. He can drink matcha. He can even like feminist literature. However, a man who adopts every element of the ‘performative male’ archetype becomes instantly inauthentic.

When he decides to leave the house in loafers, with a tote bag, Laufey blasting through his wired earphones, and the sole intention of impressing the women he passes, a man with hobbies becomes a man with no real personality. It is this layering of microtrends which turns him into a parody.

He will spout surface-level feminist rhetoric and may even carry tampons in his tote bag, just in case he needs to save the day, but he is rarely a feminist

This poses a new question: A parody of what, exactly?

A parody of everything that the heterosexual man is not. Primarily, the intention of the ‘performative male’ is to appeal to the ‘progressive female’. He will spout surface-level feminist rhetoric and may even carry tampons in his tote bag, just in case he needs to save the day, but he is rarely a feminist. He is more accurately labelled as an anti-misogynist. He exists as the only alternative to what New York Times writers Alisha Haridasani Gupta and Nicole Stock call “the toxic man.”

With a rise in casual conservatism making Gen Z men increasingly anti-feminist, perhaps the ‘performative male’ arrived this year as a perfect escape for those men who refused to conform to a culture of hatred. By virtue-signalling to women through fashion, books, and pop culture, they make it clear that they are a safe option. The core message they aim to exude is: “Choose me, I’m a good guy.”

Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Lydia Spencer-Elliott reflects in the Independent on how “we find it instinctively unfathomable that a straight man could want to read fiction”. She’s right to highlight this, because men shouldn’t be discouraged from reading. Really, they should be reading more; it’s just all about motivation. Sitting outside a café with a Joan Didion book isn’t really interesting; it’s cynical, and it’s motivated by one thing: attracting women.

It quickly becomes obvious that the contest encourages a caricaturised version of the performative male, and that the participants are in on the joke

So, can this be attractive? Is there such a thing as a good performative male?

In October, Warwick found out. Through a collaboration between the ABACUS and Piano societies, the campus had its own “performative male contest”. Contestants were encouraged to bring a matcha latte, defend their music tastes, and discuss feminist literature, all before a judging audience. Videos on TikTok show a line of contestants in the piazza, each sporting almost identical tote bags.

In a contest like this, the true nature of the performative male is exposed. It quickly becomes obvious that the contest encourages a caricaturised version of the performative male, and that the participants are in on the joke. And yet, it’s still a humiliation ritual, shouting out: ‘Look how self-deprecating I can be!’ These light-hearted events, which have taken place on university campuses across the world, reveal just how desperate Gen Z men are to be validated, but also how the ‘performative male’ persona will never be taken seriously by women.

There is a lesson to be learned here: The Gen Z man needs to pursue genuine authenticity, stop listening to what TikTok tells him is attractive, read books that actually interest him, listen to music that moves him, and stop wasting money on matcha he definitely doesn’t like!