If we are calling out ‘toxic masculinity’ as a society, then why do public responses to softer versions of masculinity shift between curiosity, irony and judgment? / Courtesy Unsplash
Young men are using irony, aesthetics, and vulnerability online to test new forms of masculinity, turning identity itself into performance.
By Jillian Sunderland
PhD candidate in Sociology
University of Toronto
Introduction
Across TikTok and university campuses, young men are rewriting what masculinity looks like today, sometimes with matcha lattes, Labubus, film cameras and thrifted tote bags.
At Toronto Metropolitan University, a “performative male” contest recently drew a sizeable crowd by poking fun at this new TikTok archetype of masculinity. The “performative man” is a new Gen Z term describing young men who deliberately craft a soft, sensitive, emotionally aware aesthetic, signalling the rejection of “toxic masculinity.”
At “performative male” contests, participants compete for laughs and for women’s attention by reciting poetry, showing off thrifted fashion or handing out feminine hygiene products to show they’re one of the “good” guys.
Similar events have been held from San Francisco to London, capturing a wider shift in how Gen Z navigates gender. Research shows that young men are experimenting with gender online, but audiences often respond with humour or skepticism.
This raises an important question: in a moment when “toxic masculinity” is being called out, why do public responses to softer versions of masculinity shift between curiosity, irony and judgment?
Why Gen Z Calls It “Performative”
Gen Z’s suspicions toward these men may be partially due to broader shifts in online culture.
As research on social media shows, younger users value authenticity as a sign of trust. If millennials perfected the “curated self” of filtered selfies and highlight reels, Gen Z has made a virtue of realness and spontaneity.
Studies of TikTok culture find that many users share and consume more emotionally “raw” content that push against the more filtered aesthetics of Instagram.
Against this backdrop, the “performative man” stands out because he looks like he’s trying too hard to be sincere. The matcha latte, the film camera, the tote bag — these are products, not values. Deep, thoughtful people, the logic goes, shouldn’t have to announce it by carrying around a Moleskine notebook and a copy of The Bell Jar.
But as philosopher Judith Butler explained, all gender is “performative” in that it’s made real through repeated actions. Sociologists Candace West and Don Zimmerman call this “doing gender” — the everyday work we do to communicate we’re “men” or “women.”
This framing helps explain why the “performative man” can appear insincere, not because he’s fake, but because gender is always performed and policed, destined to look awkward before it seems “natural.”
On this end, the mockery of “performative men” acts as a way of keeping men in the “man box” — the narrow confines of acceptable masculinity. Studies show that from school to work, people judge men more harshly than women when they step outside gender norms. In this way, the mockery sends a message to all men that there are limits to how they can express themselves.
When Progress Still Looks Like Privilege
However, many researchers caution that new masculine styles may still perpetuate male privilege.
In the post-#MeToo era, many men are rethinking what it means to be a man now that “toxic masculinity” has been critiqued. The calls for more “healthy masculinity” and positive male role models reveal a culture searching for new ways of being a man, yet also uncertain about what that would look like.
In this context, many public commentators argue these men are just rebranding themselves as self-aware, feminist-adjacent and “not like other guys” to seek better dating opportunities.
Sociologists Tristan Bridges and C.J. Pascoe would call this “hybrid masculinity” — a term that describes how privileged men consolidate status by adopting progressive or queer aesthetics to reap rewards and preserve their authority.
A 2022 content analysis of popular TikTok male creators found a similar pattern: many creators blurred gender boundaries through fashion and self-presentation yet reinforced norms of whiteness, muscularity and heterosexual desirability.
This echoes many critiques of “performative men”: they use the language of feminism and therapy without altering their approach to sharing space, attention or authority.
Can These Small Experiments Matter?
Yet as sociologist Francine Deutsch argues in her theory of “undoing gender,” change often begins with partial, imperfect acts. Studies show that copying and experimenting with gender are key ways people learn new gender roles.
On the surface, there’s nothing inherently harmful about men getting into journaling, vinyl records or latte art.
In fact, youth and anti-radicalization research suggests these could be practical tools in countering online radicalization and isolation, another issue affecting young men.
What Would Change Look Like?
The truth is we may not yet have the tools to recognize change, given that much of our world is created to be shared and consumed on social media, and male dominance seems hard to change.
A positive sign is that, rather than being defensive, many male creators are leaning into the joke and using parody as a way to explore what a more sensitive man might look like.
And perhaps the “performative male” trend holds up a mirror to our own contradictions. We demand authenticity but consume performance; we beg men to change but critique them when they try; we ask for vulnerability yet recoil when it looks too forced.
The “performative male” may look ironic, but he’s also experimenting with what it means to be a man today.
Whether that experiment leads to lasting change or just another online trend remains unclear, but it’s a glimpse of how masculinity is being rewritten, latte by latte.
Originally published by The Conversation, 11.19.2025, under the terms of a Creative Commons Attribution/No derivatives license.
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