Social media killed the possibility of being yourself online. Not because people are liars or fakes, but because the medium itself demands performance.
You select a profile photo. You write a bio. You choose which parts of your life to share and which to hide. Each decision requires thought that face-to-face interaction never demanded. The internet created a version of yourself that exists separately from you, one that needs constant management and editing.
This digital self gets measured. Likes, comments, shares, followers. You know exactly where you stand. The feedback arrives immediately and you respond to it, whether you admit this or not. You adjust what you post based on what worked before. You notice what gets ignored and post less of that. The system trains you to perform better.
The accusation of being performative spreads across platforms now. Like a certain band? You're performing. Read a certain book? Performance. Carry a specific tote bag? Performance. Write on a particular platform? Performance. The internet hunts for phonies with the same energy previous generations used different words: poser, hipster, pretentious, fake.
But calling someone performative misses the point entirely. Everyone online performs. You perform when you post a photo. You perform when you choose not to post a photo. You perform when you write a comment. You perform when you delete a comment before posting it. The performance never stops because being online means presenting yourself for an audience.
Think about the mechanics. You craft your online presence through thousands of small choices. Which photo shows you at your best? Which caption sounds clever but not trying too hard? Which opinion will your followers agree with? Which response makes you look smart? The questions multiply with every interaction.
You also watch how others perform. You see what they post, how they present themselves, what gets them attention. You compare. You measure your performance against theirs. You adjust accordingly. The platform wants this. The whole structure depends on people competing for visibility.
The word performative itself functions as a performance. A specific type of person uses it online. The word signals something about them. They've seen others use it and adopted it to fit in with a certain group. If the criticism came from genuine observation, you would see equal use of phony, fake, pretentious. But you don't. Performative dominates because it's the current style, the accepted term within certain online spaces.
No one chose this life. The world shifted and being online became mandatory. Not having to curate yourself turned into a luxury most people don't have. Work happens online. Friendships happen online. Dating happens online. Culture happens online. You participate or you disappear.
The constant self-examination required by online life has no historical precedent. Previous generations didn't spend hours considering how they appeared to hundreds or thousands of people simultaneously. They didn't receive real-time feedback on their appearance, thoughts, and choices. They didn't watch everyone else receive that same feedback and adjust their behavior accordingly.
This awareness creates a specific type of mental strain. You think about yourself in relation to others constantly. You monitor your digital self like a separate entity that needs protection and improvement. You notice gaps between who you are and who you appear to be online. The distance between these versions grows.
Some people hide this performance better than others. They appear authentic, natural, effortless. But that appearance also requires work. Looking like you're not trying takes effort. Seeming genuine demands calculation. The best performers make their performance invisible.
The obsession with authenticity online makes sense. People want to trust what they see. They want to believe the person on screen matches the person behind it. But the structure of social media makes this impossible. Every platform turns life into content. Every moment becomes something to capture, edit, and share. The performance starts before you post anything.
You exist in a hall of mirrors online. Everyone watches everyone. Everyone judges everyone. Everyone knows they're being watched and judged. The feedback loop never ends. You hear opinions whether you want them or not. You adjust based on those opinions whether you admit it or not.
Maybe everyone online is phony. Maybe that's acceptable. The alternative is opting out entirely, which fewer people do successfully. Being online means performing. Understanding this doesn't fix the problem but at least names it correctly. The issue isn't that some people perform while others stay authentic. Everyone performs. Some just do it better.
Jade Nichole
Based in Berlin, I work as a fashion marketer and archivist, crafting thoughtful words and strategic narratives for screens, social feeds, and cultural moments. I have a passion for uncovering niche trends, internet nostalgia, and those unexpected sparks of creativity that often come at 3AM.
@jadedjuniper