In Defense of the Performative Male Reader

The term “performative” has seen a significant uptick in the Western zeitgeist, popularized on every social media platform with an algorithm. The expression of one’s identity has become intertwined with readily recognizable aesthetic choices to externalize one’s tastes and sensibilities. We are not new to subculture, but subculture is new to Gen Z.

Within this highly visual webscape, a new monster has been born. He has risen out of the steamy condensation of an espresso machine—he is tall, dark, handsome, and (allegedly) in touch with his feminine side. He might have a trendy haircut, don deadstock jeans, and/or parrot terms like “opps” or “highkey.” He loves the Criterion Closet, dreams of renting an apartment in Bushwick, and proudly displays a chunky ring on every other finger.

And then—it happens. Out of his beat-up canvas tote bag, he pulls out (gasp) a book. But not just any book. A book that was written… by a woman! A book filled with feminist ideas. With implicit or explicit queer themes. With, perhaps most frightening of all, flawed female protagonists. Armed with the ultimate seduction technique, they park on benches, lounge in cafe patios, and slyly gaze around bookstores, just waiting for the right moment to strike. 

I’ve met this man, and I’d wager that you have too. Perhaps you’ve survived a situationship with one, realizing his “soft boy” persona is just, well… a persona. While plenty of men have, and do, falsely present themselves, there is an aspect of the discussion that has been largely eschewed. 

The notion of reading as performance is an intriguing one. The idea itself is indicative of the chronically online times we are living in. But the idea of reading as performance is not a new one. The acquisition of literature, and the participation of reading itself, has been a reflection of one’s socioeconomic status throughout much of human history. To be educated was to be privileged, and this largely remains true today. 

According to research conducted between 2024 and 2025 from the National Center for Education Statistics, “54% of adults read below the equivalent of a sixth-grade level.” If one were to dig into the minutiae of why this is, I’m confident that social equity lies at the heart of this issue. Intellectualism, and the culture stemming from it, has had a long history of exclusionary practices, largely helmed by wealthy men. In the wake of these dire findings, the necessity to encourage literacy among all Americans, regardless of gender, is ever-important. To police any type of reading participation is to contribute to its decline. To dismiss male engagement is to cordon off a space that should aim to offer inclusivity and accessibility. 

Much of the literary community has found a home online as well—BookTok and Bookstagram have had a tangible effect on brick-and-mortar bookstores at large, arguably rescuing an industry under severe threat from online big box competitors. Some male readers, who may have a genuine interest in being a part of these communities, have been excluded from these spaces on the basis of generalization. Though we proclaim at large that we are craving authenticity, we inadvertently siphon off sincerity. 

Conversely, men who do not read are equally criticized. Assumptions are made about their capabilities as students, partners, employees, and fathers. However, because plenty of these men, too, have a “For You Page,” they are privy to the condemnation of the performative male reader. One could stand to reason that this label isn’t particularly encouraging them to chill out by a pond with a matcha and a copy of Pride and Prejudice anytime soon. 

But we must consider that, though we grimace at the performative male reader’s attempt to acquire external validation, what was once external can transform into a true interest. While the motivation may have initially materialized from a synthetic place, it does not necessarily diminish the outcome. The potentiality of an expanded literary culture that benefits authors, publishers, and booksellers, while encouraging American literacy and heartening their non-reader male peers, is worth so much more than a meme hinging on a stereotype. 

While yes, there is certainly room to critique performance for performance’s sake, if we desire sensitive, curious men in our society who choose to read, we must, in part, acquiesce to it. We must allow a bit of performance to make space for the genuine.  

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