NOTICE: Nothing in this post concerns DJ B.
I’m at my day-job right now. I’m trying to do my work, but I can’t focus as this matter weighs on my mind.
Question 1: What does it mean to be a performative man?
This conversation has been taking place on-and-off-line for a couple months now. It has circled back and over itself. It has been meme’d and re-meme’d and post-meme’d into oblivion. The conversation (in my opinion) has become shallow and meaningless.
Example of the “Performative Man” online discourse:
Hater: Boy wear hip-outfit= inauthentic behavior.
Advocate: Let boy wear outfit, you are not the authenticity police.
Hater: Boy hold bell hooks but boy no read.
Advocate: Boy reading comprehension is none of your business. Boy comprehend some. Leave boy alone.
Ironically, the conversation about what is-and-is-not performative has become almost purely concerned with the authenticity of our aesthetic expression. Meanwhile, we seem to have forgotten that, at one point, this was a conversation about performative-male-feminism, which actually has nothing to do with the kinds of jeans you wear, and it doesn’t really have to do with the books you read either. Performative-male-feminism is the result of educating men on what it means to be a feminist, but not giving men the emotional tools to use (or to want to use) feminism in their real-lives. The performative-male-feminist knows the talking points (like consent and respect) that will gain him points with the women in his life, but is incapable or uninterested in actually putting the talking points into action.
What is the difference between being performative and being ignorant?
What is the difference between purposefully telling a joke and getting laughed at for accidentally saying “cum”?
A performance is thought out and calculated while ignorance (unless willful) is generally accidental. Therefore, you can dress like a twink, you can try to read theory, you can listen to Clairo, and unless you are actively doing these things so that women will trust you— you can rest assured that you are not being performative.
This seems to be the general consensus online, right?
Let people do what they like, stop trying to over analyze peoples’ hobbies. Let people enjoy things.
Yes, I agree, I think these are generally true and non-problematic takes, which is probably why it’s such an easy conclusion for all of us to come to, but it ignores the actual heart of the issue: What about the men who are predatory? What about the men who do successfully perform feminism because they do know the intricacies and they do weaponize that knowledge to hurt the people in their lives? What about the men who build strong reputations with women because they know the right thing to say– only to victimize those who have grown to trust them? What about the performative men who are doing the things we originally accused them of?
I think we’ve “not-all-men”-ed ourselves into a corner, again.
I’m going to tell you a little bit more about myself than I have in the past.
I met my co-collaborator when we were both in 10th grade; we were in the Algebra 2 class. As soon as we started talking, we were fast friends. Not many people had, or have since, understood me on a creative level the way he did and the way he still does.
Most of our conversations circled around projects and skits we had unrealistic visions for, but we were committed to the bit. We created bands and blogs and videos for our own enjoyment. We didn’t care who else saw as much as we wanted to make each other laugh.
Eventually, we brought a third friend into our semi-secret creative collective and we dubbed ourselves “Mr. J” (after our 3 combined initials). We moved our goal posts out further: we wanted to produce movies and videogames and concept albums. We tried and failed and kept trying, and it was pure and beautiful.
We were incredibly close, the three of us, and incredibly unorthodox too. We would have sleepovers after burning the midnight oil and we would all three sleep in one bed.
At least one time, at one of these sleepovers, when we were all three in bed, my co-collaborator took my hand and pressed my fingers to his lips. He was whispering something. Maybe he was asleep. Maybe he thought I was asleep. Either way, I never said anything about it to anyone for years.
Bottlerag.org
When I started talking about br.o last year, my co-collaborator latched on to the idea immediately. It seemed only natural, just even, that we would work together, given our history and shared talents. Bottlerag.org was always meant to be a team effort, a shared project.
Since then, I regret to say, our team, the friendship and the working relationship between my co-collaborator and myself, has disintegrated.
Question 2: What else have I ignored?
I told you about him kissing my fingers. I told you I didn’t say anything about it.
- I didn’t mention it because it was weird.
- I didn’t mention it because I was 16 and I didn’t understand it.
- I didn’t mention it because it didn’t seem like a big deal.
- I didn’t mention it because we were friends and I wanted us to keep being friends.
I’m not proud to say it, but there are other things, worse things, I have ignored besides this.
In October of 2017, eight years ago, my co-collaborator and I were both seniors in high school. I was 17 and he was 18. He was essentially dating my best friend at the time (and because we were in high school that “essentially” was important) and he essentially cheated on her with a 14-year-old at the movies.
Neither my best friend nor I knew the extent of what had happened between him and the young girl until years later, but I remember how angry and disgusted I was even then. I was angry and disgusted that he would even think about touching someone middle-school-aged and I remember being sad that he’d hurt my friend.
But we all forgot about it.
He and that same friend dated for nearly three years after that. When they broke up in 2020, I maintained separate friendships with both of them, even while I watched him harass her online (writing blog posts using her full name, talking about her piercings and intimate parts of her body, discussing her new partners).
A year or so after they broke up, my best friend detailed to me how he assaulted her in her sleep while they were together. She told me this at least two years ago, and she has brought it up sense, and I hate myself, because I’ve let this slide for years as well.
Question 3: Where then, after all of this, am I now deciding to draw the line?
I’ve been performative too. I’ve been performing for years, I’ve been excusing bad behavior in the interest of maintaining a friendship and a partnership with my co-collaborator. It’s been too long, but finally, I am drawing the line somewhere.
Earlier this month, my co-collaborator shared with my boyfriend and me that there was an 18-year-old at his work who had a crush on him. At this point, I am 25 and my co-collaborator is 26. He talked about his other co-worker, also 26, who tried to facilitate a conversation between him and the teenager. He told my boyfriend and me about how uncomfortable the situation made him and how inappropriate it felt for his peer to try and set him up with someone so much younger than both of them.
I will take this opportunity to point out that Cody Ko was 24 then 25 when he assaulted Tana Mongue who was 16 and then 17.
On Thursday, October 23, my co-collaborator asked to borrow my car (because he doesn’t have a car) to go on a date. Before he left, he revealed with joviality that he planned to take the aforementioned 18 year old out on said date.
I’ve never openly-discussed my day in detail on this website, but it’s relevant now. I am a high school teacher. On Thursday, October 23, I was just home from senior night at my school. Every day, I see and interact with 18, even 19-year-olds, so I can tell you with absolute certainty that they are children. They are children who can legally vote, they are children who can legally work full-time and join the military, and yes, they are children you can (legally) fuck.
I know this. He knows it too.
I know he knows it, because I listened to him explain why it was unethical first-hand. He explained not only why it would be unethical for him to engage with the teenager on that level, but also why it was unethical for anyone else our age to act as an accessory to the situation. I witnessed him process all of this on an intellectual level.
So you can imagine my surprise when he announced that not only was he (a man closer-to-30-than-20) was going to meet the teenager in a romantic setting, but he was also planning to make me an accessory by using my car to do it.
I said “No”.
He laughed in my face.
I told him he couldn’t use my car.
He laughed in my face again and asked our other friend (the J of Mr. J if you care) if he could use his car instead.
Our other friend said “Yes”. Then they both laughed in my face.
After all this time, it was finally starting to dawn on me. This person– these people– were not friends to me. These people were not good or worthy of my protection. There is no and there was never any “Mr. J” to speak of.
Still, I begged him not to go. I explained all the reasons the date was unethical, immoral, and disgusting (a waste of both of our time because we both knew that he already knew). He ridiculed me. He made fun of me. I told him that if he made the decision he was about to make, it would permanently change things for us. He said “fuck you,” and then he went to take a teenager out on a date.
I’m done protecting him.
I listened to him explain to me why spending time with an 18-year-old in that context is inappropriate, then I listened to him play videogames with that teenager for hours every night that week between visits with his other paramours. I listened to him try to rationalize the situation to me after he decided that the attention of a teenager was more important to him than his integrity or his “friends”.
I’m done protecting him.
Final Points:
Performative men are real. I’ve been making excuses for one for over a decade.
It’s not just the men either. Anyone can be a performative feminist. I sure have been. I’ve made excuses and I’ve been willfully ignorant. I’ve put my other friendships at risk in the interest of protecting one sad person.
It’s not like I’ve gained anything from this. I’ve gotten nothing but guilt and shame from this relationship. He hasn’t been nice to me or been a good friend to me, but maybe I thought that eventually he would be if I was just loyal enough. Maybe I am just another woman hungry for male-valedation. Maybe I’m exactly what I hate. But at least I’m changing it now, and I can’t go back.
I imagine he isn’t the only friend I will lose after I hit post on this piece. People may feel I’m being dramatic and inappropriate with this information (though I imagine this reaction will come primarily from our other shared-male-friends). To those who feel inclined to call me a poor sport or whatever, I hear you, and I invite you to cut-me-off, because I am probably not interested in maintaining a relationship with you either. If you are reading this and you are hurt or confused because this is information you are receiving for the first time and you don’t know how to take it. That’s natural, I’m sorry I’m the one who gave it to you.
I also want to personally apologize to anyone else my co-collaborator has victimized through his words and actions, especially my best friend, whose truth I have willfully ignored, and the once-14-year-old he cheated on her with, all those years ago. I promise to make it my mission to choose better friends and hold them to the same standards I would hold anyone else to.
To the bottlerag.org listeners and readers. My radio shows will be postponed for the foreseeable future, I will provide an update soon. Thank you for your patience.
Sincerely,
Milkweed
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