Performative, Apparently

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Indian men have a fascinating hobby.
They accuse other men of being performative the moment those men treat women like human beings.

Not revolutionaries.
Not radicals.
Not men dismantling patriarchy brick by brick.

Just men doing the basics.

Holding the door without announcing it like a favour.
Listening instead of interrupting.
Calling out a sexist joke instead of laughing along.
Believing a woman the first time she says she’s uncomfortable.
Respecting a boundary without asking her to justify it.

Immediately, the commentary begins from men, of course.

“Bro is doing it for female validation.”
“Pick-me behaviour.”
“Too woke.”
“Performative feminism.”

Because in India, basic respect apparently needs a motive. And if that motive isn’t dominance, control, or entitlement, then it must be deception.

Respect, when visible, is suspicious.
Decency, when public, is fake.
Silence, however, is considered authenticity.

This tells us far more about the audience than the act itself.

Respect Is Only ‘Performative’ When It’s Witnessed

What Indian masculinity finds most threatening isn’t feminism — it’s contrast.

A man who listens quietly in a room full of men doesn’t announce anyone else’s failure. He doesn’t accuse. He doesn’t preach. He simply exists as an alternative. And that is enough to make other men uncomfortable.

Because suddenly, behaviour is no longer neutral.
It’s comparative.

When one man lowers his voice, another hears how loud his own has always been.
When one man steps back, another realises how much space he’s been taking.
When one man intervenes, another remembers every time he chose not to.

Calling it performative is easier than confronting that discomfort.

It reframes the moment.
It restores hierarchy.
It reassures the speaker: I’m not worse, he’s just pretending.

And that reassurance matters deeply in a culture where masculinity is fragile and constantly policed by men themselves.

The Irony of ‘Women Are Women’s Worst Enemies’

There is a particular irony that deserves attention.

The same men who loudly claim “women are women’s worst enemies” often become strangely invested in protecting women from fake male allies.

Suddenly, they care deeply about authenticity.
Suddenly, they are worried about manipulation.
Suddenly, they are experts on what feminism should or shouldn’t look like.

It’s almost touching.

One wonders where this concern disappears when women are interrupted mid-sentence.
When they are spoken over in meetings.
When their boundaries are negotiated instead of accepted.
When they are underpaid, overworked, and told to be grateful.
When harassment is dismissed as misunderstanding.
When violence is explained away as provocation.
When the word adjust is offered like wisdom.

In those moments, authenticity rarely seems to matter.

But let a man respect a woman in public — and suddenly, there is panic. Suddenly, there is scrutiny. Suddenly, intentions must be dissected.

Not because women are at risk.
But because the hierarchy is.

How Men Police Men (And Call It Honesty)

Indian society loves to talk about how women tear each other down. Entire narratives are built around it. Films. Talk shows. Family gossip. Social media discourse.

What we talk about far less is how aggressively men discourage other men from doing better.

The ridicule is subtle but effective.
Mockery instead of confrontation.
Sarcasm instead of reflection.

“Why are you simping?”
“Trying to impress?”
“Why are you acting different around women?”

Difference itself becomes suspicious.

And so men learn early:
Don’t stand out.
Don’t intervene.
Don’t be seen caring.
Don’t break the script.

Because stepping outside the performance of masculinity is far more dangerous than performing it badly.

Why Performance Isn’t the Enemy

Let’s say it plainly.

Yes — some men are performative.

Some say the right things without understanding them.
Some behave better in public than in private.
Some haven’t done the internal work.
Some are still learning.
Some are still unlearning.

So what?

Social change has never begun with pure intentions. It has begun with pressure, surveillance, and consequences. Hearts follow habits — not the other way around.

We wear seatbelts before we believe in safety.
We follow laws before we internalise justice.
We use respectful language before we interrogate our biases.

Performance precedes transformation.

In a country where entitlement is taught as birthright,where boys are excused, protected, and prioritised —

even performance disrupts the script.

It creates visible standards.
It shifts what is acceptable in public.
It makes sexism awkward again.
It forces hesitation where there was once ease.

And hesitation matters.

Public Behaviour Is Not Trivial

Those who dismiss performative respect underestimate the power of public behaviour.

A man calling out a sexist joke doesn’t just correct the speaker.
He signals to the room.
He draws a line.
He changes the temperature.

Other men notice.
Women notice.
Silence becomes less comfortable.

And in societies like ours, where private beliefs are rarely accessible, public behaviour is often all women have to go on.

We do not have the luxury of waiting for moral purity.

We need safety now.
Dignity now.
Boundaries now.

If a man’s performance contributes to that,even imperfectly — it matters.

The Myth of the ‘Real’ Man

There is a strange pride attached to being “real.”

“I’m not pretending.”
“I say it as it is.”
“I’m honest.”

Too often, this honesty is just unexamined bias with confidence. Cruelty mistaken for authenticity. Stagnation framed as integrity.

Meanwhile, the men who are trying,even awkwardly are ridiculed for not being natural enough.

But nothing about patriarchy is natural.
It is rehearsed.
Repeated.
Rewarded.

If masculinity can be performed, so can respect.

And if we accept centuries of harmful performance as tradition, we can survive a few decades of corrective performance as progress.

What Feminism Actually Asks For

As a feminist, I don’t need men to arrive fully enlightened. I don’t need perfect language or flawless theory. I don’t need public declarations or private guilt.

I need behaviour.

Consistent behaviour.
Visible behaviour.
Behaviour in front of other men.

I need men who will speak when it’s uncomfortable.
Step back when it costs them nothing and sometimes when it does.
Respect boundaries without applause.
Change the room, not just their image.

If that begins as an act, fine.

Acts become habits.
Habits become norms.
Norms become culture.

And culture is what actually shapes lives.

Why This Matters in India Specifically

In India, progress rarely comes from moral awakening alone. It comes from discomfort. From being watched. From knowing that behaviour will be noticed, questioned, remembered.

Public shame has always been a tool here used poorly, often cruelly. But visibility has also been a catalyst.

When respect becomes expected, entitlement loses its invisibility.

That is why men resist it being performed.

Because once respect is visible, its absence is too.

So Call Them Performative

Call them performative.
Mock them.
Question their motives.

Meanwhile, I will continue to respect the men whose actions ,fake or not make the room safer.

Because intentions don’t de-escalate harassment.
Behaviour does.

Because purity doesn’t protect women.
Patterns do.

Because in India, progress has never begun with perfect people.

It begins with pressure.