Performative activism can take the attention away from critically important issues and causes. It shines a light on the “activist” instead of the communities affected. Instead of spreading a message, the focus shifts to who can get crowned the social justice king of the day. (“How many likes and comments can I get?” “How does this make me look more ‘connected?’”)
Performative activism is also dangerous because it discourages others from doing more. It’s that mentality of, “Well, this person is doing the work, so why do I need to exert more energy in this subject too?” Performative activism is so appealing because it only takes a second to share a list of Asian-owned businesses on Twitter, display a BLM sign on your porch or wear rainbow-covered merch all June long to feel like you’re “down” with the cause. There’s no reason to commit fully to changing the long history of laws, discrimination and underrepresentation.
These actions might seem hypocritical and, when done for the wrong reasons, can backfire. Case in point? The National Football League (NFL) painted “End Racism” on their football fields, when just four years ago, they were denouncing Colin Kaepernick’s actions (and denying him a spot in the NFL) for taking a knee in support of the same movement.
Another concern? Fighting quietly (or even privately) for a cause might be seen as “less than,” because it isn’t as loud and flashy as performative activism. If there’s no proof of you donating, protesting or supporting an issue, does it still hold true? (Spoiler alert: Yes, yes it does.) Journalist Yomi Adegoke said it best: “I refer to it as a ‘pics or it didn’t happen’ approach to grief; if you don’t tweet about it, you don't care about it. If you don’t document something online, it didn’t happen.” We have been so programmed to share everything online. We’ve blurred the lines between personal and private lives. Rather than posting about where you stand on the issue, find out what needs to be done to fix the issue.