As engaging in social media participation grows rapidly, here’s how we can return to authenticity and avoid performative online culture.
Early in the lockdown, when the world had slowed to a strange, anxious pause, social media began to feel different. We were all at home, unsure, trying to make sense of our new reality. And in that uncertainty, many of us turned to an online universe. People posted without overthinking: blurry selfies, makeup-free faces, random kitchen experiments and playful videos. We cannot forget the long, honest captions written at 1 a.m. because there wasn’t much else to do.
At the time, we weren’t curating perfect grids — we were sharing our realities, connecting, and laughing where we could. The pressure to be polished seemed to loosen, even if just for a moment. But as the world gathered pace again, we stayed online, attempting to manufacture the effortlessness of those videos… until it all began to feel like a performance.
Now, when Beyoncé occasionally shares candid photos or family-centred snapshots, the internet responds positively. When Rihanna posts unfiltered pregnancy photos or playful everyday content, fans celebrate the rawness. Closer to home, when Temi Ajibade, formerly Temi Otedola, shares vlogs of her daily adventures, it gives a glimpse into what her life really is like beyond the glamour. These moments feel real because they feel unscripted. They interrupt the polished version of these people we see regularly.
But looking at all this, we have to ask: why does authenticity feel so rare that it becomes headline news and trendworthy? Why does a simple, relaxed photo feel almost radical? That question takes us into the heart of performative culture online, especially in a country like Nigeria, where social media participation is vibrant, influential, and constantly evolving.
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Are people becoming more performative on social media?
The short answer: yes — in many ways, social media is pushing people toward performance, not authenticity. Social media was built for connection, but it runs on visibility: likes, shares, views, and follower counts. These metrics subtly train us to think of ourselves as content creators, even when we’re just trying to share our lives.
Research on digital self-presentation shows that when people know they’re being observed by a large audience, they become more strategic about how they present themselves. On social media, we don’t just express; we curate and anticipate reactions. We edit captions, and we retake photos.
Here’s the thing: performativity doesn’t always mean fake. It often means consciously crafting an identity with an audience in mind. One of the clearest signs of this shift is aesthetic perfection culture — the obsession with the perfect Instagram grid, cohesive colour palettes, curated Pinterest boards, and hyper-aligned personal “brands.” People now delete photos that don’t match their feed. They plan outfits around how they will look in a 3×3 layout. They avoid posting spontaneous moments because it might “ruin the grid.”
Beyond the grid
Performative culture doesn’t stay online. Over time, it slips into everyday life. People don’t just curate photos; they curate hobbies, interests, and even opinions. The aesthetic book stack. Picking up tennis because it fits the clean girl aesthetic. The perfectly annotated planner. The soft-life morning routine captured just so.
It’s about people curating an aspirational version of themselves online — the cultured one, the well-read one, the socially conscious one, the soft-life one — and then slowly feeling pressure to live up to that digital persona offline.
There’s nothing wrong with planning your content. It only becomes an issue when keeping the feed pretty matters more than just being yourself. When you start arranging your life for the timeline instead of actually living it, you begin to miss key elements of yourself and lose the essence of what it means to be you.
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Let’s bring it closer to home
Nigeria is one of Africa’s most digitally active nations. As of 2025, Nigeria has approximately 38.7 million active social media users, accounting for around 16% of the population, with young people comprising the majority of users. Platforms like WhatsApp, Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and X dominate youth engagement, and with a tool as powerful as social media, visibility is power.
We’ve seen the strength of Nigerian digital participation during movements like #EndSARS and #EndBadGovernance, where social media amplified voices globally. But we’ve also seen how quickly participation can become symbolic. Posting a hashtag, changing a display picture, or sharing a trending opinioncan be meaningful acts. Still, they can become virtue signals performed to avoid criticism or to align with the dominant online ideology.
Beyond activism, performativity shows up in lifestyle culture. The “soft life” aesthetic rarely goes beyond social media. Think luxury birthday and Valentine’s shoots, public relationship declarations, or travel content timed for peak engagement.
And because influencing and digital branding are legitimate income streams in Nigeria, performance is sometimes strategic. A well-curated feed can translate into brand partnerships. A viral thread can open professional doors.
But here’s where we need nuance: authenticity does not mean oversharing.
The issue isn’t boundaries; it’s when posting becomes pressure. When people feel compelled to manufacture moments for approval. When experiences are valued less for how they feel, and more for how they will look online.
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How to combat performativity on social media
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When everything is curated, realness becomes the disruption. We’re still genuinely excited when Temi Ajibade or Priscilla Mkambala share something online. Even when the content is clearly optimised, it retains a certain humanity. It’s warm, unforced, and deeply relatable.
So how do we resist slipping into performance ourselves? Here are practical ways to combat performativity on social media:
Post with intent, not validation in mind
Before posting, ask yourself: “Am I sharing this for meaningful connection or just likes? Am I this person outside of social media?” This helps shift focus from performance to purpose. It keeps you grounded in your true self.
Be selective with platforms and time
Spending a lot of time on feeds engineered for constant comparison, like Instagram and TikTok, can reinforce performative habits. Spend more time on other platforms that prioritise conversation over viral metrics, like WhatsApp or niche community spaces.
Celebrate imperfection
Make room for posts that don’t look “perfect.” Authentic content, even if it’s not viral, fosters deeper human connection and normalises everyday life.
Contextualise activism and identity online
When discussing causes, pair your online voice with offline action; volunteer work, discussions with friends and family, or local engagement.
In a culture obsessed with perfect grids, curated boards, and going viral, being real almost feels rebellious. And in Nigeria’s vibrant, creative social media space, the goal isn’t to log off or disappear. It’s simply to remember that we’re human before we are internet avatars of ourselves, handles and content creators.
We can ease up on the pressure to perform and let real life show up on our timelines.
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