Masculinity has moved from the battlefield to the gym mirror, from conquest to curation—yet it remains a performance for power, not a journey toward the self
In traditional societies, masculinity was shaped by physical dominance, emotional restraint, and clearly defined gender roles. The “ideal man” was tough, stoic, and authoritative. His identity was constructed through labour, protection, provision, and at times, violence. This form of masculinity thrived in survival-oriented contexts, gaining legitimacy through communal recognition, family expectations, and even battlefield heroism. Across generations, this model was normalised, solidifying the image of the “strong man” who never showed vulnerability, never cared about aesthetics, and never faltered.
But in the contemporary urban and digitised world, that definition is increasingly outdated. Masculinity is no longer forged in fields or factories—it is filtered through Instagram, curated on social media, and performed for a surveilling audience of peers, followers, and algorithms. With the rise of digital media, consumer culture, and surveillance technologies, masculinity has undergone a shift from dominance to display.
The contemporary urban boy is not just a student, a friend, or a worker; he is a brand. His body, clothes, expressions, and digital presence form a composite identity tailored for public consumption. Masculinity is not only practised but performed, regulated not by tradition or family elders, but by likes, shares, and screen-time metrics. This new masculine order is neither liberated nor wholly progressive; it is simply different, governed by aesthetics, peer evaluation, and platform logic.
The gym has emerged as a symbolic arena for this transformation. No longer merely a space for building health or physical strength, it now functions as a site of aesthetic labour. Muscles are sculpted not for contests of endurance but to signify control, ambition, and discipline. The six-pack abs are no longer a health goalthey are symbolic capital in the economy of digital desirability. Drawing from Michel Foucault’s theory of disciplinary power, young men internalise mechanisms of self-surveillance, constantly managing their routines, diets, and bodies to meet a mediated ideal. The body, once functional, is now a visual statement—a billboard of one’s value in the marketplace of masculinity.
This transformation is deeply entangled with consumer capitalism. Masculinity is expressed as much through branded clothing, smartphones, accessories, and vehicles as it is through physique. Young men lean on bikes or luxury cars, flaunt logos, and curate image after image to perform status, power, and desirability. These objects serve as masculine propspart of a larger performance where economic power and visual capital reinforce each other. The traditional male gaze is still present, but it is now filtered through Instagram filters and fashion aesthetics.
Even educational institutions, especially in urban areas, are complicit in reinforcing this performative masculinity. These ostensibly neutral spaces reward students who conform to dominant visual norms—those who blend academic capability with digital charisma and social style. Social capital is increasingly tied not to merit but to visibility. Beauty becomes currency, and visibility becomes value. The performative boy thrives; the invisible one fades.
In this landscape, the selfie becomes more than a moment of self-expression—it becomes a ritual of emotional labour and social risk. Poses, lighting, backgrounds, and captions are carefully managed to attract validation. Likes, shares, and comments become instruments of affirmation or rejection. Masculinity is now crafted for digital consumption, fragile and constantly in need of reaffirmation. As Judith Butler has long argued, identity is not fixed—it is a performance. In the case of the boy, that performance is now algorithmically governed.
Surveillance sits at the heart of this shifting masculine terrain. Boys are watched not just by peers and parents but by platforms, data analytics, and digital strangers. This panoptic gaze transforms them into self-conscious curators of their appearance, style, and even gestures. Masculinity becomes a surface spectacle. Strength is communicated not through resilience but through images. The boy becomes an object of constant scrutiny, including his own.
And yet, this makeover of masculinity has not dismantled patriarchy—it has simply repackaged it. Power, competition, and exclusion remain central. The dominant boy is now the most-followed, the best-dressed, the most-desirable. Those who don’t or can’t conform are alienated, anxious, and often invisible. Beneath the well-groomed surface, many boys suffer from body dysmorphia, social fatigue, or emotional suppression. These are new symptoms of the same old disease: the pressure to “be a man.”
Simultaneously, traces of older masculinities persist. On streets and in public spaces, many boys still assert dominance through gaze, commentary, or territorial behaviour. Yet even these acts are now coded through consumerist logicdominance is expressed not just through presence, but through possessions. This duality of old masculinity dressed in new aesthetics reveals the incomplete nature of the transformation.
Masculinity is hyper-visible, fragile, and performative. It is shaped not by deeds but by displays; not by authenticity but by aesthetics. The boy lives in a digital hall of mirrors, where every angle must be right, every post perfect, every moment watchable. He is no longer free, only newly constrained. To truly transform masculinity, we must allow boys to be more than their bodies, more than their brands. We must create cultural spaces where vulnerability is strength, invisibility is not erasure, and performance is no longer a prerequisite for recognition.
The writer is an Assistant Professor at the Chandigarh University
Dr Ashwani Kumar
as************@****il.in