A Living Performer
My life as a constant performer
This is definitely inspired by Caitlyn’s TikTok—@caitlynandcharlee—and I’ll link her video here so you can hear her take: watch here. Her words really unlocked something in me. It’s a topic I’ve always known deeply, something I live with, but rarely admit out loud: I was bullied growing up. I didn’t make a lot of friends. I was, for the most part, an outcast. And I know I’m not the only one.
What that experience did to me, though, is what I’ve spent years unravelling. Without even realising it, I became a consistent performer and a people pleaser. Always trying to shape-shift into the most likable, palatable version of myself, especially at school and around my peers. I remember this one moment so vividly; it still haunts me. I had started changing how I acted just to fit in. One of the girls was calling me to do something, and I heard her say under her breath, “If you ask Chimdi to do something, she always will.” I remember the sinking feeling in my chest. Like… they knew. They knew I was performing. That my smile, my eagerness, my presence wasn’t fully mine. That mask I had carefully crafted had slipped, and I couldn’t unhear it, and 7 years later I still can’t.
Who was I when I wasn’t performing? When I wasn’t trying to be wanted, beautiful, or useful? I didn’t have an answer then, and sometimes, I still don’t.
Ironically, what pulled me out of this cycle was when a group of my close friends stopped liking me, just like that. And none of them tried to ask how I felt or what was going on with me. I always felt like I was never the most liked anyway, always the one slightly outside the circle, always judged somewhat. And the more I tried to be accepted, the more I shrank. It crept into how I carried myself, how I presented online, and how I showed up in rooms. Who was I if I wasn’t desirable? Who was I if I wasn’t chosen?
Social media made this worse. It’s this never-ending performance loop. If I’m not beautiful, desirable, or relevant, do I even matter? Caitlyn’s video referenced a quote about the “internalisation of the gaze,” and I felt that deeply when you are both the actor and the audience. When you can’t rest because you’re constantly watching yourself, judging yourself, and editing yourself in real-time. It becomes exhausting. And yet somehow, you still have to look put together. Beautiful. Lit from the right angle. At the very least, they can say I’m pretty.
I used to have restless sleep. Still do sometimes. I’m always on. Always trying to develop myself, fix myself, outgrow the version that wasn’t enough. But I never let myself be still. I couldn’t. Who am I really, without the pressure to be better? Without the fear of being left behind?
There’s a quote from Baudrillard that Caitlyn mentions about how we’re no longer performing real things, just copies of copies of copies. That hit me like a brick. I can feel that in the way I talk, walk, pose, and even exist. I don’t even know if the original version of me exists anymore or if she ever did.
Lately, I’ve started making conscious choices. I talk less. Entertain less. Sit in silence more. It still feels uncomfortable, even painful. I still feel like the one left out of the group photo, the one walking behind, the one there but not quite included. But at least now, I can say I’m trying to be true to myself, as close as I know how.
My insecurities still bleed through. But at the very least, I’m aware of them. I see the cracks, and I no longer rush to patch them up. I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully free from this internal performance, but I’m finally learning how to pause. I want to ask myself not what’s expected of me but what I want.
And maybe that’s at least something.