Niche to Meet You!

News Editorial Assistant Maryam Bokhari contemplates the tension between performance and authenticity, even when no one is watching.

It seems like all we were born to do is be perceived, viewed in such a way that means something, right before we’re even allowed to find that meaning for ourselves. Our whole life is being spent and broadcast on the internet, and because of this, I’ve found myself slowly splitting: Half girl, half digital. When will the surveillance cameras in my head turn off? 

Capitalism has turned subcultures into brands, neat little micro labels for us to lock ourselves into. Trends barely exist anymore, really. It’s all about the “type” of girl you are, and what those types of girls should be into. It girl. Alt. Soft. Y2K. Clean. Fleabag-pilled, Sylvia Plath-coded. Who does any of this really apply to? Obviously, there’s nothing wrong with liking these things or participating in them. But what I need to keep reminding myself of is that there is no room for authenticity or self-exploration if you spoon-feed yourself these personas. No real experience or understanding is happening here because you’re engaging in life in the third person.

All I ever see online are videos with thousands of likes criticising “performative acts,” or things that are not “representative of one’s true spirit.” These include, from my observations: profile pictures, music taste, usernames, drink orders, TikTok reposts, outfits, slang… Apparently, nobody can “out-niche” the other.

And it makes me feel guilty, because I find comfort in my “niche” interests. I pride myself on knowing things before other people do. To make an observation that comes from a random nerdy rabbit hole I went down. To understand what someone is referencing when nobody else does. (I’m suddenly reminded of that “sick reference, bro” meme from This is the End [2013]). But I also find joy in knowing that there’s always a community out there that knows what you’re talking about. I’m not the only one who ships two characters from a random British 2000s TV show on Ao3. And some user just made an Interview with the Vampire TikTok edit to a Bollywood song that I like. This is my niche, yes. But it’s someone else’s, too.  

Sometimes, an artist I really like came from TikTok. And sometimes, I’ve even lied to people and said I found them on my own. When I’m reading a book on the Metro, all I can think about is how I look. What kind of girl do they think I am? Do they think I look cool? Esoteric, dare I say? 

What a lot of people (me included) need to realise is that maybe we are posers. You are performative, to a certain extent. And maybe… that’s okay (well, most of the time). 

The other day, my fellow News Editorial Assistant and I were having a conversation (shout out Jordan) about the books we used to read when we were kids. I was transported back to when I was 13, curled up on the sofa, reading Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief, and having the time of my life. When I read it now in public, there’s a little voice in my head telling me I’m too old to be reading it in the first place. 

Jordan brought up a quote while we were talking, “I am a mosaic of everyone I have ever loved”. It originates from an old Tumblr post. And it’s completely right. Because I loved who I was when I was a teenager. I loved her hobbies, her taste, her ideas. And I loved where they came from, too. There was less overthinking (and screentime) involved. My vocabulary was taken from ex-friends. My style was borrowed from my mum. My favourite books were recommended to me by old teachers. And it reminded me that a lot of the things that make up who you are…are already niche as hell. You don’t need to perform your uniqueness. Let the world find out for themselves. 

Turn that camera off. No one’s watching, I promise.