Noise Means Nothing
The Illusion of Performative Support
Today, I’m diving into something more personal but also necessary. We’re going to talk about 'Performative Support' and the impact it has on people chasing big dreams.
The word ‘performative’ comes from speech act theory, a concept introduced by philosopher J.L. Austin. It refers to speech that does something rather than just describes. In activism, performative support is when someone signals encouragement but doesn’t follow through with meaningful action. Boston Medical Center (2021) defines performative activism as “activism that is done to increase one’s social capital rather than out of genuine devotion to a cause.”
While this definition is applied to social justice movements, the same concept extends to interpersonal relationships. It’s the friend who cheers for you in public but quietly shits on you in private. The family member who claims to support your dreams yet never takes them seriously. The endless “Are you sure?” (… wait, am I sure?) that never seems to go away. In simpler terms: encouragement without genuine belief or action is just empty noise.
So, what have you always wanted to be? Have you known forever? Has it changed a million times since you were a kid?
From as early as I can remember, one thing was glaringly obvious: I am an artist. I flew through coloring books and draw-by-number pages in hours, never missing a single inch with my crayons.
That love for art evolved into freehand drawing, and I made it my personal mission to get all of my teachers to hang up one of my sketches. In first grade, fresh off watching Eight Legged Freaks (Dir. Ellory Elkayem) with my two older brothers, I drew an entire scene of me heroically saving my teacher, Mrs. Cullison, from giant, man-eating tarantulas. I wish I still had that drawing. A couple of years later, I won a drawing contest held by the high school FFA and walked away with a whopping twenty dollars. That made me the richest kid in my house for a whole week.
Looking back, I realize how much those early moments of genuine validation meant, and how easily enthusiasm can ignite a passion when it is sincere.
When I was eleven, I moved in with my mom in Kingston, New York. That’s when I discovered YouTube.com and the art of video editing. I started teaching myself how to edit in One True Media software. In hindsight, that was the moment I traded my pencil for a camera and never looked back. Years later, that skill led me to a job as an associate producer for Trusted Media Brands, editing for Fail Army, The Pet Collective, Taste of Home, and more.
With my newly discovered creative outlet, I started experimenting with stop-motion, pitting my WWE action figures against each other in miniature wrestling matches. Though, they were terrible videos, it is where it all began. I was slowly watching my ultimate goal in life take shape, right in front of me.
Unfortunately, I don’t have access to that old YouTube page anymore. Maybe there are still hidden drafts sitting there, untouched for twenty years. But after just ten months in New York, I moved back to Southeast Missouri. We had a lot less there, and what we did have, I had to share with at least five siblings. I no longer had access to YouTube or editing software. I never uploaded another video there again.
In high school, I found another outlet. I joined The Bulldog Barker newspaper staff, where I was finally able to share my work with a larger audience again. Over two years, I evolved into Editor-in-Chief (alongside another classmate).
During that time, I created a recurring interview series titled Dawg Talkin’, where we spotlighted notable people in our community. Some of the most memorable interviews included former MLB Rookie of the Month Blake DeWitt, Superintendent Tom Williams, and Mr. Solomon Stewart.
Then came college. Five full years. Something I wasn’t entirely prepared for, but I did it. And that’s when the noise started.
The same people who once praised my creativity, who proudly showed off my childhood drawings and videos, suddenly had something different to say. To them, attending university wasn’t an achievement; it was 'indoctrination.' Suddenly, the same people who once praised my creativity saw it as a threat. My passion and morals hadn’t changed, only their perception of them (and of me).
This is where the performative support started to crack, piece by piece. As long as my creativity stayed within their lane(s), they cheered. The second I took it beyond their comfort zone and into higher education, into critical thought; suddenly, they had doubts.
That’s the thing about performative support. It only exists when it’s convenient, when your success reflects well on them, rather than when it truly serves you.
When I was a kid mastering the use of crayons and sketchbooks, I was "gifted." When I was a college student challenging the narratives that I grew up with, I was "brainwashed." The difference wasn't me; it was what I represented, and how that aligned with their own views.
I was always the outspoken one. How could I not be? I grew up in the Bible Belt as the child of a nomadic lesbian woman, I never had the luxury of being quiet. My voice was necessary. Still is (yours is too). No matter how big or small my platform, I used it to call out the unfair treatment of LGBTQ+ people (and more) around me. Meanwhile, at home, Fox News was the soundtrack of my childhood, blaring from the living room TV for most hours of the day. Especially if Glenn Beck was on. We loved him.
Eventually, I knew I had to escape. And I did.
But, I didn’t just escape. I built something.
I turned my creativity into a career, working full-time in TV commercial production. The kind of career once dismissed as a “hobby.” The kind of success that was never supposed to come from someone who challenged rather than conformed. And beyond that? I have the most supportive partner in the world. She is someone who doesn’t just cheer for me in public, but believes in me every single day.
That’s the thing about real support, it is not selective. It doesn’t disappear when you step outside the lines others drew for you. It doesn’t waver when your dreams challenge their expectations.
Turns out, real support doesn’t come with conditions. And I’ve never been more sure of who I am today.
Now, I’m going to turn up “You’re Gonna Go Far” by Noah Kahan, lose myself in the music, and dream even bigger. Because no matter who believes in me (or who doesn’t) I know exactly where I’m headed… and that will be far, far from here.
For more of my work please visit, www.WishingWhalesMotionPictures.com.
Amazing! So beautifully written and worded!
I too, will ALWAYS be one of your biggest cheerleaders!
I love you, Mom ❤️❤️