Most of us are performing.
Not just online — but in our clothes, our conversations, our spending, our silence.
We perform for our families, our neighbors, our peers. We perform for strangers on Instagram and for classmates we haven’t spoken to in years. We perform to say, “I made it,” even when we haven’t. We perform to hide the hustle, the loans, the grief, the shame.
In Kenya, to look like you’re struggling is often worse than to actually struggle.
So we signal. With shoes, with weddings, with cars, with captions.
Because dignity — here — is something you must display to be allowed to keep.
We borrowed the car, we leased the house,
Took the loan, wore the lace, smiled for the photos.
Just to whisper to the world —
I am not the struggle I came from.
When Dignity Must Be Displayed
In Kenya, poverty is more than economic — it is a social stigma, a public shame. Many of us are not just trying to escape hardship, we are trying to escape the look of it.
In a society where appearance often determines how you are treated, status becomes armor. Whether it’s a young man in a tailored suit with no fare home, or a rural family that breaks the bank for a wedding just to silence gossip — these are not random acts. These are signals. Signals that say, I matter. Respect me. I am not behind.
But this signaling is not only cultural — it’s deeply psychological. It reveals our anxieties, our aspirations, and our unspoken trauma. It shows how a nation, scarred by inequality and obsessed with appearances, turns performance into survival.
The Psychology Behind the Performance
Status signaling — or what psychologists call conspicuous consumption and impression management — is the act of using visible cues (wealth, language, morality, even suffering) to influence how others see us.
In Kenya, this behavior is turbocharged by:
-
Scarcity trauma: Many of us grew up watching our parents struggle with food, rent, or respect. The fear of going back to that place — even emotionally — pushes us to spend, dress, and talk in ways that ward off judgment.
-
Class instability: The Kenyan middle class is fragile. One hospital bill or business failure can send you tumbling down. So we cling to visible markers — cars, clothes, accents — like lifebuoys in a stormy sea.
-
Comparison culture: We live in a constant audit of each other. “Ako na ngapi?” “Anaishi wapi?” “Ameolewa na nani?” It’s hard to live authentically when your value is measured in whispers.
-
Shame-based society: We confuse being poor with being lazy or foolish. So we overcorrect — not by healing, but by hiding. We don’t want help, we want to look like we never needed it.
Where the Signals Show Up
1. The Borrowed Lifestyle
Financing German machines on a modest salary. Renting apartments in Kileleshwa while surviving on overdrafts. Taking soft loans for birthday shoots. We don't just spend money — we spend image. Debt becomes a down payment on perceived dignity.
2. Grooming as Armor
For many, well-ironed shirts, good perfume, and clean shoes are less about vanity and more about defense. Especially for men, looking “sharp” is a way to secure jobs, respect, and even safety. If you look poor, you’ll be treated poorly.
3. Social Media as a Showroom
Instagram captions, travel photos, curated aesthetics. Here, your life isn’t just lived — it’s presented. Even the quote “we move regardless” is often masking burnout, debt, or depression. Online, we signal not to connect — but to compete.
4. Moral and Religious Signaling
In a devout society, even holiness is a status symbol. People post prayers, blessings, and tithes not just as faith — but as a flex. “God did it for me” often means “Don’t ask how I got here.” Spirituality becomes a polished filter over messy reality.
5. Education as Family Branding
Private schools, international curriculums, overseas degrees. These aren't just investments — they’re statements. They say, “We are not your average family.” Even when a child’s mental health is suffering or siblings are estranged, the degrees on the wall must gleam.
6. Events as Power Plays
In Kenya, we don’t just bury the dead or bless unions — we stage them. Funerals and weddings have become arenas for public validation. People take loans for tents, DJs, goats, gowns — just to say, “Our name still holds weight.”
How to Know You’re Status Signaling (and What To Do About It)
We’re not here to judge — we’re here to notice.
Here are some honest signs you might be signaling more than living:
1. You often spend money to silence judgment, not for actual need.
-
That outfit isn’t for joy — it’s to avoid looking "cheap."
-
That loan isn’t for survival — it’s to fund a lifestyle others expect from you.
What to do:
Ask yourself: If no one were watching, would I still spend this way?
2. You feel ashamed of basic, frugal, or simple living — even when it’s working.
-
You hide matatu rides on stories.
-
You crop out parts of your home that look “local.”
-
You dread being seen doing humble jobs.
What to do:
Name your shame. Whose opinion are you running from — and why do they have that power?
3. You curate more than you connect.
-
You post less to share and more to position.
-
You dress to be seen not to feel good.
-
You speak in “aspirational” language that feels forced.
What to do:
Experiment with being honest. Try showing your real day online. Wear that simple outfit. Watch who respects you anyway — those are your people.
4. You resent those who don’t perform.
-
You feel uncomfortable around people who are content in their simplicity.
-
You look down on frugal choices, even when they make sense.
What to do:
This might be internalized shame. Their freedom is triggering your performance. That’s not hate — that’s a mirror. Look gently.
5. You fear being found out.
-
You lie about where you live.
-
You exaggerate job titles.
-
You’re constantly calculating how to “maintain the image.”
What to do:
Ask yourself: What would actually happen if they knew the truth? Then ask again — What would happen if you accepted it first?
The Price of Performance
We are tired.
Financially tired. Emotionally tired. Spiritually tired. Because performing a life you can’t afford — or don’t even want — is exhausting.
And the cruel twist? Many people are comparing themselves to others who are also faking it. So we enter the imposter spiral — perform, feel fake, fear exposure, perform harder. In Kenya, this spiral is cultural currency. But it costs us peace, authenticity, and often, progress.
A Mirror, Not a Whip
This is not an attack. It’s a mirror.
Most of us are just trying to find safety, dignity, and recognition in a country that often denies us all three unless we perform.
But what if dignity was not something to be worn but something to be reclaimed?
What if we allowed each other to just… be? Poor. Honest. Joyful. Struggling. Real.
What if our worth wasn’t earned in captions, clothes, or cars — but carried in how we treat others, how we rest, how we live?
We’re all trying to be safe, respected, and remembered.
But there’s another way — a slower, truer, quieter way.
The kind of life where:
-
You spend for your joy, not their approval.
-
You dress for comfort, not comparison.
-
You share for connection, not curation.
There’s room for you to stop performing. There’s grace for you to return to yourself.
Closing Mantra
I do not need to perform to be worthy.
I do not need to wear wealth to have dignity.
I do not need to prove anything to people who would not walk a mile in my shoes.
I will not go broke trying to impress a world that doesn’t pay my bills.
Comments
Post a Comment