If you’ve been an active social media user in the past month, chances are you’ve seen Ashton Hall’s viral morning routine. In a video shared by @tipsformenx that now has a staggering 777 million views, the self-proclaimed online fitness coach and content creator shows his five-hour bizarre and outlandish regimen that includes bottles of Saratoga water, a four-second midair hang before making a splash in the pool, and rubbing a banana peel on his face.

For better or worse, it broke the internet.

There was an uptick in Google searches and sales equity for the bottled water brand. Everyone from Cap’n Crunch and Duolingo to an NFL Team and a renowned plastic surgeon are taking a gander at this trend. As they say, any publicity is good publicity, especially as an internet personality, but is it safe to say that it’s not all good when even Logan Paul is making a mockery out of you?

But underneath all of Hall’s preposterous activities and the internet’s incredulous response to it lies an undertone about gender performance that as sinister as it comes off, the influencer himself might not have realized. Is all that really what today’s masculinity is about?

In the seminal essay Performative Acts and Gender Constitution, feminist scholar Judith Butler said, “Gender is in no way a stable identity or locus of agency from which various acts proceede; rather, it is an identity tenuously constituted in time—an identity instituted through a stylized repetition of acts.”

So, judging from the multitude of recreations of Ashton Hall’s morning routine video, is it fair to say that that’s the definition of modern masculinity?

Of course, the current production of gender norms doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Understanding today’s masculinity requires tracing back to societies of old and how the culture of that time reinforces what men of that era looked like.

Arguably, one of the most defining eras that became the linchpin of today’s masculinity is the 1920s and 1930s. The economic collapse of the Great Depression threatened the breadwinning position attached to men, with “many observers feared they were becoming feminized” and radical writer Floyd Dell beckoning his peers to become “disciplined activists with ‘rigorous concepts of duty.’”

As the rise of World War II turned men into just that—ruthless soldiers steeped in aggression and stoicism—a serendipitous female emancipation creeped into society as women took over commercial duties. Yet, the post-WWII era in early 50’s America sought to reinstate traditional gender norms, birthing the aesthetics known now as “tradwife.” 

Indelibly marked by physical and psychological trauma, the definitions of manhood rely on hyper-masculinity built upon violence and female devaluation. Being driven by self-reliance for purposes of breadwinning (and otherwise) became unattainable, and relying on women for care and economic stability rendered men insecure, with Christina Jarvis describing it as “an erasure of men’s own self-healing powers and […] the consolidation of male power in postwar America.”

The 80’s then brought about a fallout of the Vietnam War loss and the peak of second-wave feminism posed an arbitrary threat to masculinity. It was then combatted throughout the next decade with an uncouth representation of “manly men.” Arnold Schwarzenegger and his defining role as the titular cyborg in the Terminator films was a demonstration of indestructible physical strength, Reagan’s reign in the Oval Office reinstated conservative views, and masculinity is once again tied to Wall Street’s finance bros.

That specific facet of manhood is solidified well into the 2000s by the cult classic American Psycho and its murderous titular character Patrick Bateman, who, despite the culture of men’s apathy to self-care and appearance, keeps a rigorous, intricate, multi-step morning workout and skincare routine—or, in other words, a rigorous concept of duty.

It’s also when “metrosexual” was added to the vernacular to describe straight men who are aptly dressed, well-groomed, and “willing, even eager, to embrace their feminine sides.” Lifestyle magazines, consumer goods, and fashion houses are now diversifying their offerings to accommodate this untapped market and participate in the rise of consumerist capitalism that previously targeted women, giving rise to increasingly prevalent body image issues men are roped into.

As timelessly nostalgic and aesthetically vibrant the Y2K era was, however, it was a predecessor to the Great Recession, a global economic crash that once again threatened manhood that it was called a mancession. Toxic masculinity became an underdog in the masculinist realm, with many thinking society “punishes men just for acting like men.”

Going into the later part of the 2010s, this notion is embodied by the election of Trump as President of the United States in 2016. Though feminism has found a prevalent place in global society, especially with #MeToo, the opposing rhetoric swung harder, escalating towards the overturning of Roe v. Wade that combatted and almost demeaned the dangers and power dynamics of sexual violence.

Come the 2020s, the meteoric rise of social media and influencers—paired with a cultural shift that tips rightward—birthed this new brand of masculinity, one centered around God, fitness, self-branding, and a clinically corporal and ultra-modern aesthetic. The pendulum swings back to the hegemonic hyper-masculinity of the 50’s, 80’s, and 2000’s, finding manhood in places of aggressive dominance over women, aversive rejection of femininity, and self-reliant sufficiency warped by capitalist views.

Men are often expected to be breadwinners, but they—we—often forget that required provisions lie beyond just money. That’s why absent fathers, domestic violence, unfulfilled marriages, and the lonely male epidemic is a thing. They were never expected to provide emotionally as much as financially.

With alt-right men like Andrew Tate, Mark Zuckerberg, and Joe Rogan monopolizing the masculine social media landscape, disseminating these messages of masculinity becomes easier, reaching younger audiences more feasibly. These ideas are repeated, reproduced, and solidifies this conservative wave of men, and the messages are the same: optimize your life.

While Ashton Hall’s video doesn’t outright reintroduce these messages of manhood, his Bateman-esque morning routine is still a mask for the same values the aforementioned men stood for: Male dominance by proxy of lavish wealth (hence the Saratoga waters for every little mundane thing—from ice cold face plunges to teeth flossing machines) and erasure of women (clock the disembodied hands that always cleans up after his staged messes or cooks and serves his meals). And, if his disingenuous morning routine videos aren’t enough to demonstrate that, maybe his less-than-tasteful response to people recreating his content while telling others that recreating trends is “the blueprint to success” will convince you.

Though gender-based violence is still an all too prevalent real threat today, the underlying menace of this new-wave masculinity poses a different danger to women.

While it’s hard to say that one is more evil than the other, the objective of both remains the same: silencing and erasing femininity through dominance and power.

Ultimately, it’s a display of an idea of masculinity built upon commodification, fabrication, and disingenuity. If there’s one thing that Ashton Hall’s—or rather, Saratoga Water’s—viral moment proves, it’s that men are so back, much to the delight of other men. Oh, and we’re probably heading into another economic recession.