To answer question, read the text below.

The Language of Performance

    Well, the word “performative” is generally meant as an insult. It’s meant to trivialize and indicate that someone is play-acting or “faking it.” It suggests that someone is only doing something to be seen doing it, and not because it represents a sincere interest or enjoyment.

    This is one of those situations in which metaphors are overextended, and language distorts rather than describes natural human behavior. It is normal for our species for men and women to “perform” acts to impress both our own sex and the opposite sex. Males and females have different sex “roles,” and we “perform” acts to satisfy those roles.

    The language seems to “portray” us as “actors performing roles” and implies that we are all essentially “lying” or “faking.” This is the kind of wordcel wordtrap that lends itself to Marxist gender theory ideology and postmodernist thinking.

    “Nothing is real, everything is fake. Everything is a performance.”

    That’s a frame, but it isn’t the whole picture.

    Men are primates. We imitate each other. Monkey see, monkey do. And yes, we do things to try to impress each other. You can frame that in a way that seems trivial or superficial, but it is also foundational to human nature and social hierarchy.

    Fonte: https//mrjackdonovan.substack.com/p/on-performative-males

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¹Buzzy (adj.): Something that is buzzy is getting a lot of attention and excitement, especially online. People are talking about it a lot, and it is popular right now. 

(Available at: https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c5y9d44jj24o – text specially adapted for this test). 

Text for question.

I believe that on the first night I went to Gatsby’s house I was one of the few guests who had actually been invited. People were not invited – they went there. They got into automobiles which bore them out to Long Island, and somehow they ended up at Gatsby’s door. Once there they were introduced by somebody who knew Gatsby, and after that they conducted themselves according to the rules of behavior associated with amusement parks. Sometimes they came and went without having met Gatsby at all, came for the party with a simplicity of heart that was its own ticket of admission.

I had been actually invited. A chauffeur in a uniform of robin’s-egg blue crossed my lawn early that Saturday morning with a surprisingly formal note from his employer: the honor would be entirely Gatsby’s, it said, if I would attend his “little party” that night. He had seen me several times, and had intended to call on me long before, but a peculiar combination of circumstances had prevented it – signed Jay Gatsby, in a majestic hand. 

Dressed up in white flannels I went over to his lawn a little after seven, and wandered around rather ill at ease among swirls and eddies of people I didn’t know – though here and there was a face I had noticed on the commuting train. I was immediately struck by the number of young Englishmen dotted about; all well dressed, all looking a little hungry, and all talking in low, earnest voices to solid and prosperous Americans. I was sure that they were selling something: bonds or insurance or automobiles. They were at least agonizingly aware of the easy money in the vicinity and convinced that it was theirs for a few words in the right key. 

FITZGERALD, F. S. The Great Gatsby. Charles Scribner's Sons, 1925. p. 41-42

Read the following passage from Passing, by Nella Larsen, and answer the question.

Stepping out of the elevator that had brought her to the roof, she was led to a table just in front of a long window whose gently moving curtains suggested a cool breeze. It was, she thought, like being wafted upward on a magic carpet to another world, pleasant, quiet, and strangely remote from the sizzling one that she had left below.

LARSEN, Nella. Passing. In: The Complete Fiction of Nella Larsen – Passing, Quicksand and The Stories. New York: Anchor Books, 2001, p. 164.