To be a 'puddle', the worst nightmare: we have no personality, we are snobs

Perhaps by the time this text is published, it's already considered charca to say that something is charca. But delving into this topic has become a necessity, an obligation (and for my friends, an obsession). In short, something much more complex and less frivolous than I would have wished, which at first was reduced to a list of things that made us charca (according to my interpretation, of course).

It all began during a post-meal chat, on my friend Tània's porch. "What is it to be charca?", they asked me, more as an accusation than a question; making me wield a weapon that pointed at all of them, at the risk of hurting half the people sitting there. Despite the efforts to sketch out an accurate definition that, at the same time, moved as far away as possible from a police sketch of any of those present, it was impossible to stop the barrage of questions that followed. "Is posting a photo of my Strava charca? And a selfie?", "Is being charca the same as being boomer?", "And me? AM I CHARCA?". I don't remember what I answered, only that I made an effort not to answer with another question, paraphrasing Bécquer: "What is charca? And you ask me that?".

We are still struggling to find a good definition that everyone understands and agrees with. Every time we try to narrow down the concept – elusive, like everything that comes from the fascinating world of the internet – we make it more abstract, and everything ends up being susceptible to being basic. Based on one of these conversations, and on some articles published about this topic, we summarized the term as “basing your personality on everything that consumer society has created specifically for you to like (without being aware of it)”. It’s not about liking one of these products – empty, made only to be consumed – but about it forming the base of the pyramid of your identity, as if it were originality. In short, it is uncritically incorporating regurgitated tastes that someone has designed for you.

For the personality test that this article was supposed to include –Discover if you are basic or not– I gathered some requirements, which I have decided to keep as examples. And they are as follows: attending any hamburger contest; previously, traveling to Thailand and now, to Japan or Bali; creating images or posters with ChatGPT non-ironically; proposing marriage at a Bruno Mars concert; posting a photo of your Hyrox training whiteboard; the ritual of going to see the Christmas lights; organizing a gender reveal (every part of this process: from thinking it’s a good idea to the pink confetti or blue exhaust fumes and the two-colored cupcakes); using words like ‘Wanderlust’ or getting ‘Ohana’ tattooed; the book The Maid; recommending Money Heist to everyone; Dubai chocolate and Tagliatella; having the tradition of drinking a Pumpkin Spice Latte at Starbucks when autumn begins, as if we were in Connecticut; having a count of the countries you’ve visited in your social media bio.

However, from what perspective do we classify these fashions? Who issues the charca cards? Fortunately, I have some clever and sincere friends who know how to ask the right questions. I don't know if they were more indignant than curious, they cornered me, me, all alone with my shame and my humility. All to remind me that humor must always be from the bottom up. They were angry about being the losers of a game in which they could not participate. And all of a sudden I felt like the executioner of a mockery that deceived us all, like the phrase 'You are not like the rest. You are different'.

It's not personality: it's snobbery

There is a sense of superiority in those who point to the rest as outcasts, and a carefree happiness in those who are pointed at. Perhaps we need to sharpen our gaze a little more and do as Martin Parr does: contemplate people and their habits as remnants of this mass society, instead of reducing them to their consumption practices. To see satire and critique in them, instead of ridicule and parody. Perhaps it is that snobbery is escaping us through a seam. Since our economy no longer allows us to establish hierarchies – we are all equally precarious – we use access to culture as a tool for social climbing and, if necessary, as a missile aimed at our equals. All to feel middle class again.

We want sophisticated tastes. We want to be niche. Cultural status is the only thing we can aspire to. We build our identity at the expense of the periphery, of couples who go to the mall to spend the day, of those who listen to Los 40 in the car. We have become addicts to this feeling, to the ability to sniff out – like pigs sniffing out truffles – the authenticity of any product: the latest by Joachim Trier, some black raver sunglasses, the smallest name on the Primavera Sound poster, and the roasted coffee from a traditional bar. And all for what? To satisfy this longing to be different which, in the end, makes us the same as everyone else.