“Not Mad, Just Disappointed”
Generational Mythologies and The Paradox of Gen Z
If you’ve ever seen an episode of Real Time with Bill Maher, you’ve likely heard Maher and his revolving cast of journalists, writers, and politicians bemoan the existence of the typical “Gen Z” 20-something who can’t read, can’t talk, and can’t take a joke. These days, Maher often starts one of his famous editorials off with the phrase “Kids these days…” and ends it with a sucker-punch to the overactive gut of every anxious, lazy, and distracted kid under the age of 27.
I am one of those gastro-intestinally challenged kids.
“Generation Z” or “IGen,” coined by social-psychologist Jean Twenge in her 2017 book of the same name, is the group of youngsters situated between the Millennials (1981-1996) and Generation Alpha (2012-Present). I was born in the Fall of 1997, which, depending on the source you consult, was the starting birth year for Generation Z. For those of you who like Math, this means members of Gen Z currently fall between the ages of 12 and 27.
Here are some fast facts about Gen Z:
Having been the first generation to grow up with wide-spread access to the Internet and portable, digital devices, members of Gen Z are often considered to be “digital natives,” regardless of whether they’re digitally literate.
On average, Gen Z teens and young adults report lower rates of teenage pregnancy and consume alcohol (but not necessarily other psychoactive drugs) less often than previous generations.
Gen Z is, on average, diagnosed more often with specific long-term health problems than previous generations, including allergies, sleep deprivation, learning disabilities, and many forms of mental illness/disorders, particularly anxiety and depression. (You can read all about this in Jonathan Haidt’s book, The Anxious Generation.)
Academic performance has also become a huge issue for Gen Z, as college has gotten infinitely more expensive, reading & writing habits have changed drastically in the age of social & digital media, and most startling of all, long-term isolation during the Covid-19 Pandemic fundamentally altered the way children and teens approach school, learning, and socializing.
So, those of us in Gen Z must all be a strange breed of overly coddled, risk-averse, mentally ill freaks who can’t read, write, or sit still for too long.
Did I get that right?
Gen Z and our little “quirks” have, over the last five years, become generational fodder for Boomers, Gen X-ers, and even Millennials to ruthlessly torment in their various op-eds, comedy specials, and think-pieces. Step aside, Millennials. Gen Z has become everyone’s new favorite punching bag!
Sure, Millennials, Gen X-ers, and Baby Boomers all received their fair share of bullying as young people. Even now, “Okay, Boomer” jokes and “side part, skinny jean” millennial memes still circulate widely online. Gen X is often forgotten altogether. Aren’t jokes about Gen Z pretty much par for the course?
Well, sort of.
Gen Z seems to occupy a uniquely shitty place in the popular imagination. We spent our childhoods & adolescence on iPhones, laptops, and gaming consoles. We checked teenage verification boxes before we even reached middle school. We lived through the pain of puberty in front of millions of strangers. We were spoon-fed eating disorder content and radical ideologies by all-knowing algorithms. We found predators & pornography too early and first dates & first kisses too late.
We are addicted to doom scrolling on TikTok, YouTube, & Instagram. We fall prey easily to mis- and disinformation on the Internet. We are sent on a fool’s errand at 18-years-old to somehow overcome poverty, buy a home, and start a family, all while the influencers and celebrities we see online attend the Met Gala and vacation in Bali. We meet soulmates on dating apps and ghost them a week later. We quietly quit the jobs we got six months ago, whilst forever complaining about our lack of purpose and meaning. We sign petitions to have professors fired for teaching classes that are “too hard.” We protest naively in the streets for causes we didn’t cause and receive scowls and taunts from those who did the same thing fifty years ago. We are villainized, coddled, criticized, indulged, mocked, and yet, somehow, it’s all our fault for our inability to enact some simple self-discipline.
Even this article from the Chronicle of Higher Education notes our distinct generational experiences:
Gabriel Rubin, a professor of justice studies at Montclair State University, has been exploring this topic through dozens of in-depth interviews with college students. He wanted to understand a seeming paradox: Even though we live in a relatively safe time — with life expectancies steadily increasing — young people are consumed with worry and see risks and existential danger all around them.
Rubin came away from these interviews struck by how different Generation Z’s experiences have been. They are a complex and diverse group, he notes. They’re aware that they often retreat into online worlds, and they criticize their own generation for being lazy or having lost motivation. They consider themselves progressive and activist, but they are increasingly skeptical that they can effect change. They are cynical but desperate for meaning. “They vacillate between this great pride in themselves,” Rubin says, “and hopelessness and just feeling defeated.”
Essentially, the generation born out of “No Child Left Behind” is actually, quite literally, being left behind. Gen Z is simultaneously the most entitled and neglected generation to exist in recent memory.
What happened to us?
As one of the oldest of Gen Z, I’m still at a loss for what happened to me. My impressive academic record, good job, and well-cultivated personality all point to a person who seems to have escaped the worst of the aforementioned trauma. I find friends and mentors in older people quite easily. I use social media sparingly. I can read, write, and, hey, even take a joke!
And still, I’m more Gen Z than anything else. I surfed the same dangerous web. I felt the same social pressures to have the newest iPhone and be the hottest, skinniest girl on Instagram. I suffered at the hands of my equally insecure peers who texted me over and over that I was nothing and should kill myself. I was preyed on by men much older than me, both strangers on Twitter and those I met in real life. I found myself too stunted, too anxious, and too scared to have sex before the age of 21. I gave up so much of my deepest self for the prying eyes of strangers, friends, and family members, just to feel rejected, unwanted, and lonelier than before.
Most of all, I feel for my younger compatriots. I see them in the library stacks, coffee shops, and elevators of my employing academic institution. They seem to wander around listless, stressed, and deeply misunderstood by their parents, professors, and the world at large. They mostly find solace in each other, particularly after the last four years of self-isolating chaos. They reach out to each other at library study tables and laugh for hours on end. They share TikToks and Reels. They establish student clubs and post flyers asking for bassists and drummers to join their newly formed bands. They write poetry for literary mags and publish meaningful research. They ask questions (sometimes) and always seem to be onto the next great thing.
Despite how close I feel to them, they don’t recognize me. I’m not one of them. I’m part of the establishment that causes them stress and financial hurt. I am an “authority.” I now symbolize the “other.”
When I wear jeans to work, the students balk at the “cheugy,” skinny style, while my managers scoff at my “unprofessional” outfit. I sit through formal meetings about student assessment and performance, yet I find myself experiencing the same overall lack of engagement and focus. My job is literally to be their biggest advocate, and yet I feel stuck in the middle.
This was all made infinitely shittier by a text message I received from the ForwardBlue PAC a few weeks ago:
I’ve seen my fair share of out-of-touch political text messages in the eight years since I earned the right to vote (Except you, Jon Tester. Never change💙), but this one takes the cake. For the record, I committed to voting for Biden the first time ForwardBlue sent me a text message a weeks ago, even if I didn’t particularly want to do so. So, this condescending little “reminder” to fill out their form and donate $100 to the Democratic Party was a special kind of “Fuck you” to receive after doing my due diligence.
Congratulations! You’ve successfully pissed off one of the only young and active participants in the American political landscape LEFT willing to hear you out with your belittling and guilt-tripping. If you all really think this sort of thing will make the kids want to get out and vote, you’re delusional. Young people will not vote for you so long as you treat us like last week’s garbage in one moment and then expect us to save your asses from the brink of fascism (again) in the next. Nor will we continue to swallow the way things have always been like the biggest spoonful of cherry cough syrup.
The Presidential Debate from a few weeks ago, as well as the Democratic Party’s piss-poor attempts to brush President Biden’s glaring health issues under the rug, are equally out-of-touch. We can’t Weekend at Bernie’s this election. The Supreme Court has taken a nosedive into far-right, Christian Nationalism. The civil rights of every non-white and non-cis-het person are under attack by the “morality” police. Corporate profits and interests are somehow still more important than the livelihoods and futures of your children and grandchildren.
We can’t even successfully destress from the turmoil of our world without paying $20 for a single cocktail or watching the Mayor of New York City close every “un-licensed” weed dispensary. Even if we tried to refrain, stay home, and save money, we face even more criticism from our elders who spent their youth throwing caution to the wind because they could afford to.
We can’t afford to throw caution to the wind. We can’t afford anything.
You can call us lazy, entitled, spoiled, sick, and any other negative adjective you want to, but at some point, you must wake up and see what your parenting, technology, and systems created. What happened to us happened on your watch. You must recognize that we exist because you fostered the circumstances. We’re just trying to learn how to live with them.
We’re not mad, just disappointed.
Resources
“New Rule: Okay, Zoomer” Real Time with Bill Maher
iGen by Jean Twenge
The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt
“Gen Z driving increase in fast fashion returns” from Circular Online
“At N.Y.U., Students Were Failing Organic Chemistry. Who Was to Blame?” from The New York Times
“Is This The End of Reading?” from The Chronicle of Higher Education