One of the really insidious things about our late capitalist dystopia is the preponderance of articles and “hot takes” about how Millennials Are Killing X Industry. I mean, on one level it’s hilarious– the implication that we have some kind of duty to buy diamonds or whatever– but it’s also indicative of an aspect of our culture that I find really troubling.
Maybe it’s because I see the parallels in my own relationships with my parents, with the way they communicate with me, and with the experiences I’ve had as an adult. Ambivalent doesn’t seem to fully encompass the way I feel when I think about my family. My parents raised me, but they also made it very clear at all times how grateful I should be for… I guess, not being abused the way that they were by their parents. It’s a toxic attitude to have towards your children, and I see it reflected in the way the word millennial gets thrown around in the media.
I don’t have kids. I don’t want them. I know that there’s a limit to how much I can understand about parenting. That being said, I do know quite a bit about being parented. A lot of my behavior as an adult has been shaped by a basic level of empathy that I feel like my parents lack. Whether that’s specific to us or whether it’s some kind of generational attitude isn’t clear, but whenever I see articles about how Millennials Aren’t Buying Houses, framed as if that’s some sort of character flaw, I think it’s not just us.
I wonder whether it’s specific to baby boomers or whether it’s the age-old “kids these days” kind of thing that quite literally dates back as far as recorded human history. Is this apparent resentment towards youth and its perceived opportunities something that just happens with aging, or is it somehow more damaging and omnipresent now that we have the internet? Are boomers just perpetuating a cycle of youth:potential∴adulthood:regret, or is there something more specific going on?
I guess I could ask my mother. We don’t talk very often. I swing back and forth between feeling guilty and remembering all of the times she’s hurt me deeply (and there have been many). I feel like a Bad Child for not making more of an effort, but I remember how often I’ve tried to talk to her about things like my childhood, about our turbulent relationship, and how often she’s responded with things like, “Well, I did the best I could” or “I’m no better off than you are.” It hurts because it shuts down an attempt to communicate, and it hurts because I can sense resentment simmering under the surface of parental love. It’s ugly. And it must be painful.
In general, I don’t require the validation of my parents to recover and to process my issues. But it does hurt when someone says they love you, while at the same time refusing to take responsibility for the ways they’ve hurt you. I don’t think that’s a generation thing, by the way. I think lots of people of all ages lack the emotional maturity to acknowledge when they’ve hurt someone. But the wall I come up against when I hear my mother say those things feels a lot like the barrier I sense when I read thinkpieces about how millennials are abandoning traditions, killing industries, making new genders. It’s a lack of understanding, but more than that, it’s a lack of interest in understanding.
Does this rigidity of thought develop as you get older? Conventional wisdom would seem to say so, but I don’t buy it. The older I get, the wiser I get, and the less I know. I like to believe I’m a much better person than I was 20 years ago. I’m definitely kinder. More adaptable, more flexible, and a lot happier. I’m old enough now to be baffled by stuff The Kids are into, but I don’t feel threatened by it. As long as they’re not hurting anyone, who gives a shit?
I don’t feel like my parents share this philosophy, and I’m unsure why. I don’t think it’s generational so much as… cultural. It’s not really about age so much as how willing we are to ask questions. I think it’s rooted in education, in class, in geography, in religion (or lack thereof). I think about the way my parents view the world, the ideas they focus on when they talk about current events or about history, and I think about the way I view it. As far as I can see, their perspective is based on insecurity, fear, and the illusion of scarcity. The idea that there is only so much, so we mustn’t let anyone have it who doesn’t deserve it, because they’ll just ruin it. The feeling that our opportunities have passed us by, and all we have left now is the march towards death. The inability to recognize how damaging this attitude is, not just to others, but to ourselves.
I used to feel this way, so I understand it all too well. It’s loneliness. It’s isolation. It’s trauma. It’s the idea that you are the only one who knows what it’s like to feel this pain. It’s the illusion that despite the billions of people on this planet, you’re somehow alone in this world. You have to look out for yourself because you can be damn sure no one else will. And it’s just… wrong. It’s utterly, completely, totally wrong.
If you broke your leg, you wouldn’t say to yourself, “Well, I guess I’ve just got to live with this now.” You’d go to a hospital– or at least, I hope you would. But this is what we do to ourselves when we hurt emotionally, when we struggle with mental illness or trauma. Instead of asking for help, we resign ourselves to misery and pain. We don’t have to do that, and we don’t have to perpetuate the fear and cruelty that spring from it.
We have a choice.
Tabitha's Island 