Reports of Gen Z’s Lameness Are Greatly Exaggerated
A recent college graduate dispels generational myths.
I graduated from Yale in May. For the past four years, I’ve existed in an oasis filled with 18-24 year olds whose primary responsibilities include schoolwork, extracurricular activities, and making friends. College often felt like it was folding into itself—I submitted problem sets the night before a new one was assigned, I danced to the same songs in the same rooms over and over again, and thought I deserved to know everyone else’s business.
It’s funny to think that I became an adult in an environment so siphoned off from reality. The speeches at my commencement ceremony kept referring to “the real world,” and how we’d have to retain the curiosity, grace, and compassion we learned at Yale when we faced the harshness of life. I did feel very protected within the ivy-laced, ironclad gates, where only a student ID could grant someone permission to pass through. I felt understood by the people around me—my peers, who were in the same stage of life, and my professors, who were well-practiced in dealing with our awkward, trying, burgeoning personhood. As I step out into a less forgiving place (New York City), I want to address some of the many misconceptions about my generation in hopes of forging mutual understanding.
1. Gen Z is entitled and out of touch
The summer after my first year of college, I worked on a podcast called “The Future of Work” where my boss interviewed business leaders, entrepreneurs, and investors about their predictions for the post-pandemic professional landscape.
I was a guest on one of the episodes, and we talked about Gen Z’s demands: to find jobs that align with our values, to have the option to log on from home, and to enjoy a semblance of work-life balance. These stipulations could be read as indicators of laziness, entitlement, or disrespect for how it’s been done by older people (such as the investment bankers who put in 100-hour work weeks and now expect their junior analysts to do the same). But to me this just feels like asking for a dose of sanity in the workforce, and is very different from forgoing a work ethic altogether. I’ve found that when my friends at Yale are presented with a shortcut, they consistently choose the more time-consuming, arduous option. This could partly be out of pride, but also because we are well aware that real learning and growth only comes through practice and effort.
A few weeks ago, a friend told the dinner table that she’d heard of a high school senior who had used ChatGPT to complete all of their assignments since ninth grade. A machine had spun out every essay, homework assignment, and study guide. Her teachers had no original, human material of hers to compare it to—there had never been a time in her school career without AI-generated language—so she was never caught. All four of us listening to this story were shocked and thankful that we had made it through high school without the shadowy presence of AI making an already competitive environment even more stressful. At Yale, I can’t think of a single friend who has relied on ChatGPT to write an essay for them, and the stories of people who do use AI tools to simulate their own analyses are gossipy and borderline cruel.
This goes as well for the myth that our generation doesn’t read. I read The Atlantic article about how professors have stopped assigning long-form text to accommodate our shrinking attention spans. In my experience, this has simply not been the case. It may be more true for mandatory courses, but I’ve found that self-selecting students are invested in the English classes they choose and excited to read thoroughly. Sophomore year, I read Moby Dick as part of an introductory American literature course. Junior year, I read Dante’s Divine Comedy in translation. One of my favorite classes was a seminar on contemporary Korean fiction, where we were assigned a new book to read every week. When we met, we’d spend two hours dissecting the language, and the discussion could only be fruitful if everyone had done the reading. Why would you waste your precious time at school to cheat yourself out of becoming a stronger thinker and writer?
I believe that the work ethic we have applies to the adult world as well. Speaking for my friends, we’re prepared to start on the bottom rung of the professional ladder. My friend who wants to direct movies is sorting letters in the mail room at a Hollywood talent agency. Another, an aspiring museum curator, is sitting at the front desk of an art gallery in Chelsea. If making money were our only incentive, we’d embark on get-rich-quick schemes like buying bitcoin or dropshipping on Amazon, but my peers on the whole are more interested in creative expression and community impact than living a life of material luxury. We aren’t lazy, but we are intentional about where our energy is going. We seek work that incorporates balance, and want to feel fulfilled across multiple dimensions.
2. Gen Z is screen-addicted
The pervasive nature of the internet has made it easier than ever to over-consume content and live in a fixed state of hyperstimulation. A common misconception is that Gen Z is blithely living most of our lives online—texting with friends, consuming media, and scrolling through potential partners and jobs and restaurants without ever encountering them in person. There is an entire Gen Z vocabulary—slangy, ironic, self-conscious—that ensures communication happens only within a bubble of the people who understand it.
But as I’ve grown up, I’ve become increasingly suspicious of technology. Since high school, my average daily screen time on my phone has been two hours. I regularly get the urge to delete all my apps and throw away my devices. To fight the digital rot, my friends and I take excursions to the closest lakes and beaches and trails to remind ourselves of how important and beautiful it is to spend time in nature. One of these trips is fresh in my mind. During the week between the last day of class and the beginning of graduation, eight of my friends and I drove thirty minutes outside of New Haven to Sperry Falls. We hiked through the woods to a small waterfall, where we jumped off cliffs into clear blue water. I had no service, and I sat for a long time on the edge of a rock thinking about my friendships, memories, and what it means to leave college for good. I’ll miss my weekly runs to East Rock Park, where I could see the entire city from above, and the air was green and clear. I love the internet—I think it has immense potential for connection—but I start to feel sick when I spend too much time as the virtual version of myself.
Gen Z also wants to escape dating app culture! In the latter half of my Yale career, there was a boom in the setup market. Everyone I knew was setting each other up on blind (or semi-blind) dates. In the fall, I went on dates with five different people I’d seen around but never formally met. My friends all agree that dating apps are the worst—they’re tiresome, shallow, and largely unfruitful—but they often become the last resort when all else fails. I am a believer that meeting someone in real life is so much better than on an app because it makes for a sweeter story, chemistry is palpable within five minutes of meeting (instead of engaging in stale texting back-and-forth for weeks), and you likely have something tangible in common already: a mutual friend, a love for the same bookstore, a morning coffee walking route. I see it happening, too! I know couples who have met on trains, in class, and, of course, through blind setups.
3. Gen Z is ideologically homogeneous
At my New York City prep school, “outing oneself” as a Republican mandated your social ostracization, which would provide some evidence for the accusation that our generation is living in a progressive echo chamber. Even now, my closest circle of friends from Yale tends to agree with one another on social and political issues, and most groups on campus seem to consist of people with similar ideologies.
It has been surprising, though, to see relationships form across boundaries: a couple who passionately discuss abortion and religion as it pertains to their personal choices, a friendship between a pro-divestment campus organizer and a future analyst at an investment firm. Gen Z is passionate about their beliefs, but—speaking once again for my immediate cohort—we also recognize that without empathy for the other side, there will be no fair outcome.
Gen Z is often thought of as the disillusioned, disaffected generation. In practice, our generation is the opposite of apathetic. Last year, my spring semester at Yale was defined by on-campus demonstrations by student groups fighting for peace and equality in Israel/Palestine. There were also pro-Israeli counter protests, though smaller in size. It was strange to see someone analyzing Freud’s dream practice in a philosophy class, or playing guitar in a student band, and then watch them yell at their peers through a megaphone, or read a quote attributed to their name on Fox News. The civility and respect that we held for each other as fellow students had been fractured; there was a sharp incision in the Yale bubble that had shielded us from and obstructed our view of the rest of the world. That incision was jarring but it was also an indication that we were both politically engaged and had real meaningful differences dividing us.
This summer, I’m in an intermediate period between finishing school and starting a full-time job, and my future is caught between uncertainty and ambition. I’m twenty-two, and everything feels possible until I am weighed down by the creeping thought that maybe older generations do know better—they’ve seen the cycles repeat over and over, they know not to succumb to blind faith.
Every criticism is derived from a nugget of truth. Maybe we aren’t as prepared for “the real world” as we think we are. But if young people do not remain optimistic, no one will. New York in July is buzzing with energy and movement. I see people my age writing stories, making movies, building businesses, dancing, canvassing, swimming, singing, reading on the train, and talking to strangers. It took me too long to realize that, actually, life is much bigger when you look up from the device that promises to connect you to the rest of the world. I think our generation possesses hope not out of naivety, but because we have to trust in the possibility of a just future in order to unearth it.
Arden Yum writes Ad Hoc, a weekly newsletter covering culture, identity, and the internet. She graduated from Yale with a degree in Cognitive Science in May.
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It's hard to generalize Gen-Z from the report of one recent graduate of Yale, a prestigious university. However, I suspect that in one area graduates of Yale and other prestigious universities differ from graduates of top tier state universities. Most Yale graduates have never done physical labor and do not know people who do physical labor aside from, perhaps, exchanging pleasantries with campus workers. And that is where you get your problems and divisions.
A beautiful post that very much resonates with me, father of 22 year old twins and teacher of amazing college age gen Zers. Well done, Arden!