“Millennials drive me crazy. They’re so whiny. And entitled. They’re ruining the country,” she says. “But not you,” she adds quickly, “You’re an old soul.”
You Don’t Get to Say that I’m Not Included So You Don’t Have to Rethink Your Bias
Cut the crap.
I am a millennial by birth year. And you think I’m a decent person.
Both of these things are true.
And I’m not an exception. Not some mystical creature — The Millennial Who Is Diligent and Responsible. We don’t live on some enchanted island. There are tons of us. We are everywhere. We are fine. Calm down.
In recent years, millennials have become the scapegoats for everything — we’re too busy pampering ourselves to buy houses. We’re destroying dating with the trend of the week: Breadcrumbing, haunting, cushioning. We’ve set fire to courtship. We burned the carriages and satin gloves of Jane Austen. And we’re Netflix and Chilling.
We are basically the worst. And like all scapegoats, we’re caught in double binds: Everyone should go to college, but wages are gonna be frozen while tuition costs climb and good luck with those huge student loans. You should be ambitious and show initiative but don’t you fucking dare ask for what you’re worth.
“Except not you,” a colleague says, smiling sweetly. “Not you.”
And a lot of us have even started doing this to ourselves: “Don’t call me a millennial,” we say.
Like there’s something wrong with it.
F*** You, I’m a Millennial
You know what?
I’m a millennial. I’m taking it back. Millennial has become a slur. A way to disparage and shame a generation that has found ourselves coming to age in an economically challenging and technologically dynamic time.
Like other slurs — cunt, slut, pervert, queer, I’m reappropriating it. Millennial is not an insult. It’s not disparaging. It’s accurate.
I’m a millennial. And I’m gonna wear it like a badge of honor.