During the first lockdown of 2020, I binged watched Mad Men. It’s a slow-burn television masterpiece with writing so sharp it could slice bread. The seven seasons kept me company through the second and third lockdowns until I was convinced I was living in the 1960s myself and picked up a whiskey habit.
Three years later, I’m back in the Mad Men universe because, let’s face it, staying at home with a baby sometimes feels like a lockdown (no shade, little bubby). The nice thing this time is that since I already know what happens, I can focus on how it unfolds – and there’s so much to unpack!
Like just last week, this one dialogue, in particular, stood out to me. Dr. Faye Miller, a psychologist working with the ad agency, was speaking to Don Draper, the creative head and protagonist of the show, and in casual conversation, summarizes what she calls ‘our deepest conflict’:
We’re both in the same business. It’s about helping people somehow to sort out their deepest conflict. In a nutshell, it all comes down to “what I want versus what’s expected of me.”
This got me thinking about my love for labels and their tendency to become self-fulfilling prophecies. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been interested in how generations are classified. I love reading about The Silent Generation, or how ‘Boomers’ came to be. I love learning about the events that defined the subsequent Gens X, Y, and Z.
It’s an easy way to make sense of what people want vs. what’s expected of them. These labels had few nuances, sure. But they were a convenient way to digest history and figure out why people responded the way they did. So today, I’m gonna explore whether it makes sense to use generational labels to understand this ‘deepest conflict’ and figure out whether I should find a new lens or stick with this one.
Please come with me for the ride?
Boxes, boxes everywhere but not a single think
If you grew up during the Buzzfeed quiz era, my guess is you love labels too. Your ideal bachelorette destination is Ibiza. Your holiday personality is a go-getter. You’re such a Rachel Green.
Or if you were a pretentious pseudo-intellectual like me, you wanted to know your Myers Briggs type. I’m an ENFP that transitioned to an INFP – hit me up if you can relate. Or maybe you found out what your DISC profile was. You sure as hell know your love language. I’m all about ‘touchy-feely’ and ‘quality time’ because they couldn’t straight-up call me needy.
The bottom line is that our brains love putting things into boxes. It’s a convenient way to make sense of what would otherwise be an endless amount of data. But when it comes to generational cohorts (or even Buzzfeed quiz results), do these boxes make sense? Do they hold up under scrutiny, or are they just another way to perpetuate stereotypes?
Many people have been poking at these generational labels, including a bunch of academics (170 to be precise) that signed a letter written by Phillip Cohen to Pew Research, expressing some healthy skepticism on their relevance. They argued that these labels were arbitrary and counterproductive. (Side note Phillip Cohen asked me to sign the letter many times because of my expert-level expertise on all things expert-related, but I had to decline because it’s what I do, I’m a little baddie.)
The thing is, I believe these labels used to make sense in the past because of two reasons,
1. They were created retrospectively, and hindsight is always pretty solid,
and 2. They were created around key world events and not just randomly assigned ranges of years.
Baby boomers were born after a time of peace post-war; the Silent Generation lived through World War II. There’s something powerful about being part of a group that shares everyday experiences and struggles, whether it’s navigating the job market during a recession or adapting to a world forever changed by a pandemic, dalgona coffee, and Mad Men binge-watches.
Where do we draw the line between acknowledging the value of generational labels vs. choosing the lazy way out by relying on them as a crutch? Or worse, letting them turn into marketing gimmicks that we use to define ourselves when there are millions of better ways to do so.
The three musketeers of generational labels
I don’t know what a musketeer is. I just know that it’s a nice thing to throw in whenever there are three of something.
I consider this guy called Bobby Duffy the authority on generational thinking because he wrote some really great books on the subject, along with this brilliant New York Times article. He says that the concept of generational thinking involves considering three different things:
Period effects: Changes that occur across all age groups in a given time in response to a major event. The kind of stuff that ruins everyone’s day, regardless of age. For example, how we suddenly all started washing our hands more during a pandemic. Or how the phrase ‘unprecedented times’ became a regular part of our vocabulary.
Or how millennials became seriously pessimistic about the prospects of owning property because of a crappy economic situation. Or how we all perfected our Zoom call face. Those are the effects of the period that was the pandemic – period effects.
Life-cycle effects: Changes that occur as people hit certain mainstream milestones. Stuff like leaving home for college or a job, finding a spouse, or having kids. It applies even to more nuanced things, like the fact that people have more health complications as they age, regardless of which generation they belong to. These are effects of life as it cycles on by – lifecycle effects.
Cohort effects: Finally, these are changes that occur when people are part of a certain generation (or cohort) because of common starting conditions. This should technically be the least vague-sounding effect but a common start doesn’t mean the rest of the journey looks the same.
Duffy points out that generational labels tend to focus only on cohort effects, and miss out on the other two-thirds of the equation. That’s when the stereotypes and generalizations seem to make less sense. For example, to say millennials spend too much on Starbucks and avocado toast and therefore can’t afford to own a home ignores the period effect (economic crapshow) and lifecycle effect (the fact that people are moving out of their parent’s homes later because they’re less financially stable because, see above, period effect).
Or another example – Gen Z is depressed because they spend all their time comparing themselves to others on social media. This ignores the period effect of a pandemic during their formative years, and smartphone/social media zeitgeist. It also ignores the life-cycle effect of perhaps attending school/college online instead of in-person.
While generational labels may be appealing, we should recognize that they only paint a small part of the picture. We need to consider how attitudes change over time in response to major events, along with how people change as they age.
Why I think these labels often miss the mark
Generational labels are like astrology for people that are into sociology.
Generational labels are like the fortune cookies of demographics: A bit of vague wisdom everyone can relate to but shouldn’t be taken too seriously.
Generational labels are like a game of musical chairs: Everyone’s scrambling to find their seat, but nobody really knows where to sit.
Generational labels are like trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. Rather than finding the right piece, we fill in the gaps with our assumptions and biases.
Generational labels are like the name tags you get at a work conference: They’re meant to give people an easy way to identify and connect with each other, but we rarely look at name tags and just go “Ah hello Cheryl!” because that would be really, really strange.
Generational labels can be helpful and harmful. While they may provide a simple way to talk about complex social forces, they can also lead to oversimplified conversations and stereotype-based explanations for very real structural problems. I wrote a blog on how millennial and Gen Z behaviors differ online which eludes to some of these notions too.
People experience history quite differently based on where they live, their background, their privilege, and their circumstances. Grouping everyone together by birth year often misses this important context.
In this rollercoaster that we’re all on, some of us sit in the front row, and others sit in the back. We’re all going through the same twists and turns, but our experiences are different based on where we’re sitting. And while we can’t ignore the rollercoaster entirely, we can at least acknowledge that not everyone is having the same ride.
Some people stand to gain from the labels
In recent years, labels have become even less meaningful as demographic factors shift, and because people hate being pigeonholed. Fun fact, the normal meaning of ‘generation’ implies a person giving birth to another person. But today, people are marrying later and having children later. So technically, the range and cut-off for each generation SHOULD be getting longer and longer right? Nope, turns out it’s getting shorter instead.
Why? Because the labels don’t make sense and the world is changing too rapidly. As Malcolm Harris, author of a book called ‘Kids These Days’ points out, the people most interested in naming generations are often those trying to sell things to that group. Picking a generational label and making yourself a subject matter expert on it can be an incredibly lucrative pursuit.
If you can convince people that a particular generational cohort is so unique and complex and weird, then obviously everyone that’s trying to sell stuff to the weirdos will pay you millions to come in and help them. For example, Neil Howe, one of the people who coined the term ‘Millennial’ approximately thirty years ago (ouch!) has since made a career out of consulting, speaking, and writing about millennials.
Things have gone awry in the last few generations – one generation ends up naming the next, like parents naming their children. And while things usually turn out okay in the parent-kid example, I find that when cohort labels are imposed by outsiders and not chosen by the people they’re supposed to describe – the descriptions are tainted with a bit of condescension.
Despite their apparent flaws, generational labels stick around because they’re brilliant marketing tools. More importantly, they tap into our human desire for simple narratives that help us make sense of the world around us. Why is someone demotivated at work? They’re a millennial of course! Not because they’re crippled by debt and existential dread, and paid minimum wage.
Here’s why I’m really interested in generational labels
It’s not because of Mad Men. The one reason I’m interested in generational labels – actually, there are two reasons:
Reason #1:
I enjoy the sociology part of it. It helps me understand history and culture better. Which helps me understand human behavior better. Which is fun and makes for great cocktail party conversation.
Reason #2:
You’d think that because the labels we have now are more arbitrary and vague that they’d become less prevalent but it’s the opposite. People want to be associated with something, and these labels give them a sense of belonging. Or for some non-conformists, it gives them a way to set themselves apart. I’m not like *other millennials.*
Marketing gurus, consultants, and noise-makers keep dissecting generational labels, and the more they do, the more they legitimize them. This means that generational labels aren’t going anywhere despite how nonsensical they might be.
–– Ooops THERE ARE THREE REASONS ––
Reason #3:
(Time for some real talks)
I’ve always wanted my personality to be relevant. Or trendy. Or in vogue. Or cool. You get the idea. I tend to care less about whether my jeans are in fashion or my makeup style is popular – but as far as my personality goes, I find myself desperately wanting to stay current. It’s not about being young, it’s about relevant. And it’s possible to separate the two when you’re able to stay current.
Here’s an actual screenshot of my search history one afternoon. I shared it with my Gen Z sister-in-law (I can’t remember what the rest of the conversation was about.)
Maybe this desire to know what’s cool and adapt my behavior accordingly is driven by the reality that I’m getting older, and most of my millennial cohort no longer defines what’s cool anymore. Maybe it’s because I relate with both Gen Z and millennials, but that’s perfectly normal. As I reflect on the conflict of ‘what we want versus what’s expected of us’, I can’t help but recognize the power that labels hold over our sense of self and our behaviors.
Do I think these labels are a good way to understand preferences and behavior – in retrospect only, yes. Do I think they give people a warm fuzzy sense of community? Yes, I do. Do I think they cause unnecessary animosity among groups of people that have more in common than they realize? Heck yeah. Do I think that people will eventually call BS and quit paying attention to pointless labels– My guess is no.
Let’s continue the conversation?
- Do you worry about whether your personality is ‘up to date’?
- Have you watched Mad Men yet?
- Why haven’t you watched Mad Men yet?
- Geez!
- What are your thoughts on generational labels – do you find them patronizing or are they helpful?
Unfinished Conversations 
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