100 years from now philosophers, theorists, anthropologists and other smartypants will be trying to define this generation. Much like the horrendous TIME and New York Times articles written by olds about millennial narcissism, laziness and selfie loathing, I imagine we’ll be reduced to over-interneted morons raised during a time where our bandwidth was more valuable currency than our empty bank accounts. Instead of allowing mentally wrinkled baby boomers to define our generation, I figured why not pull a Lena Dunham and define it on my own?
There are lots of ways to discuss this generation. We were born into a horrible economy, with unlimited wifi, unlimited debt and Facebook. We’re ambitious but don’t have much to show for it—most of us will live at home until we’re twenty-five, most won’t find a job in our trained field until then, and most will remain in debt for their entire lives. We’re post-prejudice and still ignorant—Black, White, purple, green, gay, straight, anything in between, we don’t care (but that’s the problem we don’t care)— we’ve got Black friends and blackfaces. We define ourselves by what we like: fashion, television, movies, film, music, fandoms. We define ourselves by our “likes,” as in how many did that status get? We contain multitudes and overloads of information. All at once we’re the smartest (We didn’t need a Beyoncé song to teach us about feminism!) and dumbest (We aren’t giving up Pretty Little Liars either.) we’ve ever been and thus, the most interesting. We’re the future.