Until this summer, I could not fathom why my mother hated "Forrest Gump" (1994) so intensely. Despising that film was tantamount to writing off "Full House" (1987−1995), which she also did with ease (though arguably with more reason — Bob Saget is a jerk).
Exposed to Forrest (Tom Hanks) at an early age, I associated the character with only the most admirable of traits: He was compassionate, innocent, honest and so charmingly Southern. Much like the rest of the American movie−going population, I had glorified Forrest as an admirable expression of humanity and an accurate representation of the second half of the 20th century. His encounter with Elvis, service in Vietnam and flirtations with coke addicts all fit my preconceived notions of the decades preceding my birth. It was easy to assume the fleeting portraits painted by "Forrest Gump" were accurate depictions of previous eras, and I was in no hurry to dig any deeper into history.
My mother maintained, however, that these "portraits" were closer to caricatures than masterpieces. Sitting through a fragment of the movie, she would exclaim, "How can you summarize the '60s in half an hour? I can't willingly accept this as my generation's experience." At the time, I ignored her grumblings of discontent, chalking it up to the continued embittered attitude shared by all baby boomers; it's not easy hitting the halfway mark in life at the same time that Lady Gaga is just getting warmed up.
I had no way of knowing what wisdom her "grumblings" held until the emergence of one crucial article this summer. In mid−August, Robin Marantz Henig endeavored to explain why 20−somethings are lazy, unmotivated, fearful, unsuccessful … ahem.
Perhaps those are not her exact words. At any rate, her article, published in The New York Times Magazine on Aug. 22 and suggestively titled "What Is It About 20−Somethings?," painted a psychological and social picture of our own generation as one that is pushing back the milestones of adulthood. Delaying the socially accepted "timetable" of adulthood by marrying, securing stable jobs and producing babies later in life, the 20−somethings of today are under scrutiny for taking too long to grow up. In an effort to explain why, labeling an entire generation seems to be the easiest course of action.
Generational branding and stereotyping are not new cultural phenomena, but they are certainly receiving renewed attention with the emergence of Henig's article. Responses to the claims made against 20−somethings have shown up in publications ranging from popular and well−known media sources like The Atlantic Monthly to our very own Tufts Daily. The article's heavy emphasis on developmental psychology has garnered deserved criticism — can we write off the effects of the economic recession and unique social climate so quickly? Would any Tufts student, for that matter, ever admit to wanting to move back to their parents' house indefinitely? There are glaring holes in the article's explanation.
Hesitance to label and explain an entire generation's habits should mirror our caution in teaching about current events: Few classes at the high school level attempt to teach the events surrounding — and including — the 9/11 attacks, citing the recent nature of these events as the primary difficulty in doing so. It is nearly impossible to know with certainty which political, social and economic factors play the largest role in current events, though educated suggestions are always fair game. To explain the behavior of an entire subset of the population still in the throes of their "emerging adulthood" woes seems a little premature.
Why are we in such a hurry to explain away a generation? Leave the '60s alone, Forrest, and we'll refrain from stereotyping Generation Y.
