Ever since I became old enough to go on the Internet — around age 11 in an era before children were born with an iPad attached to their hip — my life has been a never-ending ride through nostalgia land. The first social media platform I ever joined was Facebook circa 2013, and I immediately started following pages that posted about the TV shows I loved to watch in the 2000s. When I went on Tumblr, I inevitably fell in love with 1990s grunge and cinema, which dominated the platform at the time. Everyone on social media seemed to be longing for a time that was no longer, a time before many of us were even born.
I’m not the only Gen Zer who has spent most of her life infatuated with the 1990s and early 2000s. In 2023, 37% of those in my generation felt nostalgic for the media of the era and 56% for the 2000s, according to research firm GWI. On social media, terms like “Y2K,” originally used to refer to the widespread concern that a computer bug would shut down all computers once the year turned 2000, have now resurfaced to refer to the fashion of the time. Of course, Gen Zers have given Y2K fashion their own twist, pairing clothing from the era with modern makeup techniques. Additionally, videos of high schools in the ‘90s, often captioned “school before social media,” regularly go viral on TikTok, and several movies set in the 2000s have been made in the past five years (e.g., Lady Bird, Timecut, Turning Red and Y2K). We’re constantly being told that the past was better, and escaping this narrative as a Gen Zer is nearly impossible.
There are many eras that I enjoy, like the 1970s and sometimes the 1980s, yet the limitations I would’ve faced as a woman of color in western society keep me from longing for them the same way I do for the 1990s and 2000s. While these decades were still plagued by even more intolerance than we have today, I still feel nostalgia for them. Part of it is because the media of the time reminds me of my childhood, a time with fewer digital distractions that I actually lived through. But, lately, I feel nostalgic for the 1990s and 2000s because it seems like back then, I would have had more chances of being rewarded for doing what I love — journalism.
After moving to New York City to pursue a master’s in magazine writing, one of my first moves was to start watching 2000s chick flicks where the main character lived in Manhattan and worked for a successful publication (think How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, 13 Going on 30 and Dear Juliet). Of course these movies’ depictions of what working in journalism is like was exaggerated even for their time (let’s be real — there’s no way Andy’s essay on bringing peace to Tajikistan with basically no sources would’ve been successful), but there’s still something inspirational about seeing these women walk into a physical newsroom daily and be able to pay their rent without picking up one or two side hustles. In reality, my experience in journalism is one where having a physical newsroom to work in even twice a week is a privilege, and where getting generous pay for the endless hours you put into your work is practically unheard of.
I long for a pre-COVID age, when most newsrooms were still open. I long for a pre-social media age, before most people resorted to quick, substance-lacking posts to be informed. And, of course, I long for a time when politicians didn’t abuse their authority to discourage the public from getting their news from reputable, fact-checked, expert sources.
Watching the world change through media and trends can be fun. I enjoy wearing styles from the 2000s and 1990s without being married to the socially accepted sexism and racism of the time. I’m currently watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997) for the first time and I’m baffled by the casual sexist remarks made by one of the main male characters, Xander, which are often played for laughs (although sometimes it’s intentionally used as an example of toxic masculinity). We can leave this problematic behavior behind. But, why can’t we keep the best parts of the past, like fair pay for young journalists and less compulsive social media usage, while still moving forward? I know we need to move on, but progress shouldn’t mean forgetting what was worth holding on to.