Who are Boomers, Millennials and Gen Z? And why are we talking so about it?

There was a time when the term “Millennials” was inaccurately used as a synonym for “young people.” For a while, no one paid much attention to this because the two terms aligned. But as Millennials grew older, a new label was needed for the generation born since the mid-1990s, and so the new definition for that generation defined with the letter Z emerged. Before the Millennials, there was Generation X, and prior to that, the Baby Boomers. Today, the term “Boomer” is often used to describe those perceived as out of touch with modern trends − hence the viral expression “Ok, Boomer,” which has practically become a meme.

Let’s clarify: Baby Boomers are the generation born in the aftermath of World War II, between 1946 and 1964. Generation X refers to those born between 1965 and 1980, Millennials between 1981 and 1996, and Generation Z from 1997 to 2012. And finally − for now − there’s Generation Alpha, born from 2013 to the present and extending for a few more years.

As you can see, all generations, except Baby Boomers – which has a span of 18 years − are defined by a 15-year range. But why? It’s important to recognize that these labels − which aim to group people based on supposedly shared social and cultural sensibilities − are largely arbitrary. In terms of music, movies, fashion, and slang, a Millennial born in 1982 likely has more in common with a Generation X born in 1980 than with someone from their own generation born in 1996. 

This generational division is also a relatively recent phenomenon, and it’s not, unfortunately, without complications. The letter “X” used to describe the generation that grew up in the 1980s and 1990s was coined by Canadian author Douglas Coupland in his cult classic novel “Generation X“ (1991, recently reprinted by Accent).

However, as the word “generation” implies, the roots of this concept are biological. As a fascinating essay in The New Yorker points out, “in a kinship structure, parents and their siblings constitute ‘the older generation’; offspring and their cousins are ‘the younger generation.’ The time it takes, in our species, for the younger generation to become the older generation is traditionally said to be around thirty years.”

By the 19th century, this purely biological concept began to take on a social dimension, as people started grouping generations within specific timeframes to better understand their shared socio-cultural characteristics. This, in turn, helped track the political, artistic, and cultural shifts that defined different historical periods.

“For some thinkers, generational change was the cause of social and historical change,” as The New Yorker notes. “New generations bring to the world new ways of thinking and doing, and weed out beliefs and practices that have grown obsolete. This keeps society rejuvenated.” Others believe the complete opposite, that is that it is the social and political changes that shape the practices of each generation.

Be that as it may, this changes little from our perspective. What is important for us is that in the early 20^th century, another crucial sociological concept began to take shape: the idea of “youth.” At first glance, this might seem odd, since youth has always existed. However, before the 20^th century, it was purely a biological stage of life. With the sharp increase in schooling − which expanded dramatically in the Western world during the first half of the last century − young people started gathering and interacting regularly all the way throughout high school, giving rise to the first “youth culture,” something previously non-existent. To periodically redefine the traits of youth cultures, the concept of generations as we understand them today was developed − somehow settling on a 15-year span for each.

Having clarified this − or so I hope − the real question isn’t whether generations truly exist − spoiler: they don’t − but whether this generational division is useful for understanding social phenomena. In this case, and with all the aforementioned caveats, the answer is yes. It is useful in various ways: they help individuals feel connected to a group that contrasts with the one before and after them; they provide sociologists with an (imperfect) tool to categorize certain trends; and they offer politicians and their strategists a way to analyze issues important to different age groups.

But perhaps the most significant beneficiary of generational labels, as The New Yorker points out, is the marketing world. Through generations, marketers have found an incredibly efficient way to segment audiences and consumers, targeting them not just by demographics but also, for instance, by cultural, technological, and political sensibilities.

So, who am I? I was born in 1982, so I often consider myself an “old Millennial,” though sometimes I feel more like a “young Gen X” − after all, I grew up with Fist of the North Star and the Wu-Tang Clan. To make things even more confusing, I suggest borrowing the concept of “ascendants” from astrology.

For example: if you were born in 1989, you’re a “pure” Millennial. If you were born in 2005, you’re Gen Z, no doubt about it. But when the lines between generations blur, it can be helpful to lean on this idea of an ascendant. In my case, I’m a Millennial with a Gen X ascendant − and I finally feel like I’ve found my generational identity.