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Race & Ethnicity

Reflections from a token black friend

"In the past, I've usually stayed quiet on these issues. Often, the pain of diving deep into them was too much to regularly confront."

Reflections from a token black friend

I am regularly the only black kid in the photo. I have mastered the well-timed black joke, fit to induce a guilty "you thought it but couldn't say it" laugh from my white peers. I know all the words to "Mr. Brightside" by the Killers.

I am a token black friend. The black one in the group of white people. This title is not at all a comment on the depth of my relationships; I certainly am blessed to have the friends that I do. But by all definitions of the term, I am in many ways its poster child. And given the many conversations occurring right now around systemic racism, it would feel wrong not to use my position as a respected friend within a multitude of different white communities to contribute to the current dialogue. I believe my story speaks directly to the covert nature of the new breed of racism — its structural side, along with implicit bias — and may prove helpful to many I know who seek a better understanding.


. . .

Growing up, I lived in the inner city of Boston, in Roxbury. I attended school in the suburbs through a program called METCO — the longest continuously running voluntary school desegregation program in the country, which began in the late 1960s. My two siblings and I attended school in Weston, Massachusetts, one of the nation's wealthiest towns. The place quickly became our second home, and alongside Boston, I would count it equally as the place I was raised. All three of us did very well by all standards. We had all been co-presidents of the school, my brother and I were both football captains, and all three of us went on to top-end universities.

For those wondering about the structural side of systemic racism, I'd ask you to consider a few questions. First: Why does METCO still exist? Segregation ended more than 60 years ago, yet there is a still a fully functioning integration program in our state. We haven't come very far at all. Many of our schools remain nearly as segregated as they were in the 1960s.

Second: What is the point? Weston improves its diversity. Without us, most of Weston's students would go through all those years seeing possibly three or four local black faces in their schools (and that's the reality for many white people in this country). As for the Boston students, most of whom are black, they receive a much higher-quality education. Property taxes, a structural form of racism meant to allow segregation to endure, have ensured that while schools have grown increasingly better in our suburbs, the inner-city schools continue to struggle with resources, attendance, and graduation rates.

Lastly: Why was I able to be so successful? A major criticism of the METCO program is that it doesn't produce better outcomes for its students than the city schools, so it just acts as a brain drain from the city. I am an exception. I held leadership roles in the school, was an accomplished athlete and student, and went on to what was, at the time, the best public university in the country. What's easily overlooked, though, is how my circumstances differed from the average student of color coming from the city. I came from a two-parent household. My mother was able to work from home our entire life, so she could take us places when we needed. Compared to other black families, we were relatively well-off financially, which afforded me a car in high school and thus allowed me to be highly involved. I had a stable church and home life and food security. This combination is uncommon for a young black kid in America.

In a piece my brother wrote reflecting on the current situation, he considered whether black privilege was real. He and I have both considered how our differences from the common story of black people made us "privileged." For instance, our immersion in the white community, our success in school and now in the workforce, and the fact that we grew up in a middle-class black household (highly uncommon in Boston) led us to believe we had somehow transcended the plight of the black man. Yet, what scared us both so much as we watched the videos of Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd is that we clearly had not. In both cases, it could have been us. There is no escape. There is no level of success that will spare you. We are black men, and that is all that matters to some.

. . .

In the past, I've usually stayed quiet on these issues. Often, the pain of diving deep into them was too much to regularly confront. College changed many of my attitudes, but none more so than my full acceptance that racism is alive and well around me.

In college, I sought out more black friends, choosing to room with three people of color because I wanted to grow more connected to that side of my identity. The room afforded me a space to appreciate aspects of black culture and share stories of anger with people who looked like me. Many of my clearest interactions with racism occurred in college. It was there that I began to confront knowledge that roused more frustration within me, such as the war on drugs and its history as a weapon against black communities — although on every college visit, I watched people ingest more drugs and smoke with more impunity than I ever saw in the hood.

The length of my journey makes me inclined to be more patient with others in this process, as it's taken me this much time to wake up. We should all be reasonably patient with one another, but I would encourage individuals to not be patient with themselves and to treat these issues with the urgency they deserve. The anger on display over the past week should exhibit the need for change.

. . .

So many of my experiences growing up speak to implicit biases against black people. I think of how quickly others in school assumed I had a single mother, simply because my father, much like many of theirs, didn't visit school often. Or the number of times I've heard "you are so articulate" in a conversation where all I've shared is my name and other small personal details. Standing alone, each instance may seem insignificant or merely a compliment to my upbringing and education. However, the frequency with which I've received that comment tells otherwise. It reveals how a black kid speaking properly is surprising, and further, how it makes me appear worthy of sharing the person's company.

I also realized that the token black friend is not spared the realities facing a black kid from the hood. One morning, while getting ready for school, I heard my mother scream outside, followed by my brother sprinting down our stairs. In our 150-year-old home, every quick step down the stairs resembled a drumbeat. I followed my brother to find my mom standing at her car, visibly shaken, telling us, "He's running up the street. He took my phone." My brother and I, both barefoot, sprinted up our street and two others until we caught the culprit. I jumped on his back to stop him until my brother caught up, at which point Raj chewed him out and we took our stuff back — both too young and inexperienced in the ways of the streets to know we probably should have beat him up. The point is, though, we still had to go to school that day. And I remember being too embarrassed to tell any of my friends about what occurred that morning, thinking it would change for the worse the way they thought about me or where I came from every day.

I started carrying a knife during my junior year of high school. It quickly became a running joke among my core group of friends — whenever someone would say something out of pocket or stupid, we'd say, "Get the knife," and I'd comedically lay it on the table. What those friends definitely didn't know is that I carried the knife because I was afraid I might get jumped making my daily walk from the train station to my house late most evenings. How could my white friends from suburbia ever understand that?

. . .

In the wake of the past week's events, I've reflected on my interactions with the police. These interactions lifted the veil of black privilege I thought existed, though it was likely only afforded to me because of my military affiliation.

I was once pulled over in a cemetery, less than one minute after getting back into my car after visiting a friend's grave, only to be asked, "What are you doing here?" The cop had been parked right by me the entire time, so he obviously just seen me out at a gravestone alone.

"Visiting my friend's grave before heading back to school tomorrow, sir," I said.

The officer's aggressive demeanor changed only after I told him I went to the Naval Academy, at which point we entered a friendly conversation about his days at Norwich. What stuck with me is what he could've done in those cemetery back roads without another living person in sight — no witnesses, no cameras.

Another time, when I'd walked back to my best friend's empty house after a party, I accidentally set off the alarm, bringing the cops buzzing to his door. I wonder if the only reason it went so smoothly is because I quickly identified myself as a member of the military, opening their ears to hear the full story of what was happening. I think of what might've happened if they'd mistaken me, holding my military ID in my hand as I walked out the door, for something else.

It's tough to realize how rarely these possibilities occurred to me when I was younger. When I was pulled over numerous times, often without cause, driving to a hockey game in Weston or parked talking to my white girlfriend, I didn't consider that the cops might have had it against me. When I did witness these biases, I quickly brushed them off as insignificant.

Early in middle school, I arrived to our high school's football game with a group of friends, all white, to find three or four policemen standing by the entrance. I greeted them with a "Good evening, officers," and then quietly said to my friends, "You gotta befriend them so they are on your side later." My buddies thought it was hilarious, and I had succeeded in making the boys laugh. Looking back, I realize they didn't understand that I was speaking to something legitimate. I was no older than 12 or 13, and I already understood that the police would not be inclined to help me. It was only funny to my friends because they'd never had those sorts of conversations.

I think back to when my friends never understood why I wasn't allowed to play with water guns — or any toy guns, for that matter — when I was a boy. I'd be so excited to visit a friend's house and use their airsoft gun in the backyard. I used to get so frustrated when my mom told us it was "too dangerous" for black boys to do that and that someone would mistake it for a real gun. When I was 16, 12-year-old Tamir Rice was shot and killed while playing with a replica toy airsoft gun. I realized my mom was right.

I think of the way the black girls were treated as second rate in high school. Guys rarely tried to talk to them romantically, and if they did, others discussed it with an undertone of comedy. I never felt this way, personally, but didn't realize until college that my silence was compliance. I was participating in denying dignity to the black women around me.

This attitude from my white friends didn't end in high school, either. This past year, I was at a bar in Narragansett, Rhode Island, where I'd quickly befriended one of the guys my friend had brought with him. At one point, I expressed my interest in a girl who had just entered the bar. He asked me to point her out, so I did, also noting that she was black. He responded, "Yeah bro, she's cute, but you could have one of the white girls here!" I questioned his statement, and he realized it didn't fly with me. We eventually moved on and continued the night, but I couldn't get it out of my head. He truly didn't think anything of it when he said it. And he assumed that I would agree with him. To him, the preference for white women was undisputed, so he suggested it unapologetically. It was especially hard for me because, outside of that statement, there was nothing to suggest he was racist. He had treated me with nothing but love and admiration and accepted me into his crew. It was simply ignorance, which had probably been reinforced countless times. That was difficult to wrestle with.

. . .

These attitudes directly contribute to and maintain systemic racism within our society. Our disparate relationships with the police, along with messages sent to the black males when they "speak properly," or to black girls about their inferiority (spoken or unspoken), paint an inaccurate picture of what a black person is supposed to be. These attitudes foster the ignorance and apathy that is so rightly being called out right now. They ensure the survival of this corrupt system.

I think of times when my own ignorance let me buy into the insensitivity shown toward the black struggle, often to induce laughs. During a visit to a Louisiana plantation during my sophomore year of high school, I shamefully recall posing for a picture with a noose around my neck. I remember walking around downtown New Orleans later that evening with it around my friend's neck, me jokingly walking him like a dog. Two black guys on the street, a bit older than us, said to me, "That's not fucking funny, bro." I immediately filled with guilt upon recognizing my stupidity, and I struggle even today to understand what made me think either were permissible at the time. Sharing that story relieves some of the guilt, yes, but it also speaks to how being wrapped up in white teen culture led me to buy into, and even spearhead, the insensitivity that is often exhibited toward issues of black struggle that are incorrectly categorized as "in the past."

If you don't agree, why did none of my white friends call me out for it? Yes, we were young at the time, but I'd ask: Why didn't we know any better? We assumed the pain of that type of racism was dead, but we all just witnessed a modern-day lynching on camera.

Then there are the instances most white people will recognize, though they probably never knew how damaging their words were. Every token black friend can recall the times when a white friend chooses to dub you "the whitest black kid I know." It's based on the way I speak or dress or the things I'm into, and it's a comment on me not fitting the image they have of a black person. When I resist accepting such a title, the white person claims it's a compliment — as if the inherent superiority of whiteness should leave me honored to be counted among their ranks.

More impactfully, it suggests that my blackness is something that can be taken from me. That my identity as a black man fades because I am into John Mayer or I've visited the Hamptons. And further, it assumes that my black identity is not something I am proud of. It ignores the fact that the acculturation and assimilation I experienced growing up with all white friends was not voluntary. It suggests that my blackness is a burden, when in fact, minimizing my blackness was most often my burden. Another example: when I am criticized by my white friends for code-switching when I am with my black friends, just because they don't understand the slang and how it connects black people to a common culture.

The biases are evident; you just need to pay attention. Believe me, because I wasn't spared from buying into them myself. It wasn't until I got to college that I began to realize how much subconscious effort I'd put into being as unstereotypically black as possible. Whether in my choices concerning the way I dress, speak, or even dance, I noticed that, without realizing it, I'd habitually quelled aspects of my black identity. And based on that ability, I consistently inflated my self-worth and considered myself superior to my fellow black brothers. I had unknowingly bought into the very biases set out against me.

. . .

I'd emphasize that most white people do not understand their level of ignorance — especially the good ones, who mean well, and that negligence is part of the problem.

Many of the white people I know have no concept of the role they've played, passively or actively, in perpetuating these conditions. They have no idea how much we long to hear them speak up for us and to embrace some of the discomfort around these issues with us. Furthermore, the good ones are oblivious to the level of overt racism still out there. I have been among my white friends each time I've been called "nigger" by a stranger. And every time, my white friends seemed shocked. They had been misled to believe that kind of overt racism only happened in the past (or in To Kill a Mockingbird). Comfortingly, they always verbally leaped to my defense, and the savior complex within them encouraged them to seek retribution.

In one vivid case, at a bar in Cape Cod, after I'd just finished a conversation with a friend, one guy, not realizing I was still in earshot or aware of my relationship with this friend, came over to him and asked, "You really talking to that nigger?" My friend was stunned but immediately came back at the guy, his anger for me visible. He then came to me, boasting that he has black friends as if that should warrant him a pass.

As much as each situation ruined my night, everything after went well, and I was embraced by a group of allies who wanted to fight for me when they heard that word. I had no further reason to be upset. Yet, probably only the friend who walked ahead of the group with me knows I cried my eyes out the entire walk home, unable to explain how that word garnered so much control over me.

The problematic result of these overtly racist situations is that good white people feel liberated from any responsibility concerning the privilege, structural racism, and implicit biases that do not make them racist themselves, but that they do benefit from. This moment is one of the first times I have felt it was not only okay but encouraged to share these things.

If there is one thing every token black friend knows, it is that we are not to provoke serious discussions of racial issues among our white crowd. We should only offer an opinion on such matters when invited to do so by our white peers. Further, we should ensure that the opinion is in line enough with the shared opinion of our white friends, as to not make it too awkward or ostracizing.

It doesn't need to be, and shouldn't be this way. Many of us are eager to share our stories, and we have been waiting for the invitation to do so.

. . .

I am comforted when I see white people call things out for what they are. When my friends and I rented a 16-passenger van for a New Year's Eve trip to Montreal, we found ourselves held up at the border coming back. The older agent, surveying the passengers, asked how we all knew each other, to which we answered, "We all went to high school together." The officer then followed up by singling me out, "And how do you fit in here?" What he was suggesting about my place in the group of all white guys was telling enough, and the guys I was with were quick to support me and point it out to their parents when debriefing the trip once we arrived home. If only they knew how often I'd experienced situations like that one. White people should know that we need more conversations about little things like this. It's not our job to heal the world, but if we can start by getting people to question small interactions and beliefs, we can begin moving toward progress.

The white friends I grew up with have shared with me how thankful they are to have had me in their lives during their developmental years. They wonder what attitudes they might harbor if they hadn't had a black best friend their entire lives. They arrived at college to befriend kids who had never met a black person in their lives, and they encountered countless out of pocket statements from those individuals.

I am constantly thankful that I grew up with genuine white friends, unlike many of my extended family members. My cousin said to me once, "I don't like being around white people… I always feel like they hate me." I was able to learn that, more often than not, that isn't the case. Still, my cousin points to the overwhelming sentiment that black lives are not accepted or celebrated by white people.

Recent events present a unique opportunity to begin conversations that have been waiting to happen for far too long. To both black and white people, I'd write that understanding is a two-way street. To my white friends, I'd tell you that while that's true, white people have a longer journey to get to where we need to meet. It is time for white people to muster the courage to call out those comments you hear from your parents or uncles and aunts. The pass has been given for far too long, and every time you don't speak up, you enable far worse words and behaviors. For those of you who think an old dog can't learn new tricks, I'd point to the numerous white adults who have texted me this week noting that they have been in their bubble for too long, and asking me to keep sending them content. It's time to pop the bubble.

My experience as the token black friend has allowed me a unique lens into many of the gaps that currently prevent mutual understanding between white and black people. I have spent so much time in the white community and enjoyed the privileges that come with that, yet I am still affected by these issues. Despite my story's obvious differences from that of the average young black man, I believe it speaks to the immediate need for change. Additionally, it serves as an example of a genuinely meaningful relationship between a black person and white people and emphasizes the ability of white people to be either allies or enemies.

I will never turn my back on the black community. You'll bump our music and rep our athletes, but will you stand with us when it's not convenient? The pain is real. The stories are real. Our call for help is real. My uncle posted on Facebook yesterday, "When the dust settles, I wonder if anything will actually change?" To be honest, I'm not sure how quickly or how much things will change. But I know that one thing is directly within our individual control. You can celebrate black lives by making a choice to inquire about them, to educate yourself, and to question many of the norms around us. You no longer have the excuse of being unaware of your own ignorance. I'd reword my uncle's post to a question that we should all ask ourselves: "When the dust settles, I wonder if I will actually change?"

"No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite." — Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom

This article originally appeared on Medium and was first shared here on 6.19.20. You can read it here.

Pop Culture

All In: 5 Ways This Week

From the silly to the sentimental, there are so many ways people like to go “all in” on something. Here are our five favorite examples we found this week across the internet.

True

When you hear the words “all in,” what do you think? You might picture an elaborately-themed birthday party for a dog, or maybe a person giving a detailed presentation on why she's "Team Conrad." (IYKYK) Or maybe you picture a woman who takes up running, showing up every day to push herself and completely changing her body and her mindset in the process. Whatever you picture, the idea is the same: Someone who does something with 100 percent total commitment. Going “all in” means giving your all—going completely over the top, no second guessing, no holding back. Just full-throttle enthusiasm, with some flair and creativity thrown in. And when people go “all in,” something truly special usually happens as a result.


The internet abounds with examples of people giving it their all—whatever it is. In this roundup, we’ve found the very best examples of people going “all in”—moments where passion, creativity, and commitment take center stage. Some are sentimental, some are silly, but all of them are a reminder that giving 100 percent is truly the only way to leave a mark on this world. Get ready: These folks didn’t just show up, they went all in.

1. This unbelievable high note 

@sarahhardwigofficial Alone by #heart at #crosseyedcritters on @Joe Noto ‘s last night! Thanks for everything #karaoke #80smusic #fyp ♬ original sound - sarahhardwigofficial

Most of us music enthusiasts can agree that the song “Alone” by the American rock band Heart is one of the most passionate (and technically challenging) songs you can ever sing. It’s so challenging, in fact, that only singers with really incredible range—Celine Dion, for example, or vocal powerhouse Kelly Clarkson— dare to take it on. (If you don’t know the song by name, listen to any one of these clips and you’ll recognize it after a second or two.) So imagine our surprise, scrolling through TikTok, when we see a young singer covering “Alone” and dropping the high note so casually it looks like she sang this song out of pure spite. You almost can’t believe what you’re hearing—but it’s real. And the comments section is full of people who are completely gobsmacked (including a producer from American Idol). We just know we’re going to see this girl on stage again soon.

The ultimate healthy food collab

You already know our friends at All In—they’ve got some seriously tasty snacks that are not only healthy and affordable (scroll to the bottom of this article to see how you can snag a free box), they help fund food banks, gardens, community fridges, meal programs, and other amazing things. Lately, they’ve managed to take their awesomeness up a notch by teaming up with Fresh Truck, a weekly mobile market that brings fresh and affordable produce to neighborhoods in the Boston area. Fresh truck hosts weekly markets, pop-up events, and an online storefront, all to help strengthen communities who need it the most. They’re going all in on local nutrition and food access, and we’re here for it.

This fairy-themed proposal 

@kaylasuttons My sister's suprise fairy themed proposal was a huge success! Glad I could help organize it 💜🧚🏾‍♀️ @Halfcourt @Sway with Samone #fairycore #proposal #engaged #2027bride #BlackTikTok ♬ Ordinary (Wedding Version) - Alex Warren

Marriage is kind of the ultimate example of going “all in.” Think about it—you’re committing the rest of your life to someone til death do you part. That’s why when someone plans a super outrageous proposal, like the one you’re about to watch, that just makes everything all the more special. In this video, creator Kayla Sutton recorded her sister’s surprise wedding proposal, a fairy-themed event that the groom had been planning (according to a separate storytime video) since March of this year. He enlisted family and friends, decorated the venue, supplied food, and had the guests wear fairy-themed costumes, complete with elven ears, for the big moment. Now that’s dedication. Kudos to this dude—he went all out with the proposal in order to go “all in” on their relationship. (And she said “yes,” by the way!)

This "deeply personal" wedding tribute

Okay, not to make this entire article all about weddings, but this is a truly meaningful example of someone going “all in.” Content creator Kristin Marino (now Kristin Schnacky) got married in New York City last week and got, in her words, a surprise that made her bawl her eyes out: Several current and former members of the New York City Fire Department (FDNY) who showed up to honor her late father, a former firefighter who was killed in the line of duty during the September 11th terrorist attacks. The firefighters from Station One (the same firehouse where Marino’s father worked) transported Marino in a firetruck from the Plaza Hotel where she was staying to her wedding venue, where her soon-to-be-husband was waiting at the altar. “It truly was symbolism of my dad walking me down the aisle,” Marino shared. “I know it’s exactly how [my dad] would [have] wanted it.” We’re not crying, you’re crying.

Cat Town 

We can’t tell you why this thing exists, only that it does, and that it’s so elaborate, so detailed, and so expertly created we’re having a hard time even wrapping our heads around it. Here goes: Xing is a Chinese content creator who has spent the past several years creating (and documenting the creation of) an elaborate habitat for his pet cats, called Cat Town. We’re not talking about a room filled with toys and scratching posts, by the way: Xing has actually made a complete functioning replica of a human city, scaled down to accommodate cats. Cat Town has a working subway station, a supermarket, a theatre, and a restaurant (named MeowDonalds). Just…wow. And nicely done. Talk about a passion project.

Snag your free (!!) snack bars here while this deal lasts. Simply sign up with your phone number, pick two boxes of any flavor of All In bars at Sprouts, and then text a picture of your receipt through Aisle. They’ll Venmo or PayPal you back for the cost of one box. Enjoy!

Internet

Harvard linguist explains perfectly logical reason Boomers insist on using ellipses in texts

Once you understand this, texting with your mom will get a lot easier.

Linguist explains simple reason Boomers use ellipses in texts all the time

One generation's texting habit that baffles every generation is the Boomers' seemingly excessive use of ellipses. Do you have more to say, Aunt Judy, or did you just accidentally press the period key too many times? Maybe it's for a dramatic pause or to put emphasis on a point? This is truly a mystery that leaves every generation below them confused about what is meant by the dreaded "dot dot dot."

Texting etiquette differs with every generation. Gen X and most Millennials use fairly proper grammar and punctuation throughout a text message exchange. Every new sentence starts with a capital letter, there are strategically placed Oxford commas to ensure there's little room for misunderstandings, and sentences end with an appropriate punctuation mark.

linguist; boomers; gen x; millennials; gen z; text etiquette; boomer texting; gen z slang Joyful moments captured: A cheerful day out!Photo credit: Canva

When it comes to Gen Z, they find that ending text messages with proper punctuation indicates that the person they're texting is being passive-aggressive. They also text in shorthand and emojis that can feel a bit like you need a special decoder ring to decipher the messages. But texting in an encrypted way can be chalked up to youth, though the same can't be said when it comes to Boomers. Or can it?

Harvard linguist and author of the book Algospeak, Adam Aleksic, breaks down why so many Boomers use ellipses when texting. It's surprisingly not as complicated or dramatic as one may imagine. In a viral video posted last year on TikTok, Aleksic explains his theory for the texting etiquette of Boomers.

linguist; boomers; gen x; millennials; gen z; text etiquette; boomer texting; gen z slang Two generations connecting through their smartphones.Photo credit: Canva

"You know how older people tend to use the 'Boomer ellipses' whenever they're texting? There's always a random 'dot dot dot' in the middle of their messages?" Aleksic asks. "Well, that's because they grew up following different rules for informal communication. Nowadays, if you want to separate an idea, you just press enter and start a new line with a new thought, but it made less sense to do that for writing postcards or letters, where you had to save space, so people back in the day learned to separate thoughts by using ellipses."

Aleksic explains that this is also true for when phones first started allowing text messaging. You were charged by the message, so ellipses made it more efficient to convey all the thoughts in one message instead of multiple ones. SMS texting also had a character limit, unlike current phones, where you can essentially write a novella in a single message without your phone automatically breaking it up.

Today's texting standards typically mean people separate their thoughts by sending multiple messages for separate thoughts, though that annoys some people. If separating thoughts means you'll be sending no less than five texts in quick succession, it's likely best to just space down to make the text longer, rather than bombarding an unsuspecting friend.

When it comes down to it, younger generations have adapted to the new standard, embracing the unlimited text option, while Boomers haven't. Due to this discrepancy in text etiquette, the ellipses used by Boomers throw people for a loop.

linguist; boomers; gen x; millennials; gen z; text etiquette; boomer texting; gen z slang Elderly man working.Photo credit: Canva

"That means the Boomer ellipses became redundant, which is why they cause confusion today. They violate what we call 'the maximum quantity;' they add more information than necessary, so they appear to imply something more than the intended meaning. Most of the time, that comes off to younger people as hesitation, annoyance, or passive aggressiveness because that's how we use the ellipses," the linguist shares.

So, no, your grandma isn't mad at you or avoiding telling you something; according to Aleksic, she's just trying to send you multiple messages in one. There's no hidden emotion behind the ellipses for Boomers; it's simply a habit left over from their younger years.

A young mom with her kids in the ER.

In the fall of 2023, young mother Sage Pasch’s unique family situation attracted a ton of online attention after the 20-something shared a six-second video on TikTok. The video has now been viewed over 48 million times and rests pinned at the top of Pasch's page because it shows how hard it can be for young moms to be taken seriously.

In the video, the young-looking Pasch (young-looking because she is indeed in her early twenties) took her teenaged son Nick to the ER after he injured his leg at school. But when the family got to the hospital, the doctor couldn’t believe Pasch was his mother. “POV, we’re at the ER, and the doctor didn’t believe I was the parent,” she captioned the post.

Pasch and her fiancé, Luke Faircloth, adopted the teen in 2022 after his parents tragically died two years apart. “Nick was already spending so much time with us, so it made sense that we would continue raising him,” Pasch told Today.

At the time the video was posted, the couple had Nick and 17-month-old baby Laith, who they lovingly call Bub.

@coffee4lifesage

He really thought i was lying😭

They now have their third child, a baby boy named Luca, making them a big happy family of five.

@coffee4lifesage

Mother’s Day fit check #momof3 #momsoftiktok #boymom #momlife #sunday #mothersday #boys #ootdinspo #family

After experiencing the ER doctor's confusion, Pasch said that people are often taken aback by her family when they are out in public. "Everybody gets a little confused because my fiancé and I are definitely younger to have a teenager," she said. "It can be very frustrating."

It may be hard for the young parents to be taken seriously, but their story has made a lot of people in a similar situation feel seen.

"Omg, I feel this. I took my son to the ER, and they asked for the guardian. Yes, hi, that's me," one mom wrote in the comments.

"Meee with my teenager at a parent-teacher conference. They think I’m her older sister and say we need to talk with your parents," another added.

Though the confusion is frustrating, it's not slowing Pasch and her family down. In a recent post, Pasch shared that she and her family had welcomed a fourth baby and were taking their followers on a trip to shop for the nursery.

@coffee4lifesage

Meet mousey #momof3 #momsoftiktok #boymom #momlife #funny #hubby #parents #pet #family


After a couple seconds, Pasch admits the new baby they're shopping for is actually their new hamster named Mousey. Judging by some of Pasch's other videos, though, they're trying for a fourth human baby and Pasch is hoping for a girl!

@coffee4lifesage

Happy 🐪 day #momof3 #momsoftiktok #boymom #momlife #parent #lifestyle #routine #wednesday #vlog #school



This article originally appeared last year. It has been updated.

A cassette tape from the '80s.

Generation X occupies an interesting time in history, for those who care to recognize that they actually exist. They were born between 1965 and 1980 and came into this world at an interesting inflection point: women were becoming a larger part of the workplace and divorce was at the highest point in history. This left Gen X to be the least parented generation in recent history.

Gen X was overlooked in their domestic lives and culturally were overshadowed by Baby Boomers with their overpowering nostalgia for Woodstock, The Beatles, and every cultural moment celebrated in Forest Gump. Once Boomer navel-gazing nostalgia began to wane, a much larger and over-parented generation, the Millennials, came on the scene.

“Whereas Boomers were the ‘me generation’ and millennials were the ‘me me me generation,’ Gen X has become the ‘meh’ generation,” Emily Stewart writes at Business Insider. But even if Gen X is a little aloof, that doesn’t mean they aren’t totally rad, awesome, trippindicular, and that it’d be bogus to define them any other way. To explain the unique history of Gen X and why they’re often overlooked, history teacher Lauren Cella created a timeline on TikTok to explain them to her Gen Z students..

@laurencella92

A love letter to Gen X from your millennial cousin🫶 Gen X didn’t start the fire, so after this I will just leave them alone because they do not care 🤣 But seriously for a generation that sometimes gets “forgotten” and stuck between the larger boomer or millennial cohorts, the genres they created paved the way for pop culture as we know it. I’m still not sure who let kids watch “The Day After” on TV or play on those hot metal playgrounds, but Gen X survived to tell the tale. Today, the so called “latchkey” kids, born 1965-1980 are actually super involved as parents, aunts, uncles, teachers (or maybe even grandparents)😉. Kids today want to say they are “built different” but I think Gen X is the one holding down that title because they grew up tough, they saw too much, they made it out, and they know exactly who they are and wouldn’t have it any other way.✌️ #g#genx

In Cella’s video, she divides Gen X into three distinct phases.

Phase 1: 1970s stagflation and changing families

“Gas shortages meant stagflation. So parents either both had to work or maybe they were divorced. So that meant microwave TV dinners and kids that sort of raised themselves,” Cella explains. “There was no parenting blogs, there was no after-school travel sports, emailing. Like, none of that existed. Bored? Go outside."


Phase 2: The neon ‘80s

“But then came the 1980s, where everything was big and loud. The hair, the bangs, the Reaganomics, mass consumerism (because now we can trade with China). The whole media just exploded,” Cella says. “But now we have TV, we have movies, we have TV, movies, home movies, TV movies, favorite TV movies, music, music, Videos, music, video, television. All these different genres and all these different cliques and all these different ways that you can express yourself.”


Phase 3: 1990s post-Cold War Skepticism

“Gen X sort of comes into the 1990s more sarcastic and skeptical,” Cella continues. “The Cold War ending meant that they rejected the excess of the eighties. And there's the shift. Grunge, indie, alternative, flannels, Docs [Doc Martins]. At this point, the technology is also exploding, but not like fun home media, but like corporate media. So there's this resistance to sell-out culture.”


Cella has a theory on why Gen X seems forgotten, and it’s not just because CBS News famously denied its existence. She believes that it comes down to Gen X’s inability to call attention to itself. “So Gen X is a bridge between these two larger, more storied generations. So it's not necessarily that they get forgotten. They don't really want the attention. They're kind of fine to just like, fly under the radar like they always have, because honestly, it's whatever.”

Humor

A guy revealed the 12 simple things that make men happy and it's 100% accurate

If it's not a dog, a buddy, a beer, and a cool stick, we don't want it.

Nolan Reid / TikTok
A guy definitively listed the 12 things that make men happy and it's 100% accurate

Minimalism is on the rise, not just in design and architecture, but in the way people live their lives. Having fewer things, sporting simpler styles, and enjoying the fundamental good things in life is cool now. Regular people who aren't influencers post fewer updates to social media. The world is just so loud and chaotic, more people are getting satisfaction out of just... chilling out and existing.

There's an old joke/meme that goes something like this: "Guys literally only want one thing and it's disgusting." Its used to imply, obviously, that men are shallow and crude creatures. TikTok creator and simple-life advocate Nolan Reid, however, has a different idea of what men really want.

Nolan recently made a video about "Little things in life that make men happy."

The hilarious list includes:

  • A fridge full of beer.
  • Drinking said beer in the garage. With your dog. And a good buddy.
  • Finding a cool stick.
  • Kicking a rock.
  • Staring at water.
  • Dropping rocks into said water.

As a fellow man, I would say: Yeah. That pretty much covers it.

It really doesn't take much! Watch Nolan's full video to see the rest, and just appreciate how much joy and satisfaction he gets from these simple things.


@nolanreid7

It’s that simple #beer #mustache #muzzymade



People loved Nolan's list—so much so that they began adding their own ideas of "simple things men love." The video racked up hundreds of thousands of views across TikTok and Instagram.

One commenter wrote, "He just described my whole personality." Another added, "This guy gets it."

Others chimed in with their own additions to the list, like staring at a fire for hours or just peace and quiet.

But most of the nearly 200 comments were just people chiming in to say one thing:

"Hell yeah."

Finally, someone who understands us! The video was such a hit that Reid put out two sequels where he added things like skipping rocks, throwing a thumbs up in a photo, or making something from scratch. "A dog" seems to make an appearance in every single video, and for good reason: Dogs make guys happy!

Nolan's ultra-relaxed vision of "masculinity" is honestly so refreshing.

@nolanreid7

And many more #littlethings #muzzymade

Men on social media are usually bombarded with the Andrew Tates and Jordan Petersons of the world—influencers who constantly berate us to make more money, lose weight and add muscle, sleep with more women, take charge, and relentlessly self-improve.

I like Nolan's much chiller idea of masculinity. It reminds me of being a kid: taking pleasure in the simple things, not racing to be anywhere, not trying to impress anyone or prove anything. And I love that all the things listed are timeless. They were enjoyed by men, and all people, in the 50s, in the 90s, and they'll be enjoyed by people 50 years from now, too.

Nolan's entire account is a breath of fresh air, an antidote to hustle culture. His videos find joy in:

  • Breaking down cardboard boxes
  • Driving at sunset
  • Going fishing
  • Throwing a frisbee
  • Wearing t-shirts

A daily visit to his page is almost like a meditation. I highly recommend giving him a follow to add a little counterprogramming to your social media feed.

Nolan says in another recent video that he started making TikToks and Instagram reels just for fun, but discovered along the way that he was really passionate about the message.

@nolanreid7

And many more #littlethings #men #happy #muzzymade

"I never thought that my simple living and love for little things would resonate with so many of you."

He said he hopes to inspire people to "take a step back and enjoy the good simple things in life." And now, I suddenly have the urge to go chuck a rock into a river, so I would say: Mission Accomplished!

This article originally appeared last year. It has been updated.

Photo credit: Canva, @namingbebe, TikTok

There was a time when every other girl was named Ashley. That time has ended.

As we know, baby name trends are constantly changing. One generation’s Barbara is another generation’s Bethany. But it doesn’t make it any less odd when you suddenly realize that your very own name has suddenly made it into the “old and unhip” pile. And for many of us 80s babies…that time is now.

In a now-viral TikTok post, baby name consultant Colleen Slagen went through the top 100 girl names from 1986 to find which ones “did not age well” and were no longer ranked top 1,000 today. Such a descent from popularity would mark them as what she calls “timestamp names.” Spoiler alert: what might be even more surprising than the names now considered old school are the names that are still going strong.

The first name that Slagen says is “officially out” is Heather. That’s right, not even cult movie fame could help it keep its ranking.

heather, heathers, winona ryder, classic movies, actress Winona Ryder in Heathers. media3.giphy.com

Other extinct names include Erica, Courtney, Lindsay, Tara, Crystal, Shannon, Brandy and Dana. Tiffany, Brittany and Casey are also heading very much in that direction.

“My name is Brandy. The Gen Z hostess at Olive Garden told me that she’d never heard my name before and it was so unique,” one viewer wrote.

However, Andrea ranks “surprisingly high,” and Jessica, Ashley and Stephanie have survived…so far.

Gobsmacked, one person asked “How is Stephanie still in there? I don’t think I’ve met a Stephanie younger than myself at 34.”

But the biggest holdout still belongs to Jennifer. “She was a top 100 name all the way up until 2008. Round of applause for Jennifer,” Slagen says in the clip.

@namingbebe

Sorry Lindsay, Heather, and Courtney. #babynames #nametok #nameconsultant #girlnames #80skid #1986 #nametrend


If your name has found its way into relic of a bygone era status, fret not. Slagen, whose name also ranks out of the top 1000, assures it just means “we are creatures of the 80's.”Of course, while we still have baby names that become incredibly common for extended periods of time (looking at you, little Liam and Olivia), the real contemporary trend is going for uniqueness. As an article in The Atlantic notes, for most of American history families tended to name their children after a previous family member, with the goal of blending in, rather than standing out. But now, things have changed.

Recently, Kelley Cole went viral on TikTok for a video in which she shared the names that Gen Z teens think are now officially for "old ladies," which they read right out of a classroom from 1985. “I was told my name was an old lady's name by the teenagers on the adolescent unit I was working on,” she begins her video. “I was surprised, so the subject came up of what names are old lady names versus young names.”

@kelleykelleykelley

#oldladynames #names #girlnames #babynames #popularnames #trendynames #genx #millennial #genxnames

Laura Wattenberg, the founder of Namerology, told the outlet that “Parents are thinking about naming kids more like how companies think about naming products, which is a kind of competitive marketplace where you need to be able to get attention to succeed.”

But again, even with a keen eye on individualism, patterns pop up. “The same thing we see in fashion trend cycles, we see in names,” Jessie Paquette, another professional baby namer, told Vox. “We’re seeing Eleanor, Maude, Edith—cool-girl grandma names.”

So who knows…give it time (or maybe just a pop song) and one of these 80s names could make a comeback.

This article originally appeared last year.