Maybe We’ve Got It All Wrong about Gen Z

They don't want to return to a time they never knew.

Image by Riley Levine

If you’re over thirty, imagine growing up knowing only a United States defined by relentless polarization, economic upheaval, a global pandemic that physically and emotionally separated you from your peers, and a social media ecosystem that connects and divides in equal measure. This is the reality for Gen Z, the cohort of Americans born from the late 1990s into the 2010s. Too often, discussions about this generation — often with no Gen Zer included — reduce their skepticism and disengagement from politics to apathy or self-absorption.

It should come as little surprise that most people writing and talking about Gen Z are far removed from what research tells us, or what these young Americans keep trying to tell us, if only we would listen. It’s a group — those who take more time to share their views on Gen Z than absorb what Gen Z is explaining about themselves — that I’m embarrassed to fall into far too often. I’m the mother of two astonishingly kind, smart, open, and just plain good Gen Z men (potential bias noted) with whom I have long and fascinating conversations about everything from protein powder to politics. Despite those relationships and knowing many of their wonderful friends as I do, I still struggle at times to truly understand how to reach and engage this generation.

But I’m trying.

My default is to describe the goal of returning to some semblance of bipartisanship and an era when we could argue over policy; a time when we believed most Americans wanted the best for one another, even though we had different ideas of how to get there. It’s not that those arguments fall on deaf Gen Z ears; it’s that I’m describing a return to something they’ve never known. They didn’t watch East and West Germany compete in the Olympics. They can’t recall the power and promise of the day freedom and democracy appeared to have won, and the Berlin Wall came down.

Gen Z doesn’t want to return to a time they never knew. Their generation doesn’t believe that the world was a simpler place when their parents and grandparents were kids; they believe we just knew less about what was happening. And they’re probably not wrong. Because of today’s chaotic, overwhelming, and unreliable information ecosystem, young Americans likely know more and less about the world they’re living in than we did at their age.

We make a critical error when we assume and draw conclusions from impressions from the outside looking in. Research tells a more nuanced — and hopeful — story, guided by the lessons we should be learning from their lived experience.

Let’s start with the numbers. Since 2016, trust in government and core institutions has declined for all Americans, but the generational gap has widened significantly. Less than a third of Gen Z says they trust the federal government. They’re not unique in having doubts, but they are distinct in never having experienced a period of broad bipartisan cooperation, less vitriolic discourse, or even a common frame of factual reference.

Their skepticism isn’t just about politics, and it’s damned hard to say it’s unjustified. Gen Z rates the media, brands, and even established companies with unprecedented caution. Their formative years were defined by severe political division, the upheaval of COVID-19, and policy swings, leaving them deeply aware of the fragility of progress on issues such as climate change, racial justice, gun violence, and reproductive rights. Overlay this with the reality that many are “barely getting by,” as data from the annual Harvard Youth Poll underscores, and it becomes clear: their doubts are rooted in experience, not indifference.

We told them that if they stepped up, engaged, and set aside their concerns about electing a near octogenarian to the White House in 2020, America would return to a path of progress. We told them that their opportunities would be greater and that, after four years, the torch would be passed to the next generation of leaders. But our transitional leader decided against that promised transition and, well, we know how that turned out. Perhaps it was a change election, and no one could have beaten Trump. We’ll never know. But Gen Z does know that promises made were not promises kept, and their faith in the political process and political leaders was shaken … badly.

So we have work to do and we have to learn to do it differently.

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Conventional civics engagement doesn’t reach Gen Z. Standard calls to “just vote” or “get involved” feel hollow when the institutions asking haven’t earned their trust or addressed their realities. Yet, there is ample evidence that when approached through the right lens — peer-to-peer conversation, authentic dialogue, and direct involvement— Gen Z is not only willing but eager to effect change, so don’t write them off.

How can we — parents, mentors, advocates — reach Gen Z? The wisdom from a wide range of research is clear: Talk to Gen Z where they are, about what actually matters to them. Messaging that connects civic participation with tangible personal or community outcomes — healthier neighborhoods, more affordable college, or mental health resources — rings far truer than appeals rooted in heated partisanship or nostalgia for a lost “golden age” of politics.

Pro-democracy outreach succeeds when it aligns with shared, nonpartisan values: fairness, opportunity, justice, and agency. Authenticity beats partisan appeals. We can’t sugarcoat the hard questions or the very real hurdles facing Gen Z, or give guarded, focus-group-tested talking points. Gen Z will accept that we don’t have all the answers. They’ll give us the space to be awkward on social media and dorky in person but they will not tolerate attempts to blow smoke or sunshine. They see bullshit coming from miles away.

The most inspiring successes in reaching Gen Z involve Gen Z as co-creators, not just participants or spectators. When young people have real influence — youth advisory boards, paid fellowships, or leadership roles in solving local problems — trust builds. When they see their feedback reflected in policy changes or community programs, engagement deepens.

Programs that blend hands-on service, cross-ideological project teams, and visible impact (like expanding food access or pushing for gun safety ordinances) succeed in fostering lasting civic habits. These aren’t just pilot projects; they’re blueprints for national renewal.

The temptation to blame or shame Gen Z for their disillusionment isn’t just unfair, it’s counterproductive. They are not cynics — they are realists. Building bridges means accepting that their skepticism is a challenge we should welcome: a demand for accountability, authenticity, and a new social contract that delivers for everyone.

The call now isn’t just to “mobilize” Gen Z, but to meet them with humility and hope. Invite them to help create a future that is tangible, just, and inclusive — where participation, not polarization, is the norm; where their voices, concerns, and ideas are at the heart of our democracy. One of the great joys of being a parent is moving from the stage of teaching our children to realizing we can learn from them. If Gen X and Boomers are honest with ourselves, we have to admit that we’ve made quite a mess of things on countless fronts. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop trying so hard to teach Gen Z how we used to do it and be open to the possibility that we can learn a lot from a generation eager to move from the partisan battles that keep us apart to a community focused on succeeding together.

Lisa Senecal is the Founding Editor of Lincoln Square.