Covid and climate change have robbed 20-somethings of the exciting transition to adulthood
OPINION: Thirty years ago, I ventured into the working world armed with a BA honours degree, a journalism diploma and barely any debt. Tertiary education was virtually free until 1990 and student loans were introduced a year after I graduated, so I never had one. In my journalism job at The Dominion (Wellingtons morning newspaper back then), I paid about $60 a week in rent for a room in a warm, tidy house near Cuba St. Rent was cheap - about 15 per cent of my wage - and it was easy to walk into a flat and sign a lease. Renting was a temporary situation because we Gen Xers expected it was our birth right to own a home one day. I had the zestful enthusiasm of a 20-something embracing this exciting transition to adulthood. I knew that being a woman put me at a disadvantage but apart from that, I felt like I could do anything. New Zealand was embracing the neo-liberalist economic and social policies of the 1980s and early 1990s: it was every man/woman for him or herself, when benefits were slashed, state assets were sold off, and capitalism was the new king. New Zealand was beautiful but, to a 20-something it felt like a backwater, while the world felt exciting, promising and progressive. READ MORE: * Young Kiwis are experiencing climate anxiety - are we listening? * Gen Z aren't just 'whinging zoomers' - our struggle is real * What to do if you're feeling the midlife burn * Climate anxiety is real, and young people are feeling it We were feminists - I called myself Ms and would keep my surname if I married - and most of the female journalists I worked with at The Dominion were hard-working and fiesty. If they had kids, they did not talk about them, and they were not paid by the state for taking time out to care for their newborns. At my flat, most of us ate meat and we took out a tonne of rubbish each week. We drove around in old cars which guzzled gas and leaked oil on the roads. We knew about global warming - as it was called in the 1990s - along with the gaping ozone hole, but we did not worry too much. Our fears were HIV and a nuclear bomb being set off, and on the home front, paying exorbitant landline phone bills. I started planning my overseas trip - where could I go, and what could I do? I was comparing my approach to life and the world as a 22-year-old in 1992 when I wandered around my daughters graduate design exhibition at Massey University last week, looking at all the projects with an environmental or public good focus, including her plant-based food bag concept. She is a clever, caring and socially-conscious 21-year-old, who shares the values of her friends and university peers. She turned vegetarian a year ago out of concern for the planet and for animal rights. Along with climate change, Gen Zers care deeply about everything: gender politics, body positivity, sexual consent and friends struggling with mental health. They also worry about debt. Since I graduated in 1992, more than 1.37 million students have taken out student loans , racking up an average of $23,307 in debt. In fact, they worry a lot and I wish they did not have to. One is about where to live - today, only 64 per cent of households own their homes , compared with 75 per cent in 1992. Meanwhile, my daughter has trudged around Wellington with friends, armed with references literally pleading with property managers to let them rent a house or flat. Her room in one flat cost $220 a week, it was colder inside than out and her bedroom walls were covered with mould. The good news is that if she has a baby, she will get paid parental leave, and she will hopefully work in an office which encourages flexible working practices, and a boss who cares about her wellbeing. When I think of Covid, her generation is a cohort I feel deeply for. They are community-minded so I have not heard too many grumbles. But I want them to feel the same excitement about adulthood as we did rather than doom and gloom about climate change and the never-ending pandemic. I want them to explore the world and find themselves like we did. I worry that, like dealing with climate change, they will be left to pay the bills amassed from Covid lockdowns. No-one is perfect: they spend too much time on their phones and probably grumble more about hard work than we did, but it feels like the future is in good hands. Sunday Magazine