How Millennials Are Changing Relationships

“Millennials don’t want relationships,” I read this morning on social media.

And, admittedly, my first response to this was something akin to: oh great, is this another thing millennials are killing, along with diamonds, golf, and napkins? Are millennials responsible for the death of relationships as well?

Once my initial reaction was out of the way, I started to think about this claim a little deeper. I mean, in this culture of Tinder and social media dating, you are more apt to hearing people wonder about what the future of dating is. So is there some validity to this claim that millennials don’t want romantic relationships, in a society where social contact is established through a screen?

As a millennial myself, do I want a relationship?

Well, yes. Someday. It just isn’t high on my list of priorities right now.

I am twenty-three years old, and right now, my life is a little bit rocky. I’m in the process of figuring out how I can move to another city. I’m trying to decide what I want to do with my life. My career and my pursuit of my dreams have sort of taken priority for the past few years, as I learn to navigate through this crazy, little world that I inherited. And, yeah, I would eventually like a relationship, but I don’t necessarily see myself settling into an image of domesticity, at least not any time soon. Right now, I’m still trying to find myself.

And so are the majority of my fellow-millennial friends. I have friends who have jumped from relationship to relationship, not because they don’t want to stay in one, but because they’re still learning and figuring themselves out. I have friends whose every romantic encounter is a Tinder hookup, because they aren’t emotionally prepared to settle down yet. I have friends who settle into happy, serious relationships, and then a few months later, break up and post all about the whole experience on social media.

And, personally, I don’t see any of this as a sign that millennials don’t want a relationship. It’s just that many of us are still very young. And a lot of this is pretty par for the course of young people, social media or no social media.

So then why do I keep hearing people say that millennials don’t want relationships, or that millennials don’t know how to make lasting connections with people?

Well, 1 – I think that this a pretty common complaint for every new generation of youths. Let’s face it: elders just like to complain about us. And, considering young people are consistently trying to find themselves and explore their environment, whether it’s the 1960’s or the age of Tinder, this is probably going to continue being a complaint for many, many years to come. The baby boomers will say it about us. The millennials will say it about the next generation. It’s just the circle of life.

But I also think that there’s another side to all this, and it’s something that I touched on briefly earlier: the definition of what a relationship is is, slowly but surely, changing.

Divorce rates in America peaked at about 40 percent in 1980, and although this number has been declining ever since, this does mean that many millennials grew up in households where their biological parents were split up. We are the generation of step-parents and single parents, and we are also the generation that grew up with both parents working outside of the house.

Perhaps (at least partly) because of this, it is estimated that the marriage rate might drop to 70 percent in millennials (compared to 91 percent of baby boomers).

Yep, that’s right. We’re killing the wedding industry too. Take that, heteronormative marriage ideals.

But it isn’t just the divorce rate that might make millennials wonder about marriage. As we talk more and more about the role of women in our society, women are encouraged toward pursuing careers and building lives outside of the home. More and more, we’re moving away from this idea that the only thing a woman can be is a wife and mother.

As Time put it, “millennials want jobs and education, not marriage and kids”. In fact, according to them, 55 percent of millennials said that marriage and kids aren’t important.

This goes back to what I was saying before: relationships just aren’t a priority for me right now. I want a satisfying career and education, and as a woman in 2018, I have more freedom than ever to get that. A satisfying relationship can come later, when I’m a little bit more adjusted and sure of myself.

And not only that, relationships are becoming increasingly less weirdly Stepford with time. We are talking more and more about such issues as heteronormativity, and how harmful that can become. Same sex relationships are becoming more and more accepted within society, meaning that today’s youth are more open minded than ever. Only 65 percent of millennials identify as exclusively heterosexual, and already, this is becoming an outdated statistic, as only 48 percent of Americans between the ages of 13 to 20 identify as exclusively heterosexual. According to the survey conducted by the J Walter Thompson Innovation Group, a significant amount of today’s youth identify as bisexual.

I also don’t think that such societal conversations as the role of polyamory or sex positivity should be ignored, as these are changing the way that we, as today’s youth, view relationships.

And I’m really not trying to say that any of this is a negative thing. On the contrary, I think it’s amazing. I think that millennials these days have more freedoms when it comes to relationships than any generation has ever had before, and I’m really curious to see where we’ll take these freedoms as more of us grow older and more mature and more prepared to settle into relationships (or not settle into relationships, whatever makes each individual person happy).

I think that, for too long, relationships have had a solid structure that each and every person is expected to follow, or at least pretend to follow. And I think that this structure works for some people, but not for everyone. And right now, millennials are creating the freedom to build new relationships that work better for each individual person. And is this a trend that will continue? Or are we destined to become the stubborn, old curmudgeons, complaining about the next generation and their inability to form healthy, normal relationships? That, I suppose, only time will tell.

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Why I Like The Word ‘Queer’

Recently, I found myself sitting in a room with a whole bunch of people, where one older gentleman was talking. While I was there, he laughed and made the comment, “I don’t know what sort of language the kids are using today, or what words have been reclaimed now. Is it alright to use the word ‘queer’?” to which the majority of the people in the room, most of them straight and cis-gendered, responded by saying, “oh no, no, no, don’t use that word. You use that word and you get in trouble.”

The topic of conversation moved on from there, but through all of this, there I was, this tiny queer voice in the back of the room, thinking, “really?” Because, personally speaking, this response did not at all reflect my experience. To be honest, I actually really like the word ‘queer’.

And, admittedly, perhaps a bit of my liking toward this word comes from a place of privilege, because I never had this word used toward me with a negative connotation, and I know many people have. Historically speaking, this is a word that has been used to harass and belittle many people, to dismiss them as “weird” or beyond understanding, and of course, that is never okay. And if you are a person who does not like being labelled with this word because of an unpleasant history with it, I can totally understand this and will not tell you that you need to feel differently.

But that being said, as a reclaimed word, I find ‘queer’ to be an incredibly liberating identity.

If you are not familiar with the practice of reclaiming words, this is when a specific word has been used in an attempt to hurt people in the past, but in the present, that word is taken by the oppressed group and given a slightly different connotation, with the intention of taking power back. For example, the word ‘bitch’ can be considered a reclaimed word: historically speaking, it was used to describe an unpleasant, despicable woman, usually one who asserted herself in a way that made men uncomfortable. But nowadays, many women will proudly describe themselves as a ‘bitch’, because they are willing to assert themselves, even if it makes men uncomfortable, and they aren’t ashamed of that.

In a similar vein, the word ‘queer’ has been taken from one that means “weird” and, by extension, “wrong”, to one that means… something else.

Because, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure if ‘queer’ has a solid definition yet.

I have sometimes heard the word ‘queer’ used to describe gay, lesbian, and bisexual people – which makes sense. This is the group of people that this word was most frequently used to wound in the past. And, more than that, the word ‘queer’ serves as a great, useful blanket term for anyone who has any interest at all in their same gender.

Because, let’s face it: sometimes, these identities can feel somewhat… limiting.

You may or may not be aware of the Kinsey Scale, developed by Alfred Kinsey as a way of measuring one’s sexual orientation. Now, this method is highly complex and multi-layered, but at its simplest, it is a scale from zero to seven – zero indicating exclusive heterosexuality, six indicating exclusive homosexuality, and seven indicating no sexual interest at all. Now, it was Kinsey’s belief that a person’s sexual orientation is subject to change over the course of their life (which is today considered a controversial belief, for perhaps obvious reasons), and that the majority of people fall somewhere in the middle of the scale, so in that nice one, two, three, four, and five area that indicates at least mild interest in both genders (this is, again, controversial). Now, you may or may not agree with Kinsey’s perspective, but the reason why I feel that it is important and relevant to what I am saying is because sexual orientation is not always as simple and straight-forward as gay, straight, and bisexual.

You can live your entire life thinking that you’re straight, and then fall head over heels for someone of the same gender. You can live your entire life thinking that you’re gay, but then realize that, while you definitely aren’t straight, your interests aren’t as exclusive as you once thought. Heck, you might even consider yourself straight, and think of Ruby Rose as that one exception. Not everyone will experience this, no; there are some people out there who do have totally exclusive interests, but for those of us who don’t, those of us who don’t necessarily feel like gay, straight, or bisexual entirely describes who we are, ‘queer’ is a nice alternative for us to fall back on.

Because queer isn’t limiting. Queer is whatever you want it to be. Queer is full of possibilities, full of options.

I have also heard ‘queer’ defined as a way to describe people who are not only attracted to their own gender, but to describe people who are transgender and/or gender non-conforming. And, again, this makes sense; again, this word has been used to wound these people in the past, and again, this word is a very liberating word in terms of gender as well.

Because, just like with sexual orientation, gender has historically been very stifling. When it comes to gender, you are typically expected to fall into one of two categories: male and female, determined by what genitalia can be found between your legs. If you are male, then you are expected to behave in a way that corresponds with that – you are to be ‘masculine’. You must be a provider, you must be in control of your emotions, you must be strong and powerful and commanding and in control. If you are female, then you are to be ‘feminine’. You are to be passive and quiet and kind and caring and understanding. It doesn’t matter the scenario, and it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t come naturally to you; it is what is expected of you.

But ‘queer’ doesn’t expect anything. ‘Queer’ accepts you as you are, whether that be feminine, masculine, or somewhere in between. ‘Queer’ doesn’t tell you how to act and what to be, and ‘queer’ most certainly doesn’t care what’s between your legs.

From time to time, I have even heard ‘queer’ used to define straight and cis-gendered people who simply are not in a conventional relationship. ‘Queer’ honestly just refers to any people who fail to live up to our society’s idea of heteronormativity, and this includes straight couples who are in open relationships, or are heavy into BDSM culture, or who are not engaging in sex with the primary intention of procreation.

Because ‘queer’ is not exclusive. When you identify as queer, what that means is that you fail to live up to what society considers the standard, the expected. And while that can be very difficult and isolating when you are the only one doing so, the identity of queer builds a community around you. It means that you are not alone, that there are many out there who do not feel like their experience matches up with the one that society tells them they should have.

That, to me, is what the reclaimed word ‘queer’ means. And that is why I have no shame identifying myself as a queer person.

Heroes and Villains Explored in the Batman Universe

I don’t remember where I first heard it, but the idea that, in fiction, villains represent the things that we, as a society, reject while heroes represent the things that we support has interested me for a long time. At first, I wasn’t really sure how I felt about it, whether I agreed or disagreed. Because, on the one hand, the villains have typically been the characters that I felt a deeper connection with. The heroes were always boring. They were limited to the confines of certain rules, being forced to reflect what writers view as ‘the everyman’, while sticking to their very limited view of morality. Villains were much freer. They were allowed to be and do what they wanted, opening themselves up to further exploration.

But at the same time, I see where the argument comes from. Focusing on the Batman universe for a second here (because I’m familiar with it, and because Batman has a fuckton of villains), the majority of his villains are either foreign (Bane, Penguin, often Mr. Freeze), mentally ill (Two-Face, the Joker, Riddler), or queer (Catwoman, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn). In some more specified cases, too, this argument presents very problematic aspects of the Batman universe.

For example: Poison Ivy. Poison Ivy is most commonly presented as a villain in the Batman universe. Created in 1966, when feminism and environmentalism were both issues that were frequently discussed, Poison Ivy is an ecoterrorist and a strong woman who is in charge of her own sexuality. On the one hand, when you apply this argument to this character, it looks like the text is offering a very sexist and a very anti-environmentalist message. But on the other hand, this is also part of what I love about her.

And the Batman universe hasn’t been entirely dismissive about who Poison Ivy is as a person either. Many writers have made deliberate attempts to humanize her, as well as to make the reader sympathize with her as a person. Her main conflict, for example, involves feeling like she is outside of society (being half-plant), and that she is incapable of connecting with any human being. Later comics allowed her to move passed this feeling by giving her a close relationship with Harley Quinn, but the point still stands that Batman writers have made an active attempt to make readers relate to her.

So what does that mean? Is Poison Ivy a representation of what society hates most?

And on the hero-side of things, what about Batman? Batman, after all, is a wealthy, white man who the comics have gone out of their way to prove is straight (for proof of this, look back to the creation of Batwoman as a character). All of this falls into the definition of what society accepts as ‘correct’. In most recent Batman texts, however, this has changed ever-so-slightly, as Batman has begun to be explored as someone who is very mentally ill. Although he still refuses to accept help for his illness, his PTSD surrounding the death of his parents is most evident, though there might be more beneath it all, considering the fact that he endangers his own life nightly to dress up as a giant bat and work as a vigilante.

And not only that, but Batman is not the only hero in the Batman universe.

Batwoman, for example, has been a lesbian in the comics since the 1990’s.

Oracle is a physically disabled woman, being confined to a wheelchair since she was shot by the Joker.

And Damian Wayne is represented as racially other, having a mother who is half-Chinese and half-Arab.

These, of course, are very small deviations from the norm, but they are present nonetheless. So what does that mean? Do Batman heroes represent the norm of society, and I’m just nit-picking a few small exceptions, or does this argument fail to apply to the Batman universe?

At the end of the day, I’m not sure that I have a conclusion. I’m not even sure if there is a conclusion to reach. There are many ways in which this argument rings true in the Batman universe, but there are also ways in which it deviates.

And either way, whether or not this rule applies, I have to admit, the level of variety that the Batman comics has is part of why I love the universe so much. Seeing so many issues explored, through so many different characters, is a truly fascinating experience, and one that I wish I saw in more fictional universes.

The Faulty Queer Representation in Gotham

So I’ve been watching Gotham lately.

Let’s get one thing straight (tee hee) before I begin – I am not watching this show because of its promises to represent a wide range of people and sexual orientations. I am watching this show because I am a huge Batman geek, and I’m just so sadly amused by the prospect of seeing tiny baby Brucie when he was still all shy and awkward around girls.

Because if I was watching this show specifically for its representation of sexual orientations, I don’t think I’d be enjoying it as much as I am.

The first two seasons were somewhat limited in their definition of ‘sexual representation’, because they only ever featured bisexual women. Not bisexual men. Not young bisexual girls (despite the fact that they totally could explore young Selina Kyle’s bisexuality – but, no, it never gets a mention in the show). Just over-eighteen, totally hot girls who make out with each other without ever really speaking, and then run off to their more serious relationships with men. Even as a bisexual woman myself, I am disappointed by their definition of ‘representation’.

But then season three rolled around, and they did something that promised change.

Drum roll please.

Season three of Gotham introduced a bisexual male character!

I think.

You see, it’s never really really been made clear what Oswald Cobblepot’s sexual orientation is. I’m assuming that he’s supposed to be bisexual only because his character is based on the Penguin from the Batman comic books, TV shows, movies, and video games, and previous incarnations of his character has shown an interest in women before. As far as I know, this is the first time that Oswald has been revealed to have an interest in men as well. So I think he’s bisexual.

But, really, who the hell knows?

Because, yes, Oswald’s non-heterosexual orientation has only just been revealed in the show, but even still, they haven’t had him or anyone around him actually say that he isn’t heterosexual. The only reason that we know he isn’t is because he has confessed to having romantic feelings for another man. He never told anyone that he’s gay or bisexual, nobody around him expressed any surprise at discovering that he has feelings for another man (despite the fact that this is the first time that he’s expressed romantic feelings for anyone at all), and even weirder, the conflict between these two men seems to be that Edward (the one who Oswald has feelings for) is straight, and yet nobody is outright saying that this is the conflict. Which is weird, because there have been many opportunities for him or the people around him to state as much.

For example, when Edward learned that Oswald has feelings for him, he could have taken the opportunity to say something along the lines of, “but I’m not into men”, but he didn’t. Instead, he just seemed completely unaware that this was even a possibility at first, and then vaguely disturbed when it finally sunk in, and all of this without ever actually giving a reason for him to feel this way besides what the audience can fill in for themselves.

The writers of Gotham seem to be trying to treat the relationship between Oswald and Edward the same way that they would any relationship between a straight couple, which is a nice idea. I understand where it’s coming from, I do – it’s the same argument that many people take toward the fact that J.K. Rowling never textually stated that Dumbledore is gay. “It was never necessary to mention,” some people say, “because gay people aren’t special or different from straight people. They’re just people.”

Which is true. Gay people are just people. And writing queer characters who seem to be in denial about the fact that their relationships are at all different from heterosexual relationships is most certainly better than writing queer characters who only represent stereotypes around queer people. But at the same time, real life queer people are aware that they’re queer.

When I, as a bisexual woman, start to have feelings for a heterosexual woman, I’m totally aware that that’s the conflict between us. I don’t think that simply getting rid of her boyfriend will suddenly earn her a spot in my arms. If I decide to confess my feelings to her (which, honestly, I rarely would if I knew that she was straight), I would do so entirely within the context that she naturally does not feel attraction toward people of my gender. I might even use words like ‘straight’ and ‘bisexual’.

And even outside of that context, as much as being bisexual is not something that defines me, it isn’t something that I just completely ignore either. Sometimes I or my friends will make jokes about it, or play around with the stereotypes around it, or, hell, even just mention it! While I don’t know if there are many opportunities for the writers of Gotham to have Oswald play around with the stereotypes around being a bisexual or gay man, the fact that they absolutely refuse to have him even just say the word does strike me as a little odd and not truly reflective of the true queer experience.

Because as much as I know that Gotham does not exist in our reality, the reality in which is does exist does not seem to harbour a society all too different from our own. I would assume that the same prejudices and difficulties that queer people face in our world exist there as well, and the fact that Edward, Barbara, Butch, Tabatha, and Oswald’s bitter maid all receive the news of his crush just the same as they would if he was expressing attraction to a woman just doesn’t seem likely. It seems like the writers’ attempts to represent queer characters without actually having to discuss any of the issues that queer people face.

Which, don’t get me wrong – not every story featuring queer characters has to be an in-depth exploration of how difficult it can be to be a queer person, but the least that the writers can do is faithfully represent how this person would go through the world.

At the end of the day, I’m still going to watch Gotham. Like I said, I’m not watching it for the queer representation – I’m watching it because baby Ozzy and baby Eddie are just so adorable! All that I hope is that the writers learn and improve with time.