Thursday 20 September 2018

Don't shoot me down, but us noughties kids are in no man's land

Millennials had a far more wholesome childhood than my generation, which has been consigned to perpetual anxiety, writes Joe Corcoran

Barring another 9/11-style game changer, I'd expect that toddler to grow up on a surer footing than my generation did.
Barring another 9/11-style game changer, I'd expect that toddler to grow up on a surer footing than my generation did.

The publication of new data last week suggesting that millennial purchasing power will outstrip Generation X's by 2020 has provided me with occasion to reflect a little bit on the peculiarly anxious condition of those of us born right on their heels, at the precipice of the 21st Century. The plight of the noughties child, as it were.

It is an anxiousness born, I believe, out of a stark severing of ties with the century we were just departing. A severing which came quite literally out of the clear blue sky, at a time when our collective cognitive capacities were only in their nascent stages of development.

I for one was in what must have been my second week of junior infants when American Airlines Flight 11 and United Airlines Flight 175 were flown into the walls of the World Trade Centre in New York. Of the event itself I recall nothing. Of the wars that followed I remember only my five-year-old self cautiously declining to condemn Saddam Hussein out loud, for fear that, like any good super-villain, he had secretly placed surveillance cameras on every person in the world, and would exact some terrible revenge against me if I ever gave him cause to take offence at my words.

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