At various points in my life, I have apparently been a proud member of multiple demographic clubs, none of which I remember signing up for.
Born in 1963, I was considered to be on the tail end of the WWII Baby Boom movement, aptly named the Boomer generation. This label came with a fairly strong identity package, complete with cultural references (moonshots and marches), music (the Rolling Stones and disco), and a reputation for changing the world somewhere between Woodstock and shoulder pads.
Then, after years of being a late-Boomer, someone decided I was actually a “Cusp” kid, not quite old enough to be fully Gen X but not really identifying with the sock hop generation. I was a hybrid – a little of this, a little of that. Like a human version of a blended smoothie.
And now, I find myself reassigned yet again, this time to something called Generation Jones. As Jonesers, we inherited the can-do outlook of our early Boomer parents but faced a different reality as we entered adulthood facing the economic struggles of the 1970s and 1980s. The name comes from the idea of “keeping up with the Joneses” and the term “jonesing” which means to yearn for something.
Generation Jones is an interesting concept. The idea is that we grew up with one set of expectations and experiences and entered adulthood in a completely different reality. We may have been raised on rotary phones and record players, but we also learned to master email, smartphones, and whatever this current situation is with streaming passwords.
We are a classic mixing of analog and digital – highly practical but aspirational when it comes to change. In other words, we like nostalgia, but we’re not trapped by it. It is, in many ways, a flattering description.
But here is the problem. It’s still a label, and like all labels, it attempts to take millions of individual lives, personalities, ambitions, reinventions, heartbreaks, hard-earned wrinkles, and really good hair days, and tuck them neatly into a single, tidy definition.
It’s an ambitious effort, but is it accurate?
By the time we reach our 60s, we have lived too many versions of ourselves to be summed up by a generational tag.
We have been daughters, partners, professionals, caregivers, adventurers, reinvention specialists, and occasional rebels. Some of us followed traditional paths. Some of us rewrote the script entirely. We have had first acts, second acts, and for many of us, we are deep into what might be the most interesting act yet.
And when you consider how demographics, geography, economics, religion, family, experience and culture deeply impact how uniquely our lives are shaped, a broad generational label fits like a pair of Earth shoes (if you know, you know.)
To be fair, generational labels are not entirely useless. They can offer context and help explain shared cultural touchpoints, economic realities, and the broader forces that shaped our early years.
They can even be a little fun when they spark recognition like the collective nod all the Generation Jones people experience when we hear the first chords of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody. Yes, we remember that song, and we get the reference, like what it felt like to cruise with our friends through the McDonald’s parking lot on Friday night, singing along to the car radio.
But strict generational labels miss everything that came after – the reinventions, the pivots, the choices we made that had nothing to do with the year we were born and everything to do with who we decided to become. And today, they surely miss the fact that many women over 60 are not winding down. They are ramping up with energy and enthusiasm for new chapters and big challenges.
Perhaps the most liberating part of being in this stage of life is that we get to decide what fits and what does not.
If you like the idea of Generation Jones, embrace it. If you feel a connection to the Boomer identity, keep it. If all of it feels like a poor attempt at capturing something far more dynamic, you are free to ignore it entirely. Far from being a marketing segment or a neatly defined cohort, we are women with history, perspective, curiosity, style, and a growing sense that this chapter might be the most interesting one yet.
And if someone insists on putting a name to that, I have a suggestion. Call it The Brilliant Age. That’s the name I gave my blog, because I believe women in their sixth decade are brilliant, both in their wisdom and their ability to truly shine.
If you are looking for a little weekly inspiration to keep that momentum going, I invite you to join me for Spark 60. It is one minute, one idea, delivered each week to remind you that growth, style, curiosity, and possibility do not belong to any one generation.
How comfortable are you with labels? Do you think you fit any one label? Which one and why?
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