Have you heard about AI
attempting murder to avoid shutdown? How about the warning from scientists, informing us that humanity is just
three years from surpassing the Paris Agreement’s 1.5°C target? Or the
recent surge of unemployment in today’s increasingly volatile job market? An
iced latte now averages 29 AED. This is the world when it is my turn to be an adult.
Since the
creation of the internet in 1893, the dissemination of news has grown. Wherever someone is in the world, one simple Google search can reveal endless articles about current events. Yet, that accessibility often leaves many feeling dread for the era that will inevitably come once diplomas are in our hands.
In the world of Gen Z, when inflation rates skyrocket, conflicts between countries become weekly, and headlines scream missiles, invasions, rising death tolls, many of us brace ourselves for the relentless barrage of news. The existence of world crises is not new to just our generation, but the reaction to how we cope with the information has shown itself to be quite different from our ancestors. For Gen Z, our first instinct is to open social media, scroll through content, and laugh at memes that pour humor or satire on to the reality we cannot control.
Remember the COVID-19 pandemic, when the world was forced into lockdown amidst a global health crisis, businesses shut down, schools became Zoom’s biggest sponsor, and instead of “catfishing”, we had “mask fishing”? The reaction of Gen Z? Memes. Videos of supposed
Karen’s hoarding toilet paper to cope with panic buying. That one picture of Senator Bernie Sanders, quoting:
“I am once again asking you…”, used to advise people to get vaccinated and stay indoors. We cannot forget about the collection of online school jokes, ranging from bad internet connections, sleeping during class, or the honorable
“I’m not a cat” mishap during a Zoom court.
On the outside, turning collective trauma into relatable punchlines may seem insensitive – disconnected even. Why is laughing at something that hurts millions socially acceptable? But the truth is, that is just how our generation has grown to process the chaos. Memes and sarcasm, as strange as it sounds, have become a type of language that does not speak in direct vulnerability. It avoids opening up space for pessimistic approaches; instead, it chooses humor to induce positive emotions even in dire situations. In fact, experts have agreed that humor offers
emotional and mental benefits, being a reliable source of
relieving stress. During COVID-19, when anxiety, fear, and inherent loneliness from being isolated were jarring, humor, in the form of “memes”, helped people connect while still “social distancing.” A study found that
47% of college students reported engaging with memes as a way to cope with symptoms of declining mental health. Furthermore, anxious individuals who were engaged with the sharing and observing of memes were more likely to experience improved mood. Laughter triggers dopamine release, reducing amounts of stress and anxiety: a coping response that becomes crucial during times of uncertainty, isolation, and fear.
But while humor is often a way to connect with others, it can also hide the depths of what we actually feel. There is a fine line between laughing at our pain and laughing to avoid it. That is where I start to question: how much is too much? Sure, memes make coping feel easier, but they also make hiding feel safer. Vulnerability takes well… vulnerability. It takes time, space, and in most cases, professional help. But therapy, especially in this economy, is a luxury most of us cannot dream of affording. So, we joke instead.
Do not get me wrong – memes are brilliant: they remind us we are not alone and act as distractions from the factors we cannot control. They help us cope, but they should not be the only way we cope. Healing cannot happen solely through irony. At some point, we have to step outside the joke, confront what hurts, and be vulnerable to the reality we will inevitably have to face.
Sabria Dizon is a Staff Writer. Email them at feedback@thegazelle.org.