It is 4 a.m. in Philadelphia and I have a question that can’t wait.
“Do you have an air fryer?” I text my sister-in-law. “If so, WTF is an air fryer?”
I could easily look the answer up online, but I prefer to ask her. I know she’ll give it to me straight, without using model numbers or the word “innovative.”
Another thing is that I don’t want to know how much an air fryer costs. I’ve seen a lot of posts about them on social media recently and some of them are from the very same people who have asked me point-blank how I can afford to travel so often. The obvious answer is that I don’t spend my money on small appliances. But I can’t really say that because I have no idea how extravagant a purchase an air fryer is. I’d like to keep it that way. If I had a number, I’d be tempted to use it, clapping back about how many flights to Morocco I could buy for every picture of air-fried chicken cutlets they post.
If I had to guess, I’d say that the air fryer is related to the InstantPot. For the longest time, I thought that was just a supped-up version of the Crock Pot, but I’ve been told that it is so much more. It’s a pressure cooker and a rice maker and a plate warmer. It can also make yogurt, if that’s something you’re into. I’m not. But sometimes I pretend to be just to fit in.
Fit in with who, you ask? Well, with other adults. Women, mostly. But men too. Everyone loves to cook these days. If they’re not talking about InstantPots or an air fryers specifically, then they’re trading recipes or recommendations on specialty grocery items. I have little to contribute, but I try to keep the conversation going because I want to be part of the club. I want to be recognized as an adult even if I don’t have fancy kitchen gadgets or opinions on butter. Usually, it’s not that hard. People love talking about their InstantPots.
‘’Does this one work with the mobile app?” I ask my friend, my face mere inches from her machine.
“It does,” she confirms. “So if I’m upstairs or at work or something, I can turn it down without being here.”
“Wow,” I reply. “That’s pretty cool.”
And it is actually. It’s a great feature, even if it’s not one I see myself needing. It is only in my wildest dreams that I would ever have occasion to send my deluxe crock pot a text message. Quite frankly, it is a stretch to consider my life having an upstairs.
I watch my friend close the lid, which looks suspiciously like a bank vault, and push no less than 45 buttons. “See? Not hard!” she says. “You’d like it.”
“Maybe I’ll get one,” I reply, stepping back from the machine as it hisses. I know I’m just making small talk, but I still get a little panicked by the thought of buying something that takes eight hours to make oatmeal.
“BURN!” the machine screeches, as if on cue. “BURN!”
I gasp. Is the InstantPot also a polygraph machine? I don’t know how it knows, but it knows. I am not a real adult.
I had trouble fitting in with my demographic long before the InstantPot became a household name. I don’t watch Game of Thrones or do bikram or dabble in cryptocurrencies. I don’t have children or own a home or outright hate my job. I never planned a wedding. A lot of my fellow adults don’t know what to talk to me about, which I can forgive. I don’t mind being a listener when the conversation is about HBO or potty training.
The problem is that a lot of people don’t seem to take me seriously when I talk about myself, often at their request. They can barely tolerate 30 seconds about the aerial classes I’m taking or the books I’m reading or the blog I’m writing before they pipe up like a malfunctioning InstantPot. “It must be nice,” they snip. “Enjoy it while you can.”
This is the note on which a lot of my casual conversations end. I smile and walk away, silently agreeing that it is very nice indeed to have free time and disposable income and the good sense to spend them as I wish. If only I could be granted as much respect as someone who collects kitchen appliances.
Many people have suggested that this thing about not being taken seriously by other adults is all in my head. But it’s not. I know that because I’m not the only one who experiences it. Many of my peers complain about the same things — about being dismissed from conversations or chided for having free time. Criticized for sleeping late or playing video games or wearing makeup. We are not yet recognized as adults. And we have little hope of getting there until we meet the requirements: marriage; mortgage; children. Until then, we are “millennials” even though we’re approaching 40.
I get angsty when people call me a millennial because it’s a loaded word. It’s not intended to help categorize me, so much as infantilize me. It’s a term that calls out the fact that I haven’t yet reached the status of a “real” adult.
When I ask people not to refer to me that way, they scoff.
“But aren’t you, technically?” they ask.
Technically, no. My birthdate is just on the cusp. Technically, I am part of Generation X. But rather than split hairs on dates, I acknowledge that I present myself like a millennial. I live out of a suitcase and value experiences over material goods. I refuse to eat as casual dining restaurants or use bar soap. I buy a lot of avocados. In my mind, I can admit to acting like a millennial and still take issue with being called one because the word is usually meant as an insult. It is the most succinct way of dismissing me and discounting my ideas.
Even after I explain all this, most people still insist on applying the word.
“I’m just calling you what you are,” they say with a shrug. “Millennial isn’t a put down. It’s just a word.”
If that’s true, I wonder why they refuse to use another word. Like adult. Or grown-up. Woman. Fully formed human being. If millennial is a term on equal footing, then why is there such resistance to saying another?
It’s not just Boomers who don’t want to let me into the adult club. Sometimes the most ardent gatekeepers are people my own age, or just slightly older – the ones who have checked the marriage, children, mortgage boxes. These people have paid their dues and don’t want to let just anyone into the club. They want to know why I should be allowed to join anyway. What experience do I even have? According to them, I have a lot to learn. I can’t know love unless I am married. I don’t understand stress until I buy a house. I have no idea what tired is until I have a child. I cannot possibly grasp the full implications of climate change or immigration reform or health care costs unless I am currently raising the next generation. My experience does not measure up to theirs. Request denied.
The irony in the situation is that this logic is rather childish. Empathy is a virtue bereft of comparison. One needn’t experience the highest levels of pain or pleasure in order for the feelings to be valid. The ability to consider how another person’s experience can be different from your own without it being any less important is the most basic metric of intellectual maturity. And so I take issue when these so-called adults dismiss or discount me. When they quip that traveling solo for six months is probably about the same amount of work as taking two toddlers to Florida for a week or that having the time to read a book is a luxury I should keep to myself, I have to laugh. I mean, who exactly is being childish in this situation? Which of us sounds less like an adult?
The oddest part about the sliding scale of adulthood is that most people accept a broad definition in theory, but seem to have trouble applying it in their personal life. The further removed a person is, the easier it is to grant them leeway. For those who live a little closer – our friends and family – there is a desire to have them play it safe. And the safest path is the most familiar one. Check the boxes.
I don’t agree with that advice. And I don’t follow it either. And anyone who tries to convince me why I should, can go fry air.
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Great post. I am a few weeks shy of 49, have been married and divorced and currently have a boyfriend, own my own apartment, have a career, and have no children. So, some adult stuff and some not? Well, in my experience, of all the things for which people will *forever* categorize you as “not yet an adult” it is the children part. I chose not to have children, I love having freedom and flexibility and disposable income, I love traveling and sleeping late and living life on my terms. I have been called selfish and lazy and worse (I am none of those things, as my closest friends and family will tell you, but it doesn’t matter: apparently procreation is the most selfless act there is….?). Not having children, in many people’s eyes, will mean I never qualify as an adult. The good thing about getting older (and I will welcome turning 50 next year — it keeps getting better and better!) is that I care less and less how others judge me. I think reaching THAT stage is when I truly became an adult.
I couldn’t agree more to everything Lisa said! I’m 39 with no kids, and yes, it’s a waste of ovaries in the eyes of the world if a woman doesn’t use them. How narrow-minded.
I especially love what Lisa says in the end: “The good thing about getting older is that I care less and less how others judge me. I think reaching THAT stage is when I truly became an adult.” Amen to that!
agree 100%. I love that line too. I also feel like life just keeps getting better and better as I age. Yes, my beauty is fading and my energy is waning, but I will take this life I have today over the rat race of my 20s any day. I’m hoping I reach the point of not caring at all about what other people think of me soon enough…
I’ve heard this before and I’m sorry to have you confirm it. I disagree with the idea entirely and not just because I don’t plan to have children. I think it is totally inappropriate to wrap one person’s identity up in the ability to produce another. I mean, to me the implication is just annoying. But I mean, think of the mental anguish that a woman (or man) must feel if they are unable to have children. What does it say about a person who experiences the death of a child? The general attitude of “you are less without a child or you know nothing until you have a child” carries over to people who for whatever reason just can’t. The lack of thought and sensitivity that goes into this situation is just astounding to me.
Anyway, as you can see above, one of the other commenters likes what you wrote and I totally agree! Life does keep getting better and better – as it should for anyone who is living on their own terms. I hope that in the next decade I reach adulthood by your standards… that I won’t care at all what people are whispering about me. I’m getting there. Until then, thank you so much for sharing and putting into words what so many of us want to express.
I live in the rural midwest, so millennial here is definitely used as a bad word. I have lost my cool on more than one ‘friend’ making mention of my son being a millennial as if it is a bad thing. He goes to work every day, supports himself, tries to have little to no debt, paid off his student loans in record time…..but because he has more liberal views he’s a scourge on society. He’s one of the few from his high school class that isn’t married or has kids. At 27, he feels much the same as you around his once closest friends. Everyone wants to be judgmental this days, and it is heartbreaking.
An air fryer is like a mini convection oven. I got one for Christmas, and LOVE it so far! (I am the opposite of you, give me all of the kitchen appliances and gadgets!)
Keep doing you. It appears to me as if you are doing a great job, and you seem happy, which is all that matters.
wow. I’m sorry to hear that your son has to deal with this nonsense too. I used to think that women got hit harder, but that doesn’t seem to be accurate. (I’m thinking of the way conservative news commentators go after victims of school shootings or now this whole uproar with a razorblade commercial). For what it’s worth, one thing that it sounds like you do – and so many “younger” parents do – is refuse to talk down to or about their kids. a lot of my friends speak to their toddlers like they’re actual human beings – it’s amazing. It seems, at least to me, a lot healthier than the attitude of the 70s and 80s where children are seen and not heard or they do not speak unless spoken to or they must sit at a separate table or in another room. In time, I think this will help change the overall tone of the conversation… because you can’t talk down to little kids today without parents losing their shit, so I’m assuming that won’t fly 20 years from now either. GOOD.
also, that is EXACTLY word-for-word how my sister in law explained an air fryer. I’m glad you love it, I really am. but honestly it sounds like a goddamn racket because DON’T YOU HAVE AN OVEN? I’m kidding, of course. you do you. sounds like you are happy and raised a happy kid. thanks for reading.
I for one admire your life, yes, I chose a different path but that’s me. In less then three weeks I will be 68, but it’s just a number. I think people question me if I’m an adult but who cares, I love acting crazy and funny, it’s what makes my grandkids laugh and my husband question my sanity. Live and enjoy your life, I for one am enjoying your travels and a little envious of your life😊❤️
thank you, voula. that’s so sweet of you to say. I hope I have your spirit at 68. :) what good is life if you’re not enjoying it?
“Yup” to all of it.
xx
P.S. I don’t want to ruin the suspense for you Nova, so don’t continue reading if you don’t want to know.
I did a quick check on Amazon how much an airfryer costs (I don’t own one either and I was curious): Amazon’s Choice is $349.90 + taxes. That’s a LOT of tickets to fly across Europe!
omg – STOP IT. I don’t believe it. I refuse to look!!
Cheers. Frick an Airfryer and having to check the boxes. I am an adult even if I have no Mortgage or Marriage, and I can travel out of a tiny suitcase for 6 weeks. I have had the large home sans the masses of appliances, Fostered kids and still get treated as if I only just started fitting in when I got pregnant. Its rubbish.
amen! I think of all the comments this is the one that most surprised me. anyone who fosters kids is entitled to all the respect and then some. xx
well as someone who has kids, a job i dont particularly like and a house…that i HATE mind you, i dont know why you would want to be lumped in this mess anyway lol. you have more courage than i certainly ever could…being a mom does not make you brave, it just makes you scared lol. everyone walks their own path and im happy that i get to follow along on yours :)
aw. thanks lu. I should say that you have always said as much when we see each other… you’ve been nothing but positive, never one to make me feel like I missed the boat, or wasted my “best” years or tick-tock or any of that. so thank you. I enjoy following along with you too… I am waiting to say that I knew the first female baseball commissioner way back when :)
Your best years are the ones you’re in. The one you just left, and the one you’re heading for.
I envy you your freedom, your ability to wander into strange countries, to learn new languages and have all those adventures, but you know what? I’d not change places with you. Your life is cool, and while I envy you that life, it’s also me knowing I never had or wanted the mindset that living that way entails.
Steele is right. If you live in a society that values kids, and you don’t have one, you are always made to feel a bit of a pariah. Like you’re lacking that mother gene and are defective.
Your life suits you (smiles). My life suits me (smiles more). The best part of that is, we both recognize that. And I get to watch you do stuff and envy it, in a nice, warm, armchair traveler way.
Very true! I think what you say about appreciating my experience without wanting to change places is exactly the point… you can not want something while not detracting from it. You use the word “envy” which has a negative connotation to me, but I think I understand what you mean. I sometimes “envy” my friends for their beautiful homes or fancy cars or even sometimes their adorable children. But, at the end of the day, I prefer my existing life because it is whats best for me. It’s nice to find the life that suits you. I wish you well. xx
I think you just ripped open my body and stared deep into my soul. Or you were at the next table last time I was out to dinner with my family.
Aw – I feel you. This is what I mean, so many of us have the same experience. It’s kind of irritating that it happens, but at least we all have each other. Corny as that sounds, it’s nice to know we’re not alone.
This is so real I’m actually crying. I love you so much. You are so brave and beautiful and I’m so PROUD of all that you’ve accomplished! Next time we’re together, let’s toast being at the kid’s table. <3
Aw – thanks Kline. Can’t wait to toast to you. See you in a few :)
I have chosen to measure “adulthood” by the following criteria:
If I choose to eat half a chocolate cake for dinner, will anyone yell at me? If not, I am an adult.
If I am yelled at for my questionable dietary choices, will my counter argument of, “I’m an adult and can make my own choices,” shut them up? If so, I am an adult.
When faced with my friends and romantic partner, I am an adult.
When faced with my mother, I am not an adult.
Adulthood is relative. And air fryers are ridiculous.
Agree! Except the part about the air fryers. To each their own :)
I needed this article. I’m 32,(the baby of the family) and have just impulsively moved across the country to cultivate my passion and creative drive. After an eye-opening summer, that ended in overhearing my family harshly, and openly judging my lifestyle, and intellect, as well as bashing my fiancé and our relationship, it was an easy choice to make. I believe it was the right decision for me because after 7 months of being here, my conversations with my siblings, parents, and other family members have consisted of very informative, and mature conversations. Shockingly exposing aspects of things I had understood from a child’s viewpoint, because that is how everything had been presented to me, before. Leaves me to wonder… WHY?! What was the point of it all? Why keep these things from me, and then look for answers to why I don’t know how to do things like an adult?
hey hey – thanks for reading! I hear you… so many of us have been through exactly what you’re describing. At the end of the day, the real mark of adulthood is taking the steps to do what is best for you. If that means moving across the country – good for you. If you change your mind about that later – fine. You just keep doing you.
It sounds like you’re on the right track. I wish you well.