That's just like, your opinion, man

In the late '90s and early 2000s, calling something "affordable" was straightforward. Most people understood intuitively that "affordable" meant "affordable to me," not necessarily everyone else. Today, however, something subtle but important has shifted in the way people react to these universal-sounding adjectives. The result? A small wave of defensiveness, confusion, and frustration.

I recently noticed this shift while watching YouTube reviews of watches. Reviews now frequently include explicit qualifying phrases like "in my opinion" or "for me personally." At first glance, these phrases seem unnecessary—after all, wasn’t subjectivity always implied? Nobody really believed terms like "affordable" or "expensive" were universally applicable facts. But these qualifications aren't random linguistic quirks—they signal deeper cultural shifts happening beneath the surface.

Post GenX

Millennials, the generation roughly born between 1981 and 1996, are now moving firmly into middle age. They bring with them expectations shaped by technology, the internet, and unprecedented exposure to diverse opinions. They've grown up with social media, a landscape where expressing personal feelings openly and immediately is not just permitted but expected. This openness has fundamentally reshaped how they—and increasingly society at large—approach language and emotion.

So, why exactly are adjectives like "affordable" triggering stronger reactions today?

First, there's the increased sensitivity toward implied judgments. Saying something is "affordable" might unintentionally suggest that if someone can't afford it, they're outside the normal or expected range. Consider how someone might feel hearing a watch described as affordable at $1,000 when their comfortable range tops out at $200. There's an unspoken implication: If you can't afford this, perhaps you haven't achieved what society expects financially. It’s not just about money—it's implicitly tied to self-worth, achievement, and social status.

This kind of sensitivity isn't new—people have always had emotional reactions to discussions about wealth or status. What's different now is how openly and frequently these reactions are voiced. Millennials, shaped by platforms where every thought can instantly become public, expect transparency and humility in communication. They’re not content with implied subjectivity. If someone presents an opinion as a universal truth, younger audiences often push back, sometimes fiercely, to reassert their individual perspectives.

Second, this trend is reinforced by broader cultural changes in emotional expression. Decades ago, emotions were typically managed privately, rarely spilling into public interactions. Today, however, expressing how one feels publicly is normalized and encouraged. Social media has become both catalyst and amplifier of this phenomenon, with every minor feeling or irritation now easily and instantly shareable.

Expression ≠ Validation

But there’s a catch. While it’s increasingly common to express feelings openly, many mistakenly assume that others naturally care about these feelings. This assumption, driven by social media’s constant validation loops—likes, comments, retweets—can lead to confusion or disappointment. Expressing yourself doesn't guarantee that others find your emotions meaningful or even relevant. Millennials, especially, grapple with balancing openness against a harsher reality: Not everyone values your emotional expressions equally.

This interplay creates another layer of complexity: the tension between openly shared emotions and the actual emotional resilience of younger generations. Older observers often wonder aloud, “Are younger people less capable of managing their emotions today?” It’s an understandable perception, but perhaps misses the mark slightly. Millennials aren’t necessarily less emotionally resilient—they’re just culturally conditioned to voice discomfort rather than suppress it silently.

The linguistic consequence of this shift is visible in almost every medium. Universal adjectives and adverbs, once casually accepted, now prompt creators to hedge statements explicitly. YouTube reviewers aren’t just protecting themselves from backlash; they’re acknowledging an audience trained to expect nuance and qualification.

Interestingly, this movement toward qualification might have unintended side effects. In striving to respect subjective experiences and avoid offending sensitivities, communication risks becoming overly cautious or even tedious. Too many qualifiers can dilute clarity and directness. It’s a balance we haven’t fully mastered yet.

Authenticity vs. Authority

Adjacent to this, there’s the phenomenon of authenticity versus authority. Millennials, shaped by constant exposure to advertising, misinformation, and endless online opinions, prioritize authenticity over expert authority. They’d rather hear someone admit subjectivity and personal bias than confidently state a universal "fact." Authenticity implies humility and honesty, qualities increasingly valued over assertive expertise.

So, what does all this mean as Millennials continue to age and eventually dominate societal norms? It likely signals an ongoing evolution toward careful, inclusive, and openly subjective communication. It also raises interesting questions:

• How will future generations react against Millennials’ emotional openness?
• Will they push back toward stoicism, reclaiming emotional privacy as a form of rebellion?
• Or will emotional openness and explicit subjectivity become deeply ingrained and persist indefinitely?

As these cultural norms shift, one thing remains clear: Language will continue evolving to reflect deeper societal values. Whether describing watches, cars, houses, or simply opinions on life, universal adjectives and adverbs are becoming less universal by the day. It's not just language that’s changing—it’s our collective understanding of what words represent about us as individuals and as members of society.