TikToks about the anxiety of making your own doctor’s appointment later resurfacing as Instagram Reels six months down the line. Memes about poor financial management. The "I’m just a girl" trope. Trends comparing our parents’ achievements at our age to our current struggles with filing taxes or ordering at a restaurant. These are all markers of a broader cultural phenomenon: the self-infantilization of Gen Z.

Millennials have long been scrutinized for similar behaviors, often accompanied by their signature #adulting posts, lamenting basic responsibilities as though they were extraordinary feats. But Gen Z has taken it further, embedding self-infantilization deeply into its humor and online identity. While we can chuckle at a meme at our own expense, this content normalizes behavioral patterns that might otherwise be frowned upon in the ‘real world’. The question is, why is this such a big part of our generation’s collective psyche, and why does it matter?

As societal expectations evolve, so do the metrics of adulthood. Previous generations often followed a more linear life trajectory: marrying young, having children early, and securing stable employment and homeownership soon after. In contrast, Gen Z navigates a world where these milestones are increasingly delayed or, for many, entirely redefined.

This shift is both cultural and economic. The rise of low-cost flights and increased accessibility of international travel have made self-exploration a higher priority than settling down early. The internet has broadened our understanding of possible lifestyles, exposing us to more career paths and educational opportunities. Unlike past generations, who largely measured their progress against their immediate communities, Gen Z has an infinite array of reference points from social media – someone our age seems to have it all figured out, while someone else is making cereal in a plastic bag.

At the same time, material conditions play a crucial role. The housing market is in a dire state, the cost of living is astronomical, and many young adults find themselves living with parents or roommates for far longer than anticipated. When financial independence itself feels unattainable, other ‘traditional’ markers of adulthood – like marriage, parenthood, or homeownership – begin to seem like distant dreams. On the other hand, a vacation, a new wardrobe, or an aesthetic coffee machine feels like a more immediate, achievable goal. When the autonomy we seek is an uphill battle, the instant gratification of consumerism becomes an avoidance technique that puts a band-aid over the bullet hole.

The pervasive sense of "not feeling like a real adult" stems from our reliance on outdated metrics of maturity. If we divorce adulthood from milestones like marriage, children, and property ownership, we are left with an unsettling realization: true adulthood is not just about external achievements but about cultivating fundamental life skills.

Gen Z currently ranges from ages 13 to 28, and for those of us in our twenties, some basic competencies should already be second nature. You should be able to make your own doctor’s appointment. You should be able to navigate your hair salon’s website. You should be able to call your bank independently when your card does not work. Yet, many young adults approach these simple tasks with a mix of dread and performative helplessness. Simultaneously, it is important to acknowledge that when Gen Z does take up space and agency, it can be met with skepticism by older generations, perpetuating the idea that we are not ‘adult enough’.

The self-infantilization mindset often serves as a convenient escape from accountability and personal responsibility. Instead of heading to the airline counter to resolve a flight issue, we send frantic voice notes in group chats (or, in the case of NYU Abu Dhabi students, spam-call the Office of Student Mobility at 4 a.m.). Instead of addressing dissatisfaction with an employer, we quit without notice. Instead of having an awkward breakup conversation, we ghost. Instead of telling a friend they hurt us, we cut them off and talk to our therapists instead.

These behaviors are not just personal quirks; they reflect a broader decline in essential social skills. Conflict resolution, self-advocacy, and emotional regulation are all necessary for navigating adulthood, yet we increasingly opt out of difficult conversations in favor of avoidance. This is not just about personal inconvenience — it has long-term implications for how we function within a society. Independence and personal responsibility are crucial survival skills, and while institutions like NYUAD offices or parental safety nets may temporarily soften the blow, they will not always be there to step in.

Self-deprecating humor often starts as a way to cope with external pressures and societal expectations, turning self-infantilizing jokes into a means of handling the difficulties adulthood brings. We bond over shared struggles — navigating the job market, meeting family expectations, and dealing with an uncertain world. This kind of content offers comfort, making us feel less alone and part of a larger collective experience. However, in normalizing these jokes, we risk reinforcing the very behaviors we mock, inadvertently portraying ourselves as incapable of managing basic responsibilities. When we continuously celebrate our alleged incompetence, we do not just normalize a version of adulthood where basic life skills remain out of reach; we also normalize avoidance as an acceptable response rather than something to overcome. Humor does more than reflect reality; it shapes it, influencing how we see ourselves and the expectations we set for adulthood.

Adulthood does not have to be defined by traditional milestones, but it should at least be defined by independence and accountability. Being independent is not just a burden, it is a necessity, a liberating step in personal growth, and the most rewarding part of growing up.