Why Younger Voices Matter: A Gen X Reflection

Laura Bock , , ,

Why Younger Voices Matter: A Gen X Reflection on Politics, Age, and Being Pushed Aside

 

I had a conversation with my mom the other day — one of those deceptively simple chats that suddenly turns into a crash course in generational politics. We were talking about age limits and term limits for Congress and the Senate.

Light stuff.
Totally non-controversial.
What could possibly go wrong?

It started with me saying I was glad Nancy Pelosi wasn’t running again because, frankly, she’s old.
My mom did not love that sentiment.

She took it personally, as if I’d just insulted the entire Silent Generation in one breath.

I wasn’t trying to be cruel — I was being realistic.

And honestly? She needed the reminder: Senator Dianne Feinstein died in office last year while still actively “serving.” That’s not public service; that’s political hospice care.

And it’s not about disrespecting elders; it’s about acknowledging reality.

If you are nearly 90 and cannot remember briefings, cannot physically attend hearings, or need aides to tell you how to vote, you should not be writing or shaping policy for millions of people.

But this is the generational divide in action.
Where my mom sees “experience,” I see a political system that refuses to let go of power even as its leaders literally age out of the ability to wield it.

When Will They Step Aside?

The conversation drifted to Sherrod Brown running (again) for Senate in Ohio. And I asked — genuinely, not rhetorically:

“When are these older politicians going to get it? Voters want younger blood.”

This isn’t ageism. It’s representation.
It’s acknowledging that America has changed dramatically since the 1960s, and the people shaping policy should have more than a passing acquaintance with the world we live in right now.

Politics shouldn’t be a lifetime achievement award.
It shouldn’t be a retirement plan.
And it sure as hell shouldn’t be a job you die doing.

A huge part of why people don’t vote is because they don’t see themselves reflected in the system. They don’t hear their concerns. They don’t feel represented. And honestly, they’re not wrong.

How can we tell younger generations that the system works for them when the system barely even acknowledges their existence?
 
And here’s the Gen X twist:
We’ve been here before.

Gen X: The Original Ignored Generation

 
We were the original generation pushed aside by the Boomers—the ones told to sit quietly, take what we’re given, and be grateful. At the same time, the Boomers hoarded opportunity, attention, and political power like a dragon sitting on a pile of gold.
Gen X is the middle child of American generations: too young to matter, too old to be exciting, and always overlooked.
 
That’s why we relate so hard to Millennials and Gen Z stepping up to run for office.
We see them shaking the cage, pushing back, refusing to accept the “Wait your turn” nonsense. We recognize that fire because we carried it too, even if no one noticed.
 
And honestly? It feels good to cheer them on.
It feels good to say:
Yes. Finally. Someone who understands the world as it is now—not as it was 40 years ago.
Younger candidates aren’t perfect, but they bring something Washington has lacked for far too long—relevance. Lived experience in the world we currently inhabit. A willingness to question systems instead of worshiping them. An understanding of technology, climate reality, economic struggle, and the radical shift in how Americans live and work today.
 
None of this is about disrespecting the older generations in leadership; it’s about demanding a government that looks like the people it claims to represent. A Congress full of octogenarians cannot understand the economic anxiety of 25-year-olds drowning in student loans, nor the exhaustion of 45-year-olds juggling kids, aging parents, and a paycheck that hasn’t kept up with inflation since the first Bush administration.
Maybe that’s the generational difference my mom helped me realize: older voters often see long tenure as proof of stability; younger voters see it as stagnation. Gen X sits right in the middle—old enough to understand the system, but young enough to know it desperately needs new blood.

And Then We Hit the Minimum Wage Debate…

Because this wasn’t enough generational whiplash, we also ended up talking about the federal minimum wage.

My mom genuinely thought $7.25 was “decent.”
She thought $16 an hour was a lot of money.

Why? Because when my dad started working at Ford in the 1960s, he made $1.75 an hour — and that was enough to buy a house, support a family, and build a retirement.

I had to explain that if minimum wage had actually kept up with inflation, productivity, cost of living, and basic economic reality, it would be $26 an hour today.

She looked stunned.
I was stunned she didn’t know.

But again — generational gaps.
What looked like a “good wage” in 1968 is poverty in 2025.

Boomers lived in an economy with guardrails.
Gen X, Millennials, and Gen Z were handed the wheel after the guardrails had already been ripped out.

 

The Conversation That Stuck With Me

That chat with my mom reminded me of something important:
Our generations aren’t just living in different political realities — we’re living in different economic universes too.

Older generations still believe stability is earned through loyalty and long tenure.
Younger generations know stability barely exists anymore and that leadership must evolve to meet the moment.

Gen X sits between them, the frustrated middle child — old enough to remember what once worked, young enough to see clearly what no longer does.

And maybe that’s why our voices matter right now.
We understand the past, but we also know it’s not coming back.
We know what it’s like to be ignored, and we refuse to let it happen again.

If America wants a future that actually reflects its people, it’s time for a Congress that does too.