If someone were to tell me they’ve never seen or shared a meme in their life, I'd probably assume they’re either leading an incredibly healthy lifestyle by avoiding social media or they’re an extraterrestrial. Jokes aside, my eyes are glued to my phone every night as I share an assortment of memes with friends and family.

The fact that we’ve mastered communication without uttering a single word might suggest that we've either become extremely advanced, simply lazy, or have reverted to the days of cavemen who used drawings to communicate before language existed. It's a debatable topic, so I’ll leave it at that. As a millennial, I attribute this meme culture to our generation. Yes, it’s us who found a new way to share our collective struggles, and I stand by this assertion firmly.

For those who aren’t clear on who millennials are, let me clarify. Millennials are those born between 1981 and 1996, currently aged between 28 and 43. Now that that’s settled, let’s proceed. Recently, I watched a reel that said millennials are the kind of generation who couldn’t talk back to their parents and now can’t respond to their children either. It’s not that we were scared; we were genuinely terrified of answering back to our parents. By the time we mustered the courage, we had families and children of our own whom we strive not to be aggressive towards, aiming to break the cycle of generational trauma.

Do you know where the term "meme" comes from, or are you content with your own interpretation? I’m here to enlighten you, whether you know it or not. The word "meme" originates from the Greek word "mimema," meaning imitation. It was coined in 1976 by British evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins in his book ‘The Selfish Gene’.

Memes symbolize our lives; they imitate and reflect our realities, hence the term. You might have heard terms like "situationship" (if not, it’s time to check your Vitamin D levels and start using retinol—you’re really getting old). We’ve entered what I term "memeship"—a situation or friendship where we don’t converse but share memes periodically. It’s the closest real-world equivalent to the Jai-Veeru or Chandler-Joey relationship. Laughing out loud, I can’t even think of a Gen Z equivalent.

Why do I assert that we are the originators of meme culture? Because we long to be understood and needed a platform to vent our generational and shared traumas. We’re the most misunderstood generation of our times—too old for some things and too young for others. We’ve been tasked with being overachievers and people pleasers since childhood. Some of us were seen as the last hope for saving marriages, while others were born simply because family planning was a distant concept. Our destinies seemed predetermined from birth: what we would become, when we would marry, whom we would marry, when to have children, and when to retire.

Currently, we try to give our children the freedom to live their dreams, as we live vicariously through their lives. Most importantly, we’re acutely aware of our own shortcomings, which partly explains our low self-esteem.

We grew up with the early days of the internet and social media, experiencing the rise of platforms like Facebook, Reddit, and Twitter, where memes started to gain popularity. Instagram and Facebook opened a world for us to connect with like-minded individuals and revisit our memories. In situations where we realize we can’t change anything, we laugh through memes.

Memes are truly the perfect imitation of our lives. For a generation that was either too slow to respond or too scared it provided a quick and relatable way to express complex emotions and opinions. Since we are stuck in the middle of being too old for one thing and too young for another, memes foster a feeling of belonging and understanding within our generation. It's our escapism and response to everyday stress. Stuck with an existential crisis, memes play a huge role in defining and expressing our personal and collective identity. They reflect the values, interests, and characteristics of our generation.

We’re not the YOLO generation because we live in the present. We open savings accounts as soon as we have extra money, dream of wearing high-end labels, but often gift them to friends and family. Although it’s disheartening to see how we’ve evolved, we find comfort in remembering simpler times: playing until our faces turned red from the sun, carrying heavy backpacks to school, spending summer vacations at our grandparents' houses, and hosting modest birthday parties. We recognize how much time has passed and how we’ve become anxious beings striving to do our best for our children. While we may be uncertain about parenting, we’re well-versed in what not to do.

We are the pioneers of meme culture because we’ve provided ample material for it. Our lives, filled with experiences, are shared and laughed about through memes. From not knowing how to respond when everyone sings "Happy Birthday" to struggling with unwanted conversations, memes help us express what other generations may not. They serve as our social commentary on everything from politics to pop culture. As we’ve become more vocal about anxiety, depression, and stress online, we’ve found solace in mixing these serious topics with humor, making them more palatable. Memes about mental health, coping mechanisms, and self-care reflect this increased dialogue and collective struggle. Research on social media trends, including studies by the Pew Research Center, shows millennials' significant role in shaping online culture and meme dissemination.

Now, I don’t mean to discredit Gen Z and Gen X; I’m glad they’ve advanced meme culture. I just want to give credit where it’s due—to the founding members of meme culture. Nowadays, almost all generations exchange memes and feel related to them, but I am sure they don’t feel what we do. We were the first to experience the exhilarated joy of this meme-sharing, meme-making culture. You might argue with me on any other point—discredit our generation from every other social change, but not this. It is the one thing that we gave to the world and, most importantly, to ourselves. It took a lot of courage to acknowledge our own toxic positivity and delayed decisions, but we opened this door and took joy in how well it is carried by our successors.