by Oana-Maria Moldovan
When I was younger I had all the phases my mother told me I would have – I promise you, this is relevant.
I was around thirteen or fourteen at the peak of Tumblr and Kik. I danced and spun and sometimes even jumped through all of them.
From the grungy rebel child to the bimbo-esque teenager with black-thin brows and platinum hair, I really went through them all.
So, when I say that I understand what it means to search and search fot your identity, and to fall into a lake full of despair for not finding it soon enough, trust me that I actually do.
It’s something inevitable, to have an identity crisis at the edge of your teenage years, or that is what my mother used to tell me when I had mine. I was different, you see, just like every other fourteen-year-old around me thought they were.
What I mean to say is that I truly get it, on such a deep level that I can’t even express it with the most eloquent of words out.
Or maybe I no longer understand. Not entirely. I am an older Gen Z after all. Even though I grew up with social media, the pressure was different back then.
The reality is that today’s younger generation (the younger Gen Z and older Gen Alpha) have a lot more to deal with regarding social interactions and views than all the previous generations had to. All their lives are displayed for the whole world to see and judge and they have a lot more to lose by doing so.
This is where different types of teenage identity crises come into play.
But, what is a teenager?
The concept of a teenager emerged in the 40s in North America – and not so much in other parts of the world – as a result of societal changes, including restrictions on child labor, the popularity of high schools, and the advent of automobiles.
This created communal spaces for teenagers and led to the development of teen culture. The rise of consumerism – and this is important to note – was also a reason why it happened the way it did.
It took about two decades for the idea of a teenager being not a child but also not an adult to reach European (mostly in North and West) countries and Australia. After that, around the mid-70s and early ‘80s, the concept ended up being understood on a larger scale in Eastern Europe, Central and Eastern Asia, and later on in North Africa.
What I want you to take from this is that the more oppressed a group of people was – or, in some
cases, still is – the later the state or country allowed adolescents to exist outside of the “grown-up world.”
Teen culture has evolved, there is no questioning that, marked by different subcultures and media representations. Movies and TV shows in the ‘80s, ‘90s, and early 2000s played a significant role in shaping that culture.
A big movie around that time that shaped both what we see when we think of teenagers and the way they see themselves around their peers was “The Breakfast Club.”
A classic coming-of-age “brat pack” film from 1985, it follows five high school students from different social cliques who spend a Saturday in detention together. Throughout the day, they break down barriers and discover they have more in common than they initially thought.
While the idea of stereotyping young people is inherently bad it also did some good. By exploring
different cliques, it showed how young people but themselves into categories but these groups also allowed teens to choose their identities.
This is the exact age in which people start forming their own opinions and views about the world, and very importantly they start creating an identity outside of their family.
In the last decades, we have seen this happening in the form of music taste, hobbies like sports, art or extracurriculars, fashion sense, and even habits – take “burn out” stoners as an example.
It’s not a reach to assume that most people want to be close to others who have similar interests - that is also a way in which an identity forms.
But what if we erase all that? What happens if none of the little things that form an individual matter anymore? Or better yet, what happens when it is more important not who you are but how you appear online?
The loss of third-place spaces is why I feel for the current thirteen-year-olds.
The nerds don’t hang out in libraries - the government closed them all -, and the popular groups don’t go to the mall - why shop in person when you can order online?
Maybe you got tired of hearing about it, or maybe you didn’t hear about it at all. I still think discussing it before going into deeper stuff is crucial. That is not to say that this is not important; it is. The loss of third-place spaces for preteens and teens was just the catalyst of the bigger picture.
In the fabric of societal change, the loss of third-place spaces stands as a poignant reflection of evolving cultural dynamics. These spaces, once vibrant hubs of community and self-expression for preteens and teens, have dwindled in the face of shifting social norms and technological advancements.
Traditionally, third-place spaces like community centers, arcades, or parks provided young people with a sense of belonging and connection outside of the home and school environments. Here, friendships were forged, ideas were exchanged, and identities were explored in a safe and supportive atmosphere.
However, as the digital age has ushered in new modes of communication and interaction, the availability of physical third-place spaces has diminished. The rise of social media platforms and online communities has redefined the way young people engage with one another, blurring the boundaries between virtual and physical spaces.
While the internet offers unprecedented opportunities for connection and self-expression, it also presents unique challenges for identity formation.
In the absence of traditional third-place spaces, young people are increasingly turning to online platforms to explore and define their identities.
Yet, the virtual realm comes with its own set of limitations and risks. The curated nature of social media profiles and the prevalence of online bullying can distort perceptions of self and others, leading to feelings of isolation and inadequacy.
Moreover, the loss of physical third-place spaces has profound implications for the development of social skills and emotional resilience among young people.
Without opportunities for face-to-face interaction and real-world experiences, adolescents may struggle to navigate the complexities of interpersonal relationships and self-expression.
By creating inclusive online environments that prioritise authenticity and empathy, we can help young people navigate the complexities of identity formation in an ever-changing world.
First thing first, let’s address shifting. Reality shifting, also known as inter-dimensional travel, was first introduced by Maxwell in 1863 and was further popularized by H.G. Wells’ “The Time Machine” in 1895. It may seem sci-fi and unrelated, but give me a moment to explain.
Niels Bohr’s concept of quantum jumps in early quantum physics spurred unexpected growth in the field.
Reality shifting, based on interdimensional travel and quantum jumping, involves moving beyond current reality for desired outcomes.
Interdimensional travel encompasses both practices, focusing on shifting consciousness to explore alternate dimensions. Quantum jumping manipulates reality to shift to desired versions of existence.
Physicists like Stephen Hawking, Albert Einstein, and Max Planck have contributed to these theories, with interdimensional travel involving movement between planes, reality shifting altering current reality, and quantum jumping transitioning between states of matter.
Today, some specialists (and by that I mean psychologists and psychiatrists) think that there is a tie between shifting and hypnosis therapy that lies in the ability of hypnosis to facilitate shifts in consciousness that can lead to therapeutic benefits.
By accessing the subconscious mind and bypassing critical faculties, hypnosis can help individuals make positive changes, overcome obstacles, and achieve desired outcomes. This makes hypnosis a valuable tool in psychotherapy for addressing a wide range of issues, including anxiety, phobias, habits, and trauma – all of which should be supervised by a specialist.
In short, is a theory that one can “move” to another dimension (and yes, it does tie in with the idea of multiverses) for an undetermined period using only the power of the mind.
I have to admit that this one is personal. It hit home, all right?
I was thirteen when I joined my first online chat room alongside numerous other thirteen-year-olds from various corners of the globe. The topic of discussion? The overly beloved world of Harry Potter.
My adoration for the magical universe was unwavering then, and it remains steadfast to this day, irrespective of its creator’s personal views – who I refuse to even name.
During this time, I was introduced, perhaps prematurely, to the concept of wizarding role-play – a notion that may not align with your initial assumptions. ...
So, it’s maybe safe to say that, the first time I learned about shifters, in the early weeks of the
lockdown, I thought, in my silly little mind, that it was just another way the fandoms are doing things right now.
I mean, I have been in fandoms for more than a decade – from One Direction, to Percy Jackon, to even Naruto for like four months when I was in high school; you name it and I have probably been in it at some point.
What I mean to say, is that I get fandom culture, both in the canon and fanon sense (fanon is a term to determine a fact that is not actually canon but is accepted as such by a wider audience).
Then the shifting came...
Listen, I am not here to discuss the possibility or impossibility of shifting. I’m not a scientist. I can’t prove or disprove any theories about it. What I can talk about is the experiences of young people who ended up in therapy (or in psych yards) because of it.
This problem has nothing to do with fandom culture and everything to do with young people being desperate enough to escape their own lives to put themselves and their minds in danger.
It’s a reality that some teenagers have ended up in a psychosis state as a result of shifting.
As we already established, for one individual to – supposedly – shift they must first enter a certain state of hypnosis. Take it from someone who did hypnosis therapy: it should be made with the help of a professional and not alone at night by preteens who wish to escape reality.
We have to ask ourselves if this is the world we want to create for the younger generation, a world in which they feel so deeply miserable that they put their health in danger just not to be in it.
Think about the personality tests that can put us into boxes. What are you? I am a Slytherin, ENFP, a daughter of Artemis, a king, my aura is marigold, and I am all the characters who ever had pink or purple hair. So, what are you? You know we can’t be friends if our results don’t align, right?
I always loved taking personality quizzes. When I was in middle school, an older friend and I used to collect glossy magazines just for those tests – and the posters.
I was always a Charlotte, never a Samantha, forever the Blair, not once the Serena, deemed to be Luna and not Ginny, and almost every time a Louis girl, but one time I was Harry’s. Oh, and did I forget to mention how I was Stella from Winx while all my friends hated her?
I do get the appeal, I really do, I’d be a hypocrite to not to admit I still like doing them. They are all fun and games, until one important point.
What I did not understand at thirteen that I understand now at twenty-three is the shiny little box these tests are putting us in. This is not even a new problem. Preteens and teenagers have been doing them for almost a century (most started being popularised in young people’s magazines around North America in the ‘40s).
These quizzes seem harmless at first glance, just a bit of fun to pass the time, right? But what they subtly reinforce is the idea that our identities can be neatly categorized into predetermined boxes.
Slytherin or Gryffindor, introvert or extrovert, leader or follower – we’re encouraged to see ourselves in terms of these rigid classifications.
It’s not just personality quizzes that do this.
From social media algorithms tailoring our feeds to match our interests, to online shopping platforms suggesting products based on our previous purchases, teenagers and preteens feel like they are constantly being sorted and categorised.
It’s as if the complexity of human identity can be reduced to a series of checkboxes and dropdown menus.
But what about the parts of these kids that don’t fit neatly into these boxes? What about the contradictions, the complexities, the messy bits that make them who they are?
When we buy into the idea that our identities can be neatly packaged and labeled, we risk losing sight of the rich tapestry of experiences and influences that shape us.
I’m not saying we should stop taking personality quizzes altogether. After all, there’s something undeniably satisfying about seeing ourselves reflected in the characters we admire or feel drawn to. Perhaps we should instead take them with a pinch of salt, recognising that they only capture a small sliver of who we are and teaching the younger generation that they are not that one thing or the other.
Aside from the daft Buzzfeed quizzes you’re probably imaging, more renowned personality tests like the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, with its sixteen distinct personality types, can only capture a fraction of the complexity of human personality.
Sure, it’s fascinating to discover that you’re an INFP or an ESTJ, but these labels can also be limiting. They suggest that our personalities are fixed and immutable when in reality, they’re constantly evolving and shifting in response to our experiences and environments.
What’s more, these tests often rely on self-reported data, meaning that the results are influenced by how one perceives themselves rather than how others see them.
So, while you might identify as an ENFJ, your friends and family might see you differently.
What about those moments when you surprise yourself by acting out of character? Where do those fit into the neatly constructed framework of your personality type?
The rise of online platforms has ushered in an era where the construction of identity isn’t just a personal journey but a public spectacle. With meticulously crafted TikTok personas, young people find themselves performing not just for friends but for an invisible audience of thousands, if not millions.
When you’re trying to “beat the algorithm,” the pressure to conform, to fit neatly into predetermined “aesthetics” and “cores” is growing each day.
For teenagers grappling with questions of race, gender, and sexuality, the stakes are even higher. When “trends” reduce complex, nuanced identities to a series of checkboxes, it only serves to further marginalise those who don’t fit neatly into existing categories.
While researching this topic I entered different chat rooms and Discord servers to better understand what these communities are really about, and it was not what I expected.
“RCTA is not trans-racial, we are more educated than them,” is one of the things a girl told me on one of these servers, after asking what RCTA is.
The answer was confusing and the lines between ethics and social media were blurry. So I will tell you what exactly RCTA and ECTA are.
RCTA stands for “race change to another” and ECTA stands for “ethnicity change to another.”
As I am to understand, these are two subgroups that form a community of young people who do not feel any ties to their own cultural, racial, ethnic, and national identity.
Most of them, also don’t feel like they have a place in their own family, making it even harder for them to understand and accept their origins.
If it was a few months ago, before going deeper into the problem, I would simply state that this is typical “teenage angst”, but now I know it’s not, now I know better.
The short version of this phenomenon is that young people (between twelve and twenty-one, most of the time) feel a deep need to try to change their race and/or ethnicity to either feel seen, be part of a community, feel loved, be different, or as a form of performative anti-colonialism.
As I went deeper into the intricacies of these online communities, it became evident that the desire to change one’s race or ethnicity wasn’t merely a passing phase or a rebellious act – although it may be for some – against societal norms.
It was a complex interplay of various factors, deeply rooted in the individual’s struggle to find belonging and acceptance in a world that often seems alienating and indifferent.
However, beneath the surface of this seemingly liberating quest for self-discovery lurked darker undertones. The mere notion of changing one’s race or ethnicity, not only virtually, but also in real life reflected a profound disillusionment with the constructs of identity and belonging.
With deep-seated alienation, disconnect from cultural heritage, and marginalisation within communities, came the pursuit of authenticity.
Instead, these teenagers found themselves trapped in a cycle of performative identity politics, where the boundaries between genuine self-expression and superficial conformity blurred beyond recognition.
What began as a quest for belonging morphed into a desperate bid for validation, as each like and follow became a measure of self-worth in an increasingly competitive digital landscape.
As I continued my research, I couldn’t help but wonder: what does it say about our society when young people feel compelled to resort to such extreme measures to find acceptance?
And, more importantly, how can we create a world where every individual feels valued and embraced for who they truly are, rather than who they feel pressured to be?
While I do feel for them, there came further issues and lines were crossed.
These communities fostered racist views towards people of colour, with the prevalence of slurs and discussions about the facial features that they see as “bad”, “disgusting” and even “slave-like” (unfortunately the last one was neither bait nor trolling).
Add that to a whole group of people who are pro-using skin-bleaching products – yes, you read that right.
They are also using subliminales because they think that, listening to them, may help to change their features. Similar to shifting, subliminales are a form of media you listen to while asleep. They refer to stimuli or messages that are presented below the threshold of conscious awareness.
These stimuli can be auditory, visual, or even sensory, and they are typically used to influence a person’s thoughts, emotions, or behavior without their conscious awareness.
Subliminal messages are often employed in advertising, self-help programs, and psychological experiments, although their effectiveness and ethical implications remain subjects of debate.
If you ask a professional, they might just tell you that is a softer form of hypnosis. This is where the biggest problem arises; when said subliminals are made by other teenagers.
Truthfully, one of the things that I read on these servers that actually made me want to cry for these children, was the story of a girl that wanted so badly to be Moroccan because she never felt connected to her French roots or her family all while a Moroccan family she knew made her feel loved.
But the most embarrassing one? A high-schooler who said that they felt, from a very young age, that they were Romanian because they liked stealing stuff from shops – once again, it was not a troll.
As a Romanian myself, it made me realise what kind of stereotypes they were following regarding cultures.
It would be easy to explain the lockdown as its cause, but that would be too simplistic.
The emergence of phenomena like third-place spaces dwindling, reality shifting, race and ethnicity changes, and the proliferation of online quizzes amid a global pandemic and subsequent lockdowns begs a closer examination of the underlying causes.
While these trends may seem just part of smaller communities, they share a common thread: the profound impact of societal shifts and technological advancements on the younger generation’s sense of identity and belonging.
The lockdowns enforced during the pandemic disrupted traditional avenues for social interaction and self-expression, exacerbating the already existing challenges faced by today’s teenagers.
With physical third-place spaces off-limits, young people turned to the digital world for connection and validation.
Social media platforms, once hailed as a gateway to limitless possibilities, became both a lifeline and a minefield, offering unprecedented opportunities for self-expression while also amplifying feelings of isolation and inadequacy.
What began as a harmless form of escapism within fandom communities has turned into something darker, with some individuals risking their mental well-being in pursuit of alternate realities.
At the heart of these trends lies a profound sense of alienation and disenchantment with the world as it is. For many young people, the quest for identity and belonging has become synonymous with performance and validation.
Today, it’s not so clear what a teenager is or should be – society has allowed the younger generation to feel hated by the world, to feel excluded, and revoked their opportunity to form an identity.
While some of these examples may feel extreme, the most popular career aspirations are no longer vets and musicians but YouTubers and gamers - taking the creativity away and leaving jobs crafted purely around fake personas as forms of extremely inauthentic entertainment.
According to surveys by Savanta in collaboration with Prospect Magazine, half of young Brits want to enter the creator industry. In fact, they even self-reported good knowledge of how different algorithms work across YouTube, TikTok and Instagram.
As a society, we must confront the underlying issues driving these trends, from the erosion of community spaces to the toxic influence of social media algorithms.
We must prioritise the mental health and well being of our youth, providing them with the support and resources they need to navigate the complexities of identity formation in the 21st century.
It’s time to move beyond the constraints of labels and categories, embracing the messy, beautiful complexity of human identity in all its forms. Only then can we create a world where every teenager can confidently feel seen, loved, and understood.
Maybe there isn’t an exact formula for doing something better for them. Maybe all that we can do is allow them to be children for a bit longer, to not judge, and to offer them the space – both mentally and physically – to be more than mere performers for our own entertainment.
Edited by Emily Duff