How Gen Z’s fearless ease rubs off on Gen X

I always thought confidence meant speaking in measured tones. You pause, weigh the effect and ensure that you don’t trip over your own words. Then I encountered Gen Z.

My best friend happens to be one of them, a guy I met at the gym along with the rest of my accidental new gang. It was not a promising beginning. They felt that I had an attitude, while I found them loud, brazen and, frankly, intolerable. They still are. But somewhere between shared workouts and post-gym chais they grew on me.

It’s hard not to be a little charmed. They float through life without the heavy baggage that we Xennials carry. Our parents taught us to think about the consequences of our actions. I overthink before speaking; they barely think. While I make mental risk assessments, they just… say it. It’s maddening, yet refreshing.

I get to hear all their dating escapades and more because I'm not judgemental and never give unsolicited advice. Their expectations of love and marriage are so sky-high I want to laugh. I do snigger, quietly. When they actually ask for my judgment about people, I give it, and they’re amazed at how sharp my observations are. That’s when I get a little smug. What did they think? Been there, done that. Every time I want to tell them they’re being stupid, I remember I was just as clueless at their age.

The best part? They don’t mind the age gap. It makes me feel like I’m fun.

Work only sharpens the contrast. They walk in looking like they’ve already signed a fashion collaboration — effortlessly sharp, maddeningly cute. When they open their mouths, the overconfidence brims like a shaken soda can. My first instinct is to hand them a dose of reality. Then I remember how my mother’s generation found me unbearable. I was a nightmare teen and an early-adult hurricane. Every eye roll I direct at these kids is basically my mum haunting me with a self-satisfied “see how it feels?”

I’d love to say I blend right in with my new crew. I don’t. Most of the time I feel like an undercover aunt. Sometimes I dodge the invite altogether. But hanging on their fringes has forced me to relax. I’ve even let them drag me into their world: making reels and Insta stories, playing with social media, discovering the tiny tricks that make them feel good about themselves. Somewhere along the way I’ve become a little delusional too, and it’s surprisingly fun.

Gen Z’s confidence isn’t really the loud, chest-thumping kind. It’s a quiet certainty, the sense that they belong in any room they enter. They move without waiting for permission and without worrying what strangers might think. Watching them has shown me what confidence really looks like.

Their fearlessness didn’t pass on to me like a gift. It stirred a memory of the boldness I once had and reminded me that it doesn’t have to stay buried under decades of caution. Confidence isn't necessarily born out of perfection; it stems from your refusal to waste energy on worrying about who is judging you.

Hanging out with Gen Z hasn’t turned me into one of them. It has nudged me towards being braver, even at the risk of appearing a little ridiculous. I feel lighter and happier. I’ll take that kind of confidence any day.