Here’s a stark reality check for anyone under 30: you will get old, and it happens faster than you think. Zadie Smith, the acclaimed author behind White Teeth and the newly released essay collection Dead and Alive, isn’t mincing words. At 50, she’s reflecting on a life that feels like it’s slipped through her fingers in the blink of an eye. But here’s where it gets controversial: Smith argues that our obsession with generational divides—millennials vs. Gen X, boomers vs. everyone else—is not only unproductive but deeply misguided. 'If you’re young, you’re absolutely going to become old,' she points out. 'So why wage war against a future you’re inevitably stepping into?'
Smith’s perspective is shaped by her unique upbringing. Born to a Jamaican mother 30 years younger than her white English father, she describes herself as 'the product of a completely inappropriate relationship.' Her mother, just 20 years her senior, came from a world starkly different from her father’s, who reminisced about watching Casablanca in theaters and seeing Ella Fitzgerald perform live. This generational and cultural clash fueled Smith’s lifelong fascination with time and identity. 'I’m obsessed with time,' she admits, 'perhaps because I’ve always been acutely aware of its passage.'
But Smith’s take on generational conflict is where things get heated. She acknowledges the anger young people feel today—skyrocketing housing costs, climate catastrophe, and dwindling opportunities—but challenges the idea that older generations are solely to blame. 'When I was young, I didn’t see my parents’ generation as stealing my future,' she says. 'Their flaws were absurd, maybe, but not existential.' Today, she argues, the stakes are higher, and the discourse is angrier. But is vilifying the older generation the answer? Smith thinks not. 'A certain amount of care around the issue of age should be practiced on both sides,' she urges, calling it 'one of those deep delusions you don’t realize you’re in until it’s too late.'
Smith’s reflections on feminism are equally thought-provoking. Raised in what she calls a 'judgmental school of feminism,' she admits to being rigid in her views—like her refusal to use the title 'Mrs.' 'Ms.' is practically tattooed on her brain, she jokes. But she’s also critical of the neoliberal notion that progress is linear. 'Each group has to figure it out for themselves,' she says. 'Your job, if you’ve already been through it, is to offer support, not enforce your way.'
And then there’s aging—a topic Smith confronts with raw honesty. At 50, she’s grappling with macular degeneration, a reminder of her own mortality. 'There’s that shock of vulnerability,' she admits. 'You start to wonder: what kind of sick person will you be? The one who talks about it endlessly, or the one who soldiers on in silence?' She finds solace in Salman Rushdie’s words: 'Our lives teach us who we are.'
But here’s the question that lingers: Is Smith’s call for generational empathy a naive plea for peace, or a necessary antidote to today’s divisive rhetoric? And as we navigate the complexities of aging, feminism, and time itself, how much should we lean on the past, and how much should we forge our own path? Let’s hear your thoughts in the comments—agree, disagree, or somewhere in between, this conversation is far from over.
