The Invisibility of Today’s Teens in the Coming-of-Age Story
Published January 14, 2022
Ifunanya Okoroma
On a breezy Saturday afternoon, I engage some friends in casual conversation. We’re usually busy with school, so we use this time to catch up on topics important to us. One such topic is the TV shows and movies we’ve watched recently, some for the first time, some not. One thing in particular strikes us in terms of relatability — or more accurately, the lack thereof — mainstream coming-of-age stories. We share many criticisms, primarily about the lack of accuracy in telling coming-of-age stories in media.
Granted, we understand that shows and movies wouldn’t garner their acclaim from painting a more realistic picture of it or casting actual teenagers to play these roles. But still, we agree that teenagedom, to us, is not what we see onscreen.
One of my friends is particularly adamant about their love of every facet of the show Euphoria, except one thing — how unrealistic the character portrayal is. This show has received incredible acclaim for telling authentic stories that teens can relate to, but it hasn’t put actual teenagers as the faces in front of these stories.
If you think about it, what typical high schooler has the time, energy, and money to dress in the characters’ exuberant outfits every day? Take Jules’ makeup — how is she able to do those elaborate looks every day, bike to school, and then have absolutely none of it smear off? How do none of the students have any homework? What’s up with that?
Hollywood’s obsession with casting post-pubescent adults to play high school students can lead teens down a really self-conscious path when they see these supposed adolescents on-screen. With acne-free faces and certain physical builds, it puts a lot of pressure on children to wonder, “Why don’t I look like that?”
17-year-old Jules Vaughn from Euphoria, played by actress Hunter Schafer, who was 20 years old when she started the role.
Of course, I’m lamenting the obvious into the void of media production, but doesn’t it get tiring as a teen seeing teenaged scenarios that don’t really reflect teenhood?
Now, this isn’t to completely dismiss the more realistic highs and lows of mainstream teenage media. But there are other stories to be told. Stories about the sickness to your stomach and feelings of unfettered anxiety over your next AP Chemistry test. Stories of students who consistently have to prioritize work over enjoying their high school years, which we are told is the pinnacle of teenage experience, either in order to provide immediate financial support to their families or to prioritize their studies with hopes that a college degree will set them on track for a stable career path. Sometimes it’s both, placing an unbelievably immense amount of pressure on students to succeed in the work they are doing while still maintaining the mental stability to keep going.
With myself, my friends, and the students I took classes with, many of our grandest high school experiences included incessant studying and worrying over the proper grades and extracurricular activities needed to gain admission into our dream colleges. The collective and never-ending burnout was a feeling we could all bond over. It was the pinnacle of our teenage years.
I’m willing to bet that my experience was a lot more universal than we care to admit or see, especially at UCSD, where we attend one of the best public universities in the nation. A society such as this makes reaching out for help inaccessible, consistently pushing the narrative that you need to work through your emotional and physical pain to obtain true success.
Sometimes this does produce success. But often it doesn’t. This mentality can send you into a depression, feelings of hopelessness amplified. Combined with the perils of pubescent transitions, teenagehood can be way less spontaneous than the mainstream media’s stories would make it seem. As someone who spent their entire senior year virtually, looking at the glamorization of senior year in media is something I, along with my classmates, will never personally relate to. Prom, senior year football games, and a sense of real closure on that chapter in life will forever be missing.
But the lack of spontaneity doesn’t make these moments less meaningful.
Take college application season, for example. It’s a topic whose surface is barely scratched in coming-of-age media centered around high school seniors. In reality, it’s a far more invasive and painful experience than movies and television let on. At the peak of the season, it’s the first thing you think about when you wake up and the last before you go to sleep. There’s never-ending stress to write the best essays, get letters of recommendation, keep grades up, and maintain extracurricular participation, all at the same time.
One piece of media I love that captures the true essence of this time is director Carolyn Knapp’s short film Hives. This 10-minute story follows Vivian, a high-achieving high school senior whose stress from applying to top 20 colleges, on top of dealing with friends and family, causes her to anxiously break out into hives, hence the name of the film.
Hives, 2019. Vivian and her friends reminiscing over their last year of high school, sharing their future plans.
What Vivian struggles with is a response from her body due to all the anxiety she’s feeling. I definitely felt that connection to her as one who struggles with trichotillomania, or the compulsive pulling-out of hair in times of stress. (For me, it’s triggered more often than not when completing difficult assignments. Pretty much every time I complete a draining test, expect me to have little to no eyebrow hair afterward.)
Granted, it could be very fun to live vicariously through the teenagers on our screens and absorb their high school experiences in ways we will never get to. But diving into the realism of the effects that late-stage capitalism has on high schoolers could also be a fresh approach to coming-of-age storytelling, one that more teenagers might appreciate as they see themselves on the screen, perhaps for the first time.