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8 things boomers were told not to talk about—but younger generations now prioritize

The conversations our parents avoided are now the ones shaping how we connect, grow, and live with greater honesty.

Lifestyle

The conversations our parents avoided are now the ones shaping how we connect, grow, and live with greater honesty.

“Don’t talk about money, politics, or religion at the table.”

If you grew up hearing some version of that, you’re not alone.

Many boomers were raised to keep anything “sensitive” politely tucked away—especially topics that might spark conflict, expose vulnerability, or reveal difference.

Younger generations have flipped that script.

We’re dragging the once-taboo into daylight, not because we love arguing, but because hiding these parts of life has real costs: stress, shame, inequity, and missed chances to grow.

Here are eight topics older generations were discouraged from discussing that many of us now bring forward—loudly, imperfectly, and (ideally) with compassion.

1. Money

Talking about salary used to be seen as tacky at best and fireable at worst.

Yet secrecy helps no one except systems that thrive on information imbalance.

The new wave? Pay transparency threads, cost-of-living breakdowns on TikTok, and friends comparing 401(k) matches over coffee.

When I started freelancing in California’s music-blog days, I lowballed myself for years because I had zero intel on what other writers earned.

One honest chat with another freelancer changed everything; I raised my rates 40% and no one blinked.

That’s the power of data.

Financial health isn’t just about making more—it’s about aligning spending with values.

As personal finance author Suze Orman likes to point out, how you spend is a statement of what matters to you.

Want more freedom?

Track where your cash actually goes.

Ask your friends what they pay for rent.

Share what you negotiated at work.

Silence doesn’t protect dignity; it protects inequity.

2. Mental health

“Keep it to yourself.”

That was the implied rule for anxiety, depression, burnout, grief.

You powered through.

You didn’t go to therapy unless something was “seriously wrong.”

Now mental health check-ins are as normal in some circles as asking about the weather—and for good reason.

Untreated stress compounds.

Loneliness eats at our bodies.

Former U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy has written that our need for human connection is as fundamental as food or water.

When I finally tried therapy after frying my nervous system during a too-many-clients season, the first shock was relief: naming what I felt didn’t make me weak—it gave me options.

You don’t need to broadcast your diagnosis to the world, but talking openly about therapy, meds, boundaries, or burnout normalizes care.

Ask a friend, “How’s your headspace lately?” and actually wait for the answer.

That tiny invitation can be life-preserving.

3. Feelings

Related to mental health, but narrower: emotional vocabulary.

Many boomers were taught emotional stoicism—especially men.

Crying? Private.

Anger? Either explode or swallow it.

Joy? Don’t get carried away.

Younger generations are building emotional literacy: naming, regulating, sharing.

If you can’t identify what you feel, you can’t ask for what you need.

Research in affect labeling (putting words to feelings) shows it reduces emotional intensity and improves decision quality.

And yes, feelings influence decisions—spending, eating, dating, voting.

Leadership researcher Brené Brown famously says, “Vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our greatest measure of courage.”

Letting someone know you’re overwhelmed, jealous, or proud builds trust.

Try this simple move: instead of “I’m fine,” pick from a broader palette—frustrated, hopeful, drained, lit up, conflicted.

Short words, big clarity.

4. Identity and inclusion

Race. Gender. Sexual orientation. Pronouns. Neurodiversity.

Many boomers were told these topics were “private” or “divisive.”

The result?

People hid who they were to stay safe in school, work, or family.

Younger generations push the opposite: visibility matters.

Labels aren’t cages; they’re coordinates that help others meet you where you are.

As noted by diversity scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw in her work on intersectionality, identities overlap—and systems treat those overlaps differently.

If we don’t talk about that, inequities stay invisible.

Practical takeaway: ask how someone identifies; don’t assume.

Use the pronouns they give you.

If you mess up, correct yourself and move on.

Inclusion isn’t theory—it’s micro-habits repeated until they feel normal.

5. Work boundaries

Work was sacred.

You showed up, did what the boss asked, and stayed quiet about overwhelm.

Asking for flexibility could mark you as uncommitted.

Younger workers openly compare PTO policies, mental health days, and 4-day workweek experiments.

They ask, “What’s sustainable?”

I learned the hard way.

During one stretch juggling a day job plus side writing, I answered emails at midnight and edited drafts at sunrise.

My work looked strong; my body didn’t.

After hitting a wall, I told clients I no longer respond after 6 p.m. unless we’ve pre-agreed it’s urgent.

Not one client left.

Many respected the clarity.

Burnout isn’t a badge; it’s a warning light.

If you’ve ever wondered whether you’re “allowed” to ask for time off, ask anyway.

Boundaries spoken early are kinder than resentment expressed late.

6. Politics and social impact

The old rule: never bring up politics in polite company.

But when policy decisions shape health care, rights, climate, and food systems, silence is its own political act.

Younger generations connect votes, values, and everyday choices—what we buy, where we bank, how we travel.

Food is political too: subsidies, labor, land, water.

If you’ve shifted toward plant-forward eating for climate reasons, that’s a political choice whether you name it or not.

The key is learning to discuss policy without dehumanizing people.

Try curiosity questions: “What worries you most about this bill?” or “How are you thinking about the climate piece?”

Shared stakes open doors that party labels slam shut.

You don’t have to debate every headline, but refusing to talk about policy because it’s “messy” leaves power unchallenged.

7. Bodies, sex, and reproductive health

From periods to prostate checks, from menopause to consent—many of these topics were cloaked in euphemism or silence.

Younger generations swap app recommendations for cycle tracking, discuss birth control side effects in group chats, and talk openly about consent expectations before a first date.

Good.

Shame thrives in silence; health care suffers when patients withhold essential info out of embarrassment.

As sexual health educator Emily Nagoski notes in her work on desire, context matters—and open communication improves both safety and pleasure.

Normalize the basic questions: “What protection are we using?” “What’s your STI testing schedule?” “How does your body feel about this?”

Bodies change; desire fluctuates; hormones swing.

Talking helps us adapt instead of panic.

8. Food choices and ethical living

This one’s close to home for VegOut readers.

Decades ago, declining Grandma’s roast because you were “vegetarian” could trigger a full-scale family inquiry.

Food preferences were seen as manners—not values.

Now we link what’s on the plate to climate impact, animal welfare, personal health, culture, and budget.

I remember the first time I told a touring band I was traveling with that I wanted to hit a vegan spot after soundcheck.

I braced for jokes.

Instead, two bandmates said they’d been trying to cut dairy; we ended up swapping oat-milk brands.

Conversation unlocked support I didn’t know I had.

I’ve mentioned this before but aligning food with values is one of the most friction-tested places personal change shows up.

It happens three times a day.

If you’re experimenting—Meatless Mondays, plant-based before dinner, local produce challenges—talk about it.

Share what’s working.

Ask others what helps them stick with change.

As eating psychologist Traci Mann has noted in her research, environments beat willpower; when the default food environment supports your goals, behavior follows.

So ask for the plant-based option.

Suggest the vegan restaurant.

Offer to bring a dish.

Silence gets you whatever’s served; conversation gets you choice.

Bringing it all together

Taboos don’t evaporate; we outgrow them by replacing secrecy with skill.

The goal isn’t to argue more—it’s to live with more alignment, better health, and more honest relationships.

Pick one area above that feels charged for you.

Start tiny.

Ask one friend about salary ranges.

Schedule a therapy consult.

Practice naming a feeling beyond “fine.”

Add pronouns to your email signature.

Request a no-meeting day.

Raise a policy question at dinner—but lead with curiosity.

Bring a vegan side dish and watch who lights up.

The more we practice open conversation around once-off-limits topics, the less power shame holds and the more agency we all gain.

Which topic are you ready to bring to the table? Let me know—I’d love to hear how the conversation goes.

 

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Jordan Cooper

Jordan Cooper is a pop-culture writer and vegan-snack reviewer with roots in music blogging. Known for approachable, insightful prose, Jordan connects modern trends—from K-pop choreography to kombucha fermentation—with thoughtful food commentary. In his downtime, he enjoys photography, experimenting with fermentation recipes, and discovering new indie music playlists.

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