At a recent holiday gathering, I was reminiscing with friends about our sometimes painful, sometimes amusing experiences of growing up across cultural boundaries. Thinking about our kids’ lives, I voiced something that had been troubling me: We talk a lot to our children about self-care and drawing boundaries. But we all had experiences in our teens and 20s – some hurtful or painful – that shaped who we became, the partners we chose, and the lives we’ve built. In trying to give our kids an upbringing that reflects our adult perspectives, are we keeping them from experiencing the very things that made us who we are today?
As a parent and a researcher who works in schools, I have watched with unease the growing emphasis on teaching young people to avoid broadly defined categories of “harms” like microaggressions and triggers. My concern stems from my own cross-cultural journey and current research into identity formation in young adulthood. Living in Germany as a high school exchange student, I constantly faced the question “what are you?” since being non-white made it obvious that I couldn’t be American. Debating my religion teacher about whether Hinduism was “less legitimate” than monotheistic religions pushed me to examine and articulate my own beliefs. While uncomfortable, these experiences shored up my sense of self.
In my current research interviewing adults from culturally complex backgrounds, I hear similar stories of how navigating challenges helped them develop resilience and empathy. A queer Chinese man raised in New York and San Jose spoke of the division and intolerance among Asian immigrants from Chinese, Japanese and Korean backgrounds that shaped his adolescent search for belonging. An Iranian Zoroastrian doctor who lived in Spain before coming to the U.S. recalled how being treated like the “strange one” in her youth taught her to focus on what she had in common with others, a mindset she believes has allowed her to integrate traditional indigenous practices into her work.
Today’s young people face a different landscape. A study by the Berkeley Institute for Otherness and Belonging found that while the U.S. has become more diverse overall, 81% of regions with more than 200,000 residents were more racially segregated in 2019 than in 1990. Moreover, within metropolitan areas, different racial groups remain clustered in segregated neighborhoods.
The rise in income inequality and the adoption of land-use policies such as density zoning since the 1980s means the US has also become more segregated along other dimensions. College-educated people are increasingly living in communities with other college-educated people. Ideological isolation has also increased substantially. A 2021 study by the Institute for Quantitative Social Science at Harvard found that over 95% of Americans live in areas segregated by partisanship, an increase of nearly 30% between 2008 and 2018.
With an increase in charter school and public school choice policies, most American students attend increasingly segregated schools. Between 1991 and 2020, geographical segregation of students eligible for free lunch programs increased by 47% in large school districts. In 2020, one in six public school students attended a school where over 90% of their peers had the same racial and fairly similar socio-economic background, according to the U.S. government Accountability Office. This means increasing numbers of young people have little exposure to those with different perspectives.
We’ve also seen more than two decades of hyperactive parenting trends that experts like Julie Lythcott-Haims, author of How to Raise an Adult, worry are creating a generation unprepared to deal with basic life challenges. Parents intervene in playground conflicts, elevate childhood squabbles into accusations of bullying, even complain to college professors about their children’s grades.
The digital world compounds these problems. Social media algorithms create perfectly tailored content streams that are a stark contrast to earlier generations of young people arguing about politics and religion with real live friends and family. These technologies shape not just what information our kids see, but how they learn (or not) to handle cognitive dissonance, disagreement and difference. Eli Pariser, author of the book Filter Bubbles, notes that “personalization filters serve a kind of invisible autopropaganda, indoctrinating us with our own ideas, amplifying our desire for things that are familiar.” When young people can easily curate their online experiences to avoid all friction, they miss opportunities to develop crucial social and emotional skills.
We are seeing an uptick in anxiety, depression, and other mental health challenges among young people. A study out of Georgetown University’s Center for children and Families found a 27% increase in anxiety and a 24% increase in depression between 2016 and 2019. Since the pandemic, even greater increases are being reported, and researchers attribute at least part of this to young people being denied opportunities to grapple with complex situations.
Recently, I watched a friend’s daughter end a friendship because her peer supported a different political candidate. I thought about the hundreds of pages of letters I exchanged with my husband during our first year of dating in our early 20s. His closest friends believed I was going to hell for not being Christian; members of my extended family worried about me marrying a white man whose parents were divorced. Working through these differences required difficult conversations, but ultimately helped us find our common ground and forge a stronger relationship.
This isn’t about abandoning the principles of social justice or self-care. But there is a crucial difference between an adult who sets boundaries after years of navigating different perspectives, and a young person who never experiences that navigation at all. The former comes from a place of growth and understanding; the latter from a place of avoidance that stunts development.
The path forward requires a delicate balance. Parents and educators should create structured opportunities for young people to engage across differences. I’ve seen this work in practice. At one high school where I did research, students participate in “dialogue across difference” workshops where they learn to discuss controversial topics while practicing active listening skills. At another school I worked with an educator who intentionally partners together students who do not get along but have complementary strengths; she coaches them in how to have a constructive experience and observes how this leads to mutual respect and appreciation. Even simple practices like teaching children to resolve playground conflicts with adult guidance rather than intervention, can build these crucial skills.
As we guide the next generation, we must remember that our role isn’t to shield them from all discomfort, but to help them develop the tools to navigate it productively. We can create safe spaces for processing and reflection while still encouraging brave spaces for growth through engagement. Only then will our children develop the robust, secure sense of self that will serve them throughout their lives.