By Krystal Sieben 
’90s nostalgia is all the rage. I loved being a teenager in the ’90s—I mean, as a much as a teenager can love anything. The brown lipstick, zero cell phones in sight, VHS prom videos, the TV shows! I’ll never stop being grateful that era was my youth. It was simple, it was fun, it was good. Unforgettable, really.
But now I’m 45. A mom. According to my kids, I’m “old,” “not cool,” and my favorite, “SO embarrassing.” My oldest child is 12 and autistic, and while I love getting swept up in all the ’90s nostalgia, I’ve started to see my teen years through a new lens.
And I’m glad my kids are growing up now.
Where would a child like my son have fit in the ’90s? Definitely not in my mainstream classes or sitting with us in the cafeteria. Not on a sports team or at prom. Not at my school, anyway.
But today, he DOES have a place.
Since kindergarten, he’s been beautifully woven into the fabric of our community. He walks the halls like all the other kids. He has friends and a speaking part in the choir concert (don’t even get me started on the boys giving him fist bumps after he spoke!). At school, he’s part of the everyday—not set apart from it. Yes, this generation is glued to devices and says weird things like “rizz” and plays too much Minecraft. But they are kind. Kinder than the ’90s kids were. Kinder than I was.
When I was in high school, my math partner once whispered to me that he was gay. No one was “out” at our school—like no one. And despite being the most immature girl in our grade, I never told a soul. Why? Because I think I knew what it would have meant for him.
I had my first boyfriend in 9th grade. He was a junior; he was cute, funny, and not white. I never thought anything of it at the time. Sure, I remember some of his popular jock friends making some crude comments (that today would have them officially cancelled, for good reason), and I remember him joking once about the teachers never being able to pronounce his name. But the fact that we were an interracial couple for two years—I honestly never thought about it. Now that I’m a mom, I can’t help but wonder if he did, though. I wish I had asked more questions or done more to make his experience better. Our school was probably 95 percent white, maybe more—and I just had the luxury not to notice.
I loved my ’90s experience. I still do. But I also recognize my lens wasn’t everyone’s lens. Nostalgia is fun and awesome and all the things—but so is progress. And of course, we can all look back and say it was better without cell phones and social media, but as a mom, I’m beyond grateful to raise kids in a time where they have the space to be all of who they are.
by Bailey Beasley 
by Jehava Brown 
by Her View From Home 
