Generation Z was supposed to be a vanguard of progressive politics – more queer, ethnically diverse and environmentally conscious than previous generations. Spurred on by climate protests, racial equality campaigns and feminist movements, we were sold the vision that Gen Z could usher in a more progressive and equitable future.
So, how is it that Donald Trump was elected to a second term despite this cohort now having reached voting age? And how did he secure a larger share of voters under 30 than any Republican presidential candidate since 2008?
The answer may lie in Gen Z’s “Lost Boys”, as they’ve been dubbed by some in the media. Not unlike Peter Pan’s disciples, these young men are failing to mature and find purpose in today’s rapidly changing social and economic landscape. They feel overlooked and shortchanged by left-wing politics and current economic outcomes.
In Trump, they see an outlet for their grievances – a figure who promises to restore the old order and give them the recognition they believe they deserve.
Many young people see no future
Despite the narrative that Gen Z is more progressive than previous cohorts, recent voting data tell a different story when it comes to young men. While the political leanings of Gen Z women have stayed steadily left of centre, Trump’s popularity among young men surged by 15 percentage points from 2020.
To understand why so many young men are drawn to Trump’s brand of populism, it’s crucial to look at the broader social context in which they are coming of age. The “Lost Boys” in the United States are disproportionately working-class and struggling with unemployment, underemployment, addiction and mental health crises.
https://theconversation.com/the-lost-boys-of-gen-z-how-trump-won-the-hearts-of-alienated-young-men-243358
迷失Z世代：特朗普如何獲得被社會孤立嘅年輕男性支持
皇上叩見黑社會
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The statistics are alarming. With one in five men under 25 unemployed (and many not actively seeking work), they seem hesitant to adapt to a new economy that no longer offers them the opportunities it once did.
Against this backdrop, young men seek out explanations for their struggles in ways that affirm their sense of injustice. These explanations are often found in the “manosphere” – a loose confederacy of social media platforms and influencers flooded with discussions about how “woke” politics, feminism and the rise of progressive values are undermining traditional masculinity.
In these corners of the internet, young men are told their personal setbacks are not the result of a weakening worldwide economy or personal failings, but rather the consequence of a society that has become too “soft”. They hear that the push for gender equality has made traditional masculinity a thing of the past – that men are being ignored, emasculated and left behind.
The “manosphere” is a space where their grievances are validated and where they are encouraged to embrace hypermasculine ideals as a way to regain control.
Searching for validation
Enter Trump.
Flitting between manosphere influencers such as Joe Rogan and Adin Ross, Trump spent hours on podcasts and streams in the lead-up to November 5. The result was so effective that podcasters were specifically shouted out in the victory declaration speech following the election. Since Trump entered politics, he has 107 podcast credits to his name, compared with Kamala Harris’ 76.
Notably, Harris’ own interview with Rogan fell through after the podcaster refused to accept her conditions, which included travelling to meet her.
In these online spaces, Trump was humorous and humanised. And for Gen Z men who consume more news through social media than traditional outlets, he was highly accessible. Suddenly, he wasn’t just a presidential candidate, but a certified “bro” willing to openly discuss cocaine on a podcast.
Trump successfully tapped into the frustrations of these “Lost Boys”. His policies – from mass deportations to curbing diversity initiatives – are framed as solutions to the challenges these men believe they face: competition for jobs and opportunities, the erosion of masculine ideals, and the loss of a once-dominant social order.
Yet as Trump waltzes to the Republican National Convention stage with James Brown’s It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World playing in the background, it becomes apparent his appeal was never just about policies; it’s about validation. His slogan of “Make America Great Again” resonates with young men who long for an idealised past in which men’s roles were more clearly defined and opportunities more plentiful.
Trump tells these men their frustrations are valid – and they deserve to take back what they believe has been unfairly taken from them.
Against this backdrop, young men seek out explanations for their struggles in ways that affirm their sense of injustice. These explanations are often found in the “manosphere” – a loose confederacy of social media platforms and influencers flooded with discussions about how “woke” politics, feminism and the rise of progressive values are undermining traditional masculinity.
In these corners of the internet, young men are told their personal setbacks are not the result of a weakening worldwide economy or personal failings, but rather the consequence of a society that has become too “soft”. They hear that the push for gender equality has made traditional masculinity a thing of the past – that men are being ignored, emasculated and left behind.
The “manosphere” is a space where their grievances are validated and where they are encouraged to embrace hypermasculine ideals as a way to regain control.
Searching for validation
Enter Trump.
Flitting between manosphere influencers such as Joe Rogan and Adin Ross, Trump spent hours on podcasts and streams in the lead-up to November 5. The result was so effective that podcasters were specifically shouted out in the victory declaration speech following the election. Since Trump entered politics, he has 107 podcast credits to his name, compared with Kamala Harris’ 76.
Notably, Harris’ own interview with Rogan fell through after the podcaster refused to accept her conditions, which included travelling to meet her.
In these online spaces, Trump was humorous and humanised. And for Gen Z men who consume more news through social media than traditional outlets, he was highly accessible. Suddenly, he wasn’t just a presidential candidate, but a certified “bro” willing to openly discuss cocaine on a podcast.
Trump successfully tapped into the frustrations of these “Lost Boys”. His policies – from mass deportations to curbing diversity initiatives – are framed as solutions to the challenges these men believe they face: competition for jobs and opportunities, the erosion of masculine ideals, and the loss of a once-dominant social order.
Yet as Trump waltzes to the Republican National Convention stage with James Brown’s It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World playing in the background, it becomes apparent his appeal was never just about policies; it’s about validation. His slogan of “Make America Great Again” resonates with young men who long for an idealised past in which men’s roles were more clearly defined and opportunities more plentiful.
Trump tells these men their frustrations are valid – and they deserve to take back what they believe has been unfairly taken from them.
Where to from here?
If the future belongs to Gen Z, it’s clear this particular subset of young men is not ready to follow the same path as their progressive peers. For many “Lost Boys”, Trump is more than just a political figure – he is a symbol of empowerment in a world that increasingly leaves them behind.
As the political and cultural landscape continues to evolve, understanding this phenomenon isn’t just a matter of curiosity, but a key to addressing the needs of a generation still trying to find its place in a confusing world.
Until figures on the political left learn to be present in these spaces and address the grievances of “Lost Boys”, we may continue to see them rallying around figures like Trump in their search for meaning.
If the future belongs to Gen Z, it’s clear this particular subset of young men is not ready to follow the same path as their progressive peers. For many “Lost Boys”, Trump is more than just a political figure – he is a symbol of empowerment in a world that increasingly leaves them behind.
As the political and cultural landscape continues to evolve, understanding this phenomenon isn’t just a matter of curiosity, but a key to addressing the needs of a generation still trying to find its place in a confusing world.
Until figures on the political left learn to be present in these spaces and address the grievances of “Lost Boys”, we may continue to see them rallying around figures like Trump in their search for meaning.
賀嬸唔係話Gen Z好支持佢，完全亂來
連登就是例子
估錯晒
以前就話越年輕越支持民主黨，但民主黨放棄年輕男人都一段時間，以後係睇年輕人轉得幾右
以前就話越年輕越支持民主黨，但民主黨放棄年輕男人都一段時間，以後係睇年輕人轉得幾右唔止年輕男人
係正常人都放棄
係正常人都放棄
但係依個年齡層急速轉右先最致命，民主黨好難翻生，maga 再唔係廢老黨，變咗潮流
左癌、女權肆虐
男性唾棄民主黨係遲早嘅事
男性唾棄民主黨係遲早嘅事
Trump嬴左果晚，勁多片係美國大學生唱YMCA、美國國歌，大叫美國有未來，未來4年大家有機會買車買樓組織家庭
終於發現原來美國年輕一代唔係woke撚曬
終於發現原來美國年輕一代唔係woke撚曬
女人食屎啦
又要馬兒好，又要馬兒不吃草
又話男女平等，但係有嘢唔benefit 女人就嗌慘，例如要又女人俾贍養費
買樓就難啲，買樓嘅平均由上年49歲升至56歲，而且聯邦改唔到local嘅城市區劃法
新一代都係搵roommate 啦
The average age of U.S. homebuyers jumps to 56—homes are ‘wildly unaffordable’ for young people, real estate expert says
https://www.cnbc.com/2024/11/04/homebuyer-average-age-rises-to-56-amid-rising-homeownership-costs.html
新一代都係搵roommate 啦
The average age of U.S. homebuyers jumps to 56—homes are ‘wildly unaffordable’ for young people, real estate expert says
https://www.cnbc.com/2024/11/04/homebuyer-average-age-rises-to-56-amid-rising-homeownership-costs.html
全世界都係Boomer玩曬
，但有眼睇侵做果幾年經濟好，起碼佢地有返少少希望先
，但有眼睇侵做果幾年經濟好，起碼佢地有返少少希望先UK啲男人要解吓毒先得
根本愛美同異性戀甚至
男女有別
係人類幾千年進化得來
woke根本就違反物競天擇
男女有別
係人類幾千年進化得來
woke根本就違反物競天擇
班狗屎垃圾靠woke潮流上位，變相剝削正常人公平競爭嘅機會。
班trans去晒女子運動，根本連女人都唾棄民主黨
全篇英文
即刻冇曬5毛
即刻冇曬5毛
我支持trans 同女人打
男女平等呀屌你老母
男女平等呀屌你老母
篇野都幾左
根本係woke思想完全當左男性係敵人
佢就講到係Z世代男人跟唔上社會進步
首先都唔講左傾係唔係等於進步
左派思想下男性係度度都俾人打壓
根本係woke思想完全當左男性係敵人
佢就講到係Z世代男人跟唔上社會進步
首先都唔講左傾係唔係等於進步
左派思想下男性係度度都俾人打壓
班左膠失晒控騎劫主流媒體妄想將少眾夾硬變成主流啲人自然會右傾