Editor’s Note: More than one Rivard Report reader sent a link to this June 8, 2015 story by Brooklyn writer David Infante published on Mashable: The hipster is dead, and you might not like who comes afterwards.
The provocative piece has been shared more than 163,500 times with more than 1,000 people listening and quite a few rejecting the premise of Infante’s arguments. We include a brief article excerpt below, and hope some of you in San Antonio are inspired to share your thoughts on the subject, either in the Comments section or as an original submission for publication on the Rivard Report.
By David Infante
What do we call me? I’m a 26-year-old writer who lives in a gentrifying neighborhood in Brooklyn. I’m a straight white man with a single-speed bike and a mustache. I studied liberal arts in college, and I have ideas about stuff, you guys.
Millennial? Hipster? Yuppie? All of these, or none? We don’t have a term that quite encapsulates this corner of the despicable millenn-intelligensia. And like any other privileged member of a so-called “creative class,” being called a hipster offends me for its inaccuracy. I demand to be snarked in precise terms.
SEE ALSO: Quiz: Are you a yuccie?
Let’s consider something new: Yuccies. Young Urban Creatives. In a nutshell, a slice of Generation Y, borne of suburban comfort, indoctrinated with the transcendent power of education, and infected by the conviction that not only do we deserve to pursue our dreams; we should profit from them.
I am the yuccie. And it sounds sort of, well, yucky.
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*Featured/top image: Bow-ties were all the rage at the San Antonio AIDS Foundation WEBB Party on April 11, 2014. Photo by Scott Ball.