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Gen Z longs for the 90s. Can Democrats lean into this?

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by Ani Feinberg, opinion contributor - 04/26/26 11:00 AM ET

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by Ani Feinberg, opinion contributor - 04/26/26 11:00 AM ET

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Nostalgia for the 1990s is nothing new. From $500 film cameras to the revival of my mom’s low-rise jeans, Gen Zers, specifically, have embraced the ’90s as if the decade were their own.

But watching the fandom following Ryan Murphy’s Hulu docuseries, “Love Story,” I have grown more convinced than ever that the universality of 1990s nostalgia is a tool the Democratic Party is overlooking.

Most analyses of “Love Story” have been fairly on the nose when it comes to explaining how the show became Disney Plus’s most streamed drama of all time. It is a story about a young, attractive couple whose flaws make us feel better about our own. Two people falling in love in a comfortably analog world, wrapped in the notorious Kennedy allure.

Critics agree, and I do too: the show resonates with Gen Z because of our frustration with a status quo defined by expensive trends, disappointing dating apps, and lonely social media algorithms. We love Carolyn’s minimalist style, her accessible luxury chic. We are jealous of the couple’s real-life meet-cute. We long for the days when everyone was reading the same headline.

So the show reminds us of what we’re missing. But if that reminder is powerful enough to inspire JFK Jr. lookalike competitions nationwide and boost Calvin Klein sales, can it also influence political opinions?

At its core, 1990s nostalgia comes down to two desires: for common culture and for in-person connection. Conservatives already know this and capitalize on it. As a member of a left-leaning club that listens to right-wing podcasts (yes, that’s a thing) I have absorbed plenty of content from influencers like Dan Bongino, Benny Johnson, Candace Owens and Isabel Brown, all of whom frequently allude to “simpler times.”

Those times are coded as homogenous, truthfully characterized by a more patriarchal, racist and heteronormative society. Religion was the main engine of community-gathering. This memory of the past is exclusionary by design yet just broad enough to remind the most privileged of when they had it even better.

But I don’t believe nostalgia belongs to the right. The left could capitalize on it too, if they choose to. “Progressive nostalgia” is definitely an oxymoron, and we don’t need to go so far as to call it that. I believe it is possible, however, to thread nostalgia into left-leaning campaigns rooted in social justice, environmentalism and equal opportunity.

For one, progressive politicians can do a far better job of storytelling. Nostalgia, at the end of the day, is about reminiscing in the chapters we know the endings to. It’s about envisioning a world that once was reality, a world that real people walked in. Grand, abstract language about an idealistic future doesn’t tell this kind of intimate story, and that language offers very little for people to feel connected to.

Don’t describe to us a version of America in which every person can love who they want safely and freely. Paint us the picture of June 12, 1967, when the Supreme Court ruled unanimously that laws banning interracial marriage violated the 14th Amendment. We need stories that make us proud and remind us that consensus is possible. That’s common culture in its most powerful form.

Second, in pursuit of the human connection we’re also nostalgic for, progressive politicians should aim to strike a finer balance between digital-first organizing and creative, in-person activations — and I say this as a political digital strategist. I’ll admit that the term “third space” has overstayed its welcome in our discourse, but the data does not lie: Gen Z is lonelier than any generation before it, and any political group that can figure out how to consistently bring young people together in an inclusive, healthy manner, will have the ultimate upper hand. When you successfully create those spaces, the viral digital content will follow naturally.

“We’re not going back” has been the deliberate message of the Democratic Party for quite some time, and I understand why. The Trump administration is reversing decades of progress on gender rights, civil rights and human rights, ushering us closer to a time when Americans had even less dignity than they do today.

Yet that message leaves something on the table. “Make America Great Again” does not capture the same 1990s nostalgia from “Love Story” that’s pulling at our heart strings — at least not in a way that can co-exist with