Bring Back Hobbies – Expeditiously

In the midst of the 2020 lockdown, everyone was looking for something to liven up the never-ending days of enclosure. From making sourdough starter to vegetable gardening to thousand-piece puzzle games – which I, personally, was guilty of – you couldn’t scroll through socials without seeing someone engage in some sort of hobby.

Emma Chamberlain ©

Naturally, the hobby industry exploded. There was a significant increase in gardening goods, games, and instruments, and by 2022, a quarter of Americans were engaging in some kind of traditional hobby. It was the Etsy Revolution, and the desire to learn and create was palpable. With millions in a state of isolation, helplessness, and fear, hobbies were a way of creating a sense of identity.   

Five years later, this trend has disappeared. America’s new favorite hobby is doom scrolling through TikTok and streaming Succession while our old projects collect dust. Gone are the days of learning French, crocheting ten-foot blankets, and making pottery. When the world’s doors reopened and people returned to work and school, screens effectively monopolized leisure. And no one is safe from this screen epidemic, least of all Gen-Zers. 

During the pandemic, I read over seventy books in the span of a year and a half, and wrote for at least an hour a day. I was cycling and doing yoga, studying Greek mythology, and learning to sew my own clothes. This summer, my only hobbies were Love Island USA and the occasional (dread-filled) pilates class. 

I only partook in my ‘hobbies’ after spending the day at my internship, working furiously to make myself more competitive to potential employers. Throughout the long months, I began to think to myself When was the last time I created or learned something because I wanted to? Which, admittedly, was followed by an ambivalent Who cares?

All of Gen Z came of age during an era of immediacy. With Vine, Musically, and now TikTok and Instagram Reels, short-form content has taught us to expect instant gratification. Videos amuse and enrage us in the span of fifteen seconds before we melt us into a state of numbness. 

What sweetens the deal is that social media doesn’t demand anything in return, only our time and attention, which we so willingly give. In fact, in a world full of economic uncertainty, $8 coffees, and an increasingly competitive job market, social media may be the only thing that asks nothing of us.

On the other hand, learning to play the guitar or starting a garden requires money, and since the pandemic, hobby goods have only become more expensive. They also require brain power – a bit of a workout for our brain cell muscles. And unless we’ve already mastered them, taking the time to learn a new hobby feels arduous and ultimately unworthy of effort. The immediate dopamine release from the first hints of progress, a feeling of elation and accomplishment, cannot be recreated as we hit an inevitable plateau. 

What does bring instant gratification? Money. Paychecks. A green number in our transaction histories. Therein begins the commodification of hobbies, or more affectionately called “the side hustle.” Printed t-shirts, crochet crop tops, and beaded keychains are being marketed on social media and sold at inflated prices, which others are happy to pay. 

Around 27% of adults have some form of side hustle, with Gen Z leading participation. We’ve regressed to the era where artisan, hand-made goods are sold to make ends meet. Before mass manufacturing, it was ceramics, cookware, and textiles; now it’s whatever we can create with some string and beads. Creativity becomes a part of a productivity culture, and hobbies are no longer about exploring an interest but about continuing the cycle of work.  

So as hobbies become work, and we become singularly focused on earning, our free time is filled with the only thing we can handle or afford. Scrolling.

This summer, writing for myself felt like a waste of energy that could be put toward work, and every other hobby I gave up was too pricey on top of rent, groceries, and all my other expenses. When I arrived back home from work, all I did, besides the basic human necessities of cooking and cleaning, was scroll and watch. If someone had asked me what I did for fun in my free time, I’d have to answer, “Peacock.”  

Social media’s quick-paced gratification system numbs and captivates us so effectively, and we’ve all found ourselves in its clutches one way or another. In 2024, the National Lottery found that 24% of adults consider scrolling through social media a hobby, and 41% say that it’s how they spend most of their free time. However, along with these statistics is a desire for new experiences, with one quarter of respondents saying they want to erase social media and take up new interests. 

For young people, giving up social media feels impossible. It’s where we search for connection and measure our worth against the backdrop of successful influencers who are impossible to live up to. We think it’s a form of escapism, but it only makes our lives less meaningful. 

Gen Z is already overwhelmed by the prospect of our futures. We face career decisions, financial stability, and important life transitions with uncertainty and anxiety, fearing a life of isolation and misfortune. Instead of doing the things that bring us joy, we spend our time focused on working, continuously accomplishing things for validation. Subsequently, we begin hearing that young people are in a “romance recession” or “drinking recession,” and now, a hobby recession.

But it doesn’t have to be this way. Gen Z has given up hobbies because they’re seen as an unworthy investment of time and money, but they’re actually a way of investing in ourselves. These activities, though they may seem frivolous or unproductive, are a way of exploring identity – what actually interests and contents us. Our participation in them is unrelated to how we’re perceived by others, but rather a way of making space for ourselves in the daily hustle that takes over our lives. 

I struggle picking up hobbies because, most of the time, I’m not immediately great at them. When crocheting, I just want the project to be finished, and with drawing, my art is always a bit sinister. But we don’t always have to be great at everything we do – whether it’s hobbies or work. The sense of discouragement at slow progress is just our brains getting tired, but when we push past it, we discover passion and something new about ourselves.