Hearts Still Care

I was born on 28th May 1975 at 11:18 in the morning. That places me firmly in what the world calls Generation X — a generation sandwiched between the Baby Boomers before me and the Millennials after me. But more than a label, being born in this year carries its own set of imprints, shaped by the times I grew up in, the struggles I witnessed, and the values I absorbed.

As a child of the late 70s and 80s, I learned independence early. Ours was the era of the “latchkey kid” — children coming home to empty houses, learning to fend for themselves while parents worked or coped with their own lives. That gave me resilience and self-reliance, but also a sceptical streak. I don’t trust institutions blindly. I don’t get swept away by polished appearances. I have learned to question, to test, and to rely on my own compass.

At the same time, the world around me was shifting rapidly. I grew up analogue — cassettes, VHS tapes, handwritten letters — and yet, by the time I was an adult, I had to embrace the digital: computers, email, the internet. This made me bilingual in technology, able to move between patience and immediacy, slowness and speed.

I have never chased after big cars, big houses, or big titles. That was more the ambition of the Baby Boomers, the generation before me. They grew up believing institutions would reward hard work, that careers and wealth were the ultimate markers of success. For me, success has always meant something else. It has meant honesty, integrity, and above all, love. I want to be recognised for who I am, not for what I own.

The Millennials who came after me are different again. They are digital natives, born into an already connected world. They live more publicly, more networked, more visible. They expect recognition because visibility is woven into their way of life. I, on the other hand, carry privacy within me. I know how to be authentic even if unseen. My connections are selective and intentional, not about likes or followers but about trust and meaning.

So who am I, born in 1975? I am a realist who still dares to hope. I am someone who values freedom over conformity, and authenticity over ambition. I am empathetic to a fault, shaped by my own scars but unwilling to let them harden me. I am not defined by institutions or possessions, but by the honesty with which I live and the love I give.

I stand as a bridge: between the Boomers’ ambition and the Millennials’ visibility, between the analogue patience of yesterday and the digital urgency of today, between the scepticism I earned and the empathy I refuse to let go of.

And if there is one thing my timeline has taught me, it is this: my worth is not negotiable. I am worth recognition. I am worth appreciation. I am worth love. And I know it.

My Bridge to the LGBTQ+ Community

This bridge I carry inside me extends into my queer identity too. I came out at a time when there were no roadmaps, no rainbow flags on every street, no social media to find solidarity. It was a lonelier and riskier act, but one I chose because I knew my life could not be built on lies.

Those who came before me often had to stay hidden, and those who came after me are growing up in a world where visibility is possible, even celebrated in some places. I exist between these worlds — old enough to remember secrecy and silence, yet young enough to embrace openness and change.

That is why I make my home, my words, and my life into spaces of honesty. I want younger queer people to see that living authentically is not just a slogan but a survival strategy, and older ones to know that their quiet endurance was not wasted — it built the ground we now walk on.

My generation carries both the scars and the hope, and in that tension I have found my purpose: to live, to love, and to keep the bridge open.

Here’s a concise, evidence-informed portrait of what people born around May 1975 (late Generation X) typically shared as formative childhood influences—blending global events with what generational psychology consistently finds for this cohort.

Your cohort at a glance

Cohort: Late Gen X (circa 1965–1980) Childhood: 1980s (primary school years) Adolescence: Early–mid 1990s (secondary school/uni entry)

Shared formative experiences (global)

Cold War backdrop & its end: Nuclear anxiety (drills, pop-culture doomsday), then sudden relief and optimism with the Berlin Wall (1989) and USSR collapse (1991). 24-hour TV news & shared global moments: CNN, live coverage of the 1991 Gulf War, mega telecasts like Live Aid (1985)—teaching that the world’s crises and concerts could be experienced in real time. Technological shift: analogue childhood → digital teens: Cassette tapes, VHS, arcade consoles and 8-bit games in childhood; then home PCs, dial-up internet, email, and early mobile phones in adolescence—producing “tech bilinguals”. MTV generation & global pop culture: Music videos, globalised fashion, and cross-border youth culture (Madonna, Michael Jackson, hip-hop’s rise, blockbuster cinema) shaping identity and aesthetics. Public tragedies as TV classroom: Challenger (1986), Chernobyl (1986), famines, and earthquakes—early lessons in risk, fallibility, and media spectacle. Health crises entering everyday talk: The AIDS epidemic normalised conversations about sex, stigma, and public health; it also seeded long-term empathy for marginalised groups. Economic whiplash & globalisation: Early-80s recession, late-80s recovery, then early-90s slowdown—plus offshoring and brand globalisation—teaching financial caution and adaptability. Parenting & family structure shifts: Higher divorce rates, dual-income households, and “latchkey kid” independence fostered self-reliance, pragmatism, and a low-drama, fix-it-yourself ethos. Education culture changing: Rising standardised testing and credential focus, but still pre-“helicopter” oversight—encouraging problem-solving without constant adult mediation. Civic pluralism awakening: The late 80s/early 90s saw visible movements for LGBTQ+ rights, anti-apartheid activism, and environmentalism—introducing a values frame of fairness + personal freedom.

Likely psychological imprint

Independent, sceptical, and self-taught: Learned to handle things solo, distrust hype, and figure out new tech and systems on the fly. Pragmatic idealists: Care about fairness and inclusion, but insist on practical ways to make change. “Tech-bridge” confidence: Comfortable translating between older analogue habits and newer digital platforms. Boundary-aware in relationships: Early exposure to instability made many Gen-Xers prize honesty, steadiness, and clear limits. Media-literate: Grew up decoding spectacle vs substance—and value candour over performance.

Regional notes (India-relevant, if it speaks to your story)

While your question is global, many in India born in 1975 also internalised: 1975–77 Emergency (as family memory), 1983 Cricket World Cup nation-building pride, 1984 tragedies (Operation Blue Star/anti-Sikh violence; Bhopal disaster), and 1991 economic liberalisation—a pivot from scarcity to possibility. Cable TV in the 90s brought MTV, global sport, and advertising into living rooms, accelerating the Gen-X blend of thrift + aspiration.

In one line

Born in 1975, you’re part of a generation raised on independence and realism—shaped by Cold War endings, MTV beginnings, analogue roots, digital adolescence, and a lifelong instinct to value honesty, competence, and love over show.

I have lived a life shaped by shadows and by light. My father gave me nothing but DNA and trauma — he was not a father, not in any true sense of the word. What I inherited from him was not love or protection but insecurity, heartbreak, and scars I’ve carried for years. And yet, I refused to let that darkness define me. At sixteen, I came out to my mother; by nineteen, to the rest of my family. I took the reins of my life in my own hands and chose honesty over fear.

From the very beginning, my compass has never been ambition, wealth, or status. I am not the man who runs after big cars or sprawling houses. I am the man who believes that love — real, messy, courageous love — is enough. My greatest hope has always been simple: to love and to be loved in return.

I am not perfect. I’ve hurt people, I’ve made mistakes, and when I do, I take responsibility. That is who I am: someone who owns his flaws and keeps moving forward. I have lived my life openly, without regret. I have explored love in its different forms — monogamy, openness, polyamory. I’ve had my heart broken more times than I care to count, but through all of it, I have never pretended to be anyone other than myself.

Since I was twenty-one, I have been part of the LGBTQ+ community, not just as a member but as someone who opened his home, his family, and his life to others. I wanted people to see what honesty looks like, what self-acceptance can do. I’ve believed — and still believe — that everyone should be allowed to live and let live. If your words or actions harm no one, then you should be free to be who you are. That’s how I have lived, and that’s the example I hope I’ve set.

It hasn’t been easy. Growing up under abuse leaves you with trust issues, especially with men. It leaves you questioning whether love will ever be as steady as the love you give. I’ve stood up to bullies, survived the violence of my own father, and fought through the weight of depression when life felt unbearable. And yet, I am still here — standing, writing, loving.

Who am I?

I am a man who is moral, empathetic to a fault, and honest even when it costs me. I am someone who doesn’t give up on people easily, even when it hurts. I am someone who has learned that my worth is not negotiable.

I am worth recognition. I am worth appreciation. I am worth love.

And I know it.