From Mewing to Gigachads: Parents Struggle to Decode the Latest Slang

Cecilia Hermawan relies on text chains with fellow parents to stay updated on the latest words her kids are using. But even that didn’t prepare her for the moment her 9-year-old casually mentioned “mewing.”

“I had no idea what it meant,” said Hermawan, 41. “I had to Google it and even double-check with my friend Emily.”

To her relief, the term referred to a facial exercise meant to improve jawline definition—nothing inappropriate. “You look in the mirror and mew,” she explained.

Each generation invents its own slang, but thanks to social media, today’s kids are constantly churning through new phrases at lightning speed. Words spread and fade so quickly that even the most engaged parents struggle to keep up. Older siblings pass down vocabulary, leaving even 4-year-olds calling things “sus” (short for suspicious).

Middle school teacher Philip Lindsay has taken to documenting the ever-growing lexicon of his students. In a recent video, he rattled off 31 slang terms he heard in just one week.

Cecilia Hermawan keeps up with her daughter’s latest lingo through text chains with other parents. Photo: Cecilia Hermawan

Beta maxing. Gyat. Gigachad. Baddie. Sigma. Skibidi. The list—and its shifting spellings and meanings—never stops growing.

Some parents have resorted to wearing noise-canceling headphones to tune out what they consider nonsense. Others just want to know whether they’re being complimented or insulted. The most determined among them have taken an “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” approach, diving into online research to stay fluent in youth slang.

“When we were kids, slang was simpler, and you could usually guess what it meant,” said Jen Kim, a stay-at-home mom from a Dallas suburb. “Now, it’s like learning a whole new language.”

Kim, 38, recently gave her niece a set of colored pencils. Instead of a simple “thank you,” the 10-year-old responded, “Slay, girl, slay.”

“I figured that was good,” Kim said.

Things got murkier when her husband jokingly claimed he had “rizz” (short for charisma). Avery, unimpressed, shot him down: “No, you have no rizz.”

Avery then turned to Kim and declared her “beta” while calling her husband “omega.”

“Apparently, because I married him, that brought my stock down,” Kim laughed.

Avery, who picks up most slang from friends, admits the meanings aren’t always consistent. But she was certain about one thing: her uncle has “zero percent rizz.”

Jen Kim and her husband have been learning the ins and outs of tween slang thanks to Kim’s 10-year-old niece. Photo: Jen Kim

“Omega is like the lowest rank you can get,” she explained.

For Matt Murray, 51, the confusion started a few years ago when he realized he couldn’t tell if his teenage son was mocking him. To keep up, he now scours Reddit threads weekly for definitions of new phrases.

“It’s basically a foreign language,” said Murray, a software strategist in San Francisco. “I can recognize it better than I can use it.”

Still, he has managed to work a few terms into conversation—deeve, preesh, glazing, Fanum tax, purr, and at least one phrase he refuses to repeat in polite company. He even dropped “sus” in a work meeting, though he draws the line at “skibidi.”

“That one’s too vague. I give up,” he admitted.

Despite the overwhelming number of new words, linguists say slang hasn’t actually increased—it’s just more visible.

“There’s more power for words from small communities to break out,” said Jessi Grieser, an associate professor of linguistics at the University of Michigan.

What has changed is how quickly phrases come and go.

“Social media accelerates the life cycle of slang,” Grieser said. “A term can emerge, evolve, and disappear in record time.”

Many modern slang terms originate in African American and LGBTQ+ culture, while others stem from viral moments or YouTube trends.

Sharon Blanchet, a 78-year-old retired attorney from San Diego, recently had breakfast with her 17-year-old granddaughter McKenna and had to pause the conversation to ask what “homie hopping” meant.

“It’s when someone breaks up with their boyfriend and then dates someone else in the same friend group,” Blanchet explained. “Boy, do I feel old.”

Carleen Haylett, a startup founder, estimates her 13-year-old son uses at least 50 words a day that she’d need to Google to understand. She’s given up trying.

With his gaming setup in a common area of their Costa Rica home, Haylett is constantly subjected to the evolving slang of teenage boys.

“I can’t focus on a book or a show because I keep getting distracted,” she said. “I finally started using noise-canceling AirPods just to tune it out.”

Even when she understands a word, like “bruh” (short for brother, used as a casual address), she’s not thrilled when her son uses it on her.

“For months, I was ‘bruh,’” Haylett said. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Luckily, the rapid turnover of slang works in parents’ favor—“bruh” is already on its way out.

“I still hear it sometimes,” she said, “but it’s so September 2024.”