Why Pop Culture Felt Shocking Before We Could Understand It

Growing Up Afraid of Ozzy

I never really listened to Ozzy Osborne as a kid. His music seemed loud, obnoxious, and quite frankly a little bit scary. Growing up in a conservative midwestern town didn’t really allow me to understand the idea that there could be beauty in chaos. Back then, I knew Ozzy as the guy who bit the head off a bat on stage, which, at age ten, felt absolutely terrifying and thoroughly off-putting. The thought of someone eating an animal in front of a screaming crowd was enough to make me turn the volume down and hide behind the couch.

But now, years later, sitting in my living room with headphones on, the same songs that once made me flinch now feel emotional and even comforting. Mama, I’m Coming Home isn’t just a heavy metal ballad. It’s about survival, reflection, and vulnerability. See You on the Other Side isn’t some ghost story about the afterlife, but a meditation on grief, perspective, and, dare I say…. hope. And with I Don’t Wanna Change the World, his defiance, refusal to apologize, and sheer insistence on being unapologetically himself shone through in such a way, that the same Ozzy I once wrote off as a screaming madman, suddenly seemed wise.

Then I started thinking: what if the pop culture of our youth only felt shocking because we hadn’t yet gained the perspective to understand it?

Nirvana and the Soundtrack of Millennial Confusion

In August of 1991, Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit hit the airwaves with a resounding whoosh that literally knocked most of us off our feet, while those of us left standing tried desperately to make sense of what we were hearing. Abruptly shifting the sound of a generation, Nirvana became the forefront of the grunge movement, electrifying and bewildering the world with lyrics that were both passive aggressive and delightfully absurd.

It didn’t matter that most of us had no idea what any of it meant. We all turned up the volume and belted out the lyrics anyway,…loudly, much to the disdain and confusion of our parents. Nirvana songs gave meaning to every millennial’s heart and soul. They captured a feeling that many of us carried around but couldn’t yet articulate. A mix of boredom, frustration, and the dread of not fitting into a world that seemed rigid and unforgiving. Back then, the songs felt abrasive and sometimes confusing, mirroring our own inner chaos. Now, looking back, it’s clear that these artists were expressing emotions and truths that society hadn’t yet learned how to recognize, let alone discuss.

Sitting here with my Heart-Shaped Box all these years later, I find myself drawn not just to the grunge theatrics, but to the pain and complexity in these songs. Something in the Way pays homage to our senses of isolation and vulnerability, emotions I couldn’t fully process when I was younger. And Polly? Well… I still don’t think I fully understand that song, but man, those choppy guitar chords hit hard.

But what if In Utero wasn’t meant to just piss off our parents, but was actually a generation’s subtle cry for help? A way of saying, “Something’s not feeling exactly right”. And maybe it was just our awkward, unsettling way of saying we needed someone to notice.

The Simpsons: The Cartoon That Raised a Generation

And what about The Simpsons? A show that began in 1989, packed with adult jokes that flew right over my head as a kid, and yet, I loved it anyway. A cute little cartoon family that burped and farted like real people. Bart, who screamed ‘Eat my shorts!” while trying to keep everyone from ‘having a cow’, was the epitome of millennial rebellion. Yet, underneath it all, there were glimpses of a boy with a kind heart and the desire for a clear conscience, who perhaps was mostly just misunderstood. Just like we were.

Because they were a cartoon, the Simpsons could get away with almost anything. Their exaggerated mishaps and over-the-top reactions gave us humorous, unrealistic ways of imagining how to deal with real-life problems. Even though we knew we couldn’t actually handle conflict the way a cartoon family could, it was fun and comforting to dream.

Back then we laughed, but now we see the honesty in those moments, lessons about growing up, making mistakes, and figuring out who we were. And the beauty of being a cartoon family meant the show could go on for years… and as you’re reading this now, it probably still is. Although the novelty has worn off and the times have surely changed, every generation after ours can watch the Simpsons navigate life through their own brand of ‘cartoon’ problem-solving, giving everyone permission to laugh, escape, and imagine.

Thinking back, I wonder – was it just us as kids who didn’t fully understand Ozzy, Nirvana, or even the Simpsons? Or was society at large still figuring out how to process rebellion, vulnerability, and raw honesty in pop culture? Every generation has its shockers. Elvis with his swinging hips, Janis Joplin with her unapologetic snarl, and Nirvana with their raw angst. Each time, the adults gasp while the young ones absorb it differently. Maybe it wasn’t only that we weren’t ready, but maybe the world itself wasn’t yet prepared for what we were seeing and hearing.

How Far Can Pop Culture Push Us?

It makes me wonder how much farther pop culture can push the envelope before nothing surprises us anymore. Sure, each generation has their version, but at what point do we become immune to that shock factor?

Will there ever be a moment when society stops being surprised by anything, and if that happens, is it really progress… or have we lost a piece of the awe and risk that makes art matter in the first place?

Perhaps we’ll never really know. But maybe that’s the point. The only way for change to ripple through a culture is to reach its younger generation. Their openness, their willingness to be shocked, and their ability to imagine something new. Maybe there will always be something to startle us, to make us clutch our pearl strings and question everything. Art, pop culture, and rebellion exist to stretch us, to make us feel things we didn’t even know we needed to feel.

I remember sitting in my bedroom, horrified by a bat on stage, confused by a screaming teen anthem, while laughing at a cartoon family that burped and farted like the rest of us. Now I get it. Those moments weren’t just shocking for the sake of it. They were doors to understanding ourselves, each other, and the crazy, chaotic world we were growing up in.

Growth Through Shock

Pop culture shocks. We grow. And that’s how the world learns.

The real shocker? Realizing, years later, that maybe we weren’t too young to understand it at all, but we just weren’t ready to see it.