Why Gen Z would rather talk than type their messages

Every week, PhilSTAR L!fe explores issues and topics from the perspectives of different age groups, encouraging healthy but meaningful conversations on why they matter. This is Generations by our Gen Z columnist Angel Martinez.

In a world where we’ve become too overwhelmed to text, too scared to call, and too tired to talk over video, the humble voice message is my favorite way of catching up with my close friends. 

I’m talking multiple, consecutive audio clips with a combined duration that rivals a typical podcast episode. Topics can span everything from brief, instant updates (“You’ll never guess who I just saw!”) to thorough debriefs of a show we’ve both watched or a situation we’ve already dissected in the past.

It’s intimate, convenient, and fun—like having my best friend in my back pocket, when she’s really bored at her work desk. I also feel that there’s a certain chicness to speaking into your phone while crossing the street. Many seem to think the same way: Data released in December of last year reveals that a staggering nine billion voice notes are sent every single day. 

However, this isn’t immune to the generation gap either. I honestly believed elders would be early adopters of the act, with their sensitivity to phone screens and their mildly arthritic fingers. But Christine Cox, chair of Ateneo de Manila University’s Department of Communication, explains to PhilSTAR L!fe that they may see it as “intrusive or lazy within the Philippine context. Voice messages can feel inconsiderate, demanding listening time without paalam.”

I, for one, love the intimacy that comes with a lengthy, loaded voice note. The raw emotion on the other end, the feeling of predicting their facial expressions and mannerisms, the sheer giddiness of hearing them explain something after not having seen them for so long.

Even the sounds of blaring traffic or ambient chatter in the background take me out of the present moment and place me right where they are. Now that we’re caught in a culture of endless catch-ups, these innocuous “proof of life” updates make me feel like an active participant in their routines, rather than a bystander.

I once had a friend send me voice messages as she was walking from her apartment to her office. Within those 20 minutes, I was given access to everything from scalding workplace tea to the new menu of our favorite restaurant nearby. It was bliss.

But others dissect sensitive topics this way, too. Someone had once asked me if she should leave her job over a Messenger audio clip; another, if she should break up with her horrible boyfriend. Not only can the sender speak freely and candidly, but it also rids me of the pressure to say the right thing immediately. I can give it more time and thought, especially because the stakes are so high.

Research also shows that a mere snippet of someone’s voice lets us pick up on paralinguistic cues that aren’t evident via text. The way someone speaks in a higher pitch when excited and stresses specific words help communicate complex feelings, while reminding us that the person on the other side is human.

This is especially helpful for people like me, who read too much into short, curt replies. But as soon as my friends give me a five-minute play-by-play of their day, I’m assured I was simply overthinking. Turns out, it was nothing personal: They were either in a hurry or preoccupied by pressing matters, as we all tend to be at this stage of our lives. 

It’s why recent criticism calling voice messages the death of conversation rubs me the wrong way. I do agree that we can all benefit from establishing ground rules and observing etiquette. For instance, always consider your closeness to the receiver before sending a soliloquy on the status of your situationship. Re-record in case you’ve drifted off and said too many uh’s and um’s—because even critically acclaimed podcasts do some snipping here and there for clarity. And obviously, never share sensitive content if you’re not ready to have it traced back to you.

But communication methods have always evolved to meet the needs of the present age, like the telebabads of yesteryear or the Discord game nights of the pandemic era. “Voice messages are not eroding communication but reshaping it. They reflect our changing ideas of time, availability, and care,” Cox says. “Used thoughtfully, they can extend lambing and kwentuhan into digital, asynchronous life.”

Voice messaging is a way to keep in touch when life moves so fast, and sitting down to type can be something of a luxury. It’s a way of offering intimacy without demanding constant availability. Anyone upset about receiving them might benefit from reframing it this way. 

Isn’t it a privilege to be given access to someone’s stream of consciousness? To be known sans the need for censorship or performance? I know I am truly remembered and considered if someone takes the time out of their busy schedules to hit "Record" and say, “Hey, I thought of you.”

Generations by Angel Martinez appears weekly at PhilSTAR L!fe.