Are you having trouble coming to grips with your own language recently? Don't fret – even Gen Z is confused.
If you've heard a tween or young teen yell “six seven” at the mall, or seen “chopped” pop up in your TikTok comments, you've come across some of the first cultural contributions of Gen Alpha, the oldest of whom turn 15 this year.
Born between 2010 and 2024, they're the first generation raised entirely on algorithms – children who learnt to talk in the rhythm of Twitch streams and Discord chats, whose jokes are shaped by the same “brain rot”, as it's called non-pejoratively, that keeps the rest of us scrolling at 2am.
Their slang doesn’t emerge from largely offline subcultures the way it once did; it evolves from pixels and anti-humour punchlines, spreading faster than anyone can seemingly keep track.
Oftentimes, it's a language that isn’t really meant to be understood. “6-7”, the phrase that has now been named Word of the Year by dictionary.com, doesn’t mean anything. That’s the point – the absurdity of adding import to a nothing-ism, to the bafflement of others. It’s comedy as chaos, and identity built from inside references and half-ironic affection.
It is also the source of a generational divide, with Gen Alpha favourites such as 20-year-old singer Sombr going on the attack against Gen Z fans in their mid to late-20s, who have criticised his shows for embracing the language of his younger audience.
So if you’re wondering what “unc,” “ijbol,” or “pookie” mean, here’s a quick primer on the words shaping the internet’s youngest voices – and confusing everyone else in the process.
6-7
The phrase on every teenager’s lips right now comes from Doot Doot (6 7) by Philadelphia rapper Skrilla. The track, released in February, spread rapidly after a viral clip from an AAU basketball game showed a young boy shouting the phrase into the camera, according to Yahoo Sports.
What began as a communal meme has turned into a nonsensical global phrase – children yell “six-seven” or flash the hand sign simply because it feels funny to do it. The ridiculousness is the appeal. Those who get it, get it. Everyone else is left wondering if the world’s stopped making sense.
Chopped
If someone calls you “chopped,” you’ve lost. It means unattractive, uncool and generally not “it” – usually with a bit of sting behind it. The word’s been floating around TikTok and school hallways without a clear origin, though it echoes the idiom “What am I, chopped liver?”. Gen Alpha has stripped that down to a single, brutal syllable.
Unc
Short for “uncle”, and not a term of endearment. To be called unc is to be gently exiled from youth culture. You’re old, you’re trying too hard, or you’ve simply revealed that you remember Vine (which shut down in 2017). Versions of the word have shown up in rap since the early 2000s, but Gen Alpha has turned it into a generational verdict. Gen Z had “boomer”, but Gen Alpha has set the dividing bar far closer.
Ijbol
Short for “I just burst out laughing” and pronounced eej-bowl, it’s the cooler and newer Lol. Gone are the days of laughing out loud, now it’s all about bursts of laughter.
Not that there was anything wrong with Lol, of course. But it has been around for a long time, and everyone knows that if your parents are using it, it’s not cool – necessitating an alternative.
Fan behaviour
“Stan” walked so “fan behaviour” could run. The phrase calls out anyone acting too obsessed or emotionally invested – whether it’s about a celebrity, a friend or a crush. It’s teasing, not cruel, and often said with affection. In a world built on parasocial habits, Gen Alpha has learnt to mock obsession even as they live inside it.
Crash out
To “crash out” is to snap. It’s when you stop pretending everything’s fine and let the anger or frustration spill out. The phrase sometimes comes with a warning – “I’m about to crash out” – meaning anyone nearby should probably take a step back. Other times, it's used pejoratively to describe someone who has lost their cool.
Pookie
Every language of chaos needs its softer words. “Pookie” is one of the few that still sound genuinely sweet – a term of endearment used both earnestly and ironically. It’s the Gen Alpha version of “babe” or “sweetheart,” proof that even in an age of irony and overload, affection somehow survives.
