Words Your Parents Used That Gen Z Has Never Heard
Pull up this article next time you’re at dinner with your parents and watch them light up. The words they used as teenagers were just as weird and coded as anything Gen Z says today — and most of them have completely vanished from the American vocabulary. Here’s your decoder ring.
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Groady
A variation of “grody” (and possibly a blend of “gross” and “toadying”), groady was slang for anything disgusting, filthy, or deeply uncool. If something made you want to recoil, it was groady. Simple as that.
The word surfaced in early 1960s California slang before being picked up more broadly in the 70s. It had more bite than “gross” — a kind of physical revulsion baked into the sound. The hard consonants did a lot of work.
Example: “Don’t touch that — it’s totally groady.”
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Far Out
One of the most beloved relics of 1960s counterculture, far out meant something was excellent, mind-expanding, or beyond ordinary experience. It drew on the idea of going beyond normal boundaries — of being so good it existed at the farthest edge of the possible.
The phrase was deeply tied to the psychedelic era and the idea that great art, music, or experiences could take you somewhere else entirely. By the 70s it had softened into a general-purpose expression of approval, far removed from its countercultural origins.
Example: “Man, that Hendrix solo was far out.”
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Right On
Right on was the affirmative of the civil rights era and the counterculture — a phrase that meant “I agree,” “that’s correct,” or “I support you completely.” It carried weight beyond a simple yes. It was solidarity in two syllables.
The phrase has roots in Black American vernacular of the 1960s and was widely adopted by the anti-war and civil rights movements. By the early 70s it had spread into mainstream youth culture as a general expression of enthusiasm and agreement.
Example: “We need to stand up for what’s right.” — “Right on, man.”
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Hang Loose
Originally a Hawaiian surfing expression, hang loose told someone to relax, stay calm, and not let the small stuff get to them. It was practically a philosophy — a reminder that life was better approached with ease than anxiety.
The phrase came packaged with the shaka sign (thumb and pinky extended, other fingers curled), a hand gesture that crossed from Hawaiian surf culture into mainland America during the 70s. The combination of phrase and gesture became a complete cultural package that said: chill out, everything’s fine.
Example: “Don’t stress about the test, man. Just hang loose.”
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Foxy
Foxy meant sexually attractive, particularly applied to women. It was one of those rare slang terms that felt glamorous rather than crude — the fox has always been associated with cunning beauty, and the word carried those associations.
It peaked in the 1970s and was deeply embedded in funk and soul culture. Jimi Hendrix’s 1967 song “Foxy Lady” gave it a rock anchor, but it was Blaxploitation films and 70s R&B that made it mainstream. Today it reads as a charming period piece from a specific cultural moment.
Example: “She walked in and every head turned. That woman was foxy.”
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Hip (meaning cool)
Before “hip” became a body part reference in most conversations, it was one of the highest compliments in American slang. To be hip was to be aware, clued-in, and sophisticated — someone who understood what was really happening beneath the surface.
The word likely traces to West African languages through Black American vernacular — possibly from the Wolof word “hipi” (to open one’s eyes). Jazz musicians adopted it in the 1940s to describe someone who truly understood the music and the culture. From there it spread outward for decades before spawning the derivative “hipster.”
Example: “He’s really hip to the new jazz scene downtown.”
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Bread (meaning money)
In 60s and 70s slang, bread meant money — cold, hard cash. The connection is logical: bread is a staple, a necessity, the basic thing you need to survive. Money is the same. The rhyming slang connection (“bread and honey” = money in Cockney rhyming slang) also likely contributed.
The word was common in jazz and beatnik culture before making its way into mainstream youth slang. It appeared in songs, films, and everyday conversation as a casual, slightly underground way to reference cash without sounding too square.
Example: “I’m broke, man. I don’t have any bread until Friday.”
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Split (meaning leave)
To split meant to leave a place, usually quickly and with minimal ceremony. You didn’t say goodbye at length — you split. The word implied a clean, decisive departure, like tearing something in two.
Beatnik culture and early 60s slang gave this one its wings. It showed up constantly in the vocabulary of jazz musicians and the writers who documented that world. By the late 60s, splitting was just what you did when the party was over or you needed to be somewhere else.
Example: “This party’s dead. Let’s split.”
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Cat (meaning cool person)
In jazz and beatnik slang, a cat was a hip, cool, musically-aware person — particularly a jazz musician or someone who ran in those circles. It was a term of respect, the kind of label you’d be proud to carry.
Like so much of 20th-century American slang, this one originated in Black American vernacular and specifically in the jazz world of the 1930s and 40s. A “cool cat” was redundant — all cats were cool by definition. The word stayed alive through the beatnik era but largely faded by the 80s, surviving mostly as nostalgic shorthand.
Example: “Man, Charlie Parker was one cool cat.”
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Dig (meaning understand)
To dig something meant to understand it, appreciate it, or genuinely get it on a deep level. “Do you dig?” was a cooler, more soulful version of “do you understand?” — with a little more heart in it.
Again, jazz culture in the 1930s and 40s is the origin point. The word implied a kind of excavation — digging beneath the surface to find the real meaning of something. By the 60s it had been adopted widely by the counterculture and appears throughout the music, film, and writing of that era.
Example: “Can you dig what I’m saying? This whole thing is about freedom.”
Every generation invents its own language — a private code that signals belonging and keeps the uninitiated at arm’s length. The funny thing is, thirty years later, that code becomes a time capsule. These words aren’t just slang. They’re windows into who your parents were when they were young and trying to figure it all out, same as everyone else.
