Spring has officially made its entarnce, and so has a brand new issue of JIBS United Magazine, and this one? It’s a full-on celebration of Gen Z energy.
This generation isn’t just changing the world, we’re flipping it upside down, rewriting the rules, and remixing the standards. And trust me, this issue brings that same fearless, boundary-breaking vibe to every single page.
I couldn’t be prouder to lead this absolute powerhouse of a team. This semester, we didn’t just make a magazine, we created a moment. From organizing an event to pulling off a jaw-dropping photoshoot, every challenge was met with fire, passion, and a whole lot of creative chaos (the good kind).
Personally? Being part of this journey has been pure magic. Our photoshoot was one of my favorite moments, it wasn’t just about pictures, it was about capturing the spirit of who we are.
And now, a little love to the dream team who made it all happen:
To our writers, thank you for capturing the voice of our generation.
To our proofreaders, you caught the details no one else did.
To our graphic designers, this issue looks next-level because of you.
To our marketers, marketing manager, and sponsor manager, you brought the vision to the people.
To our vice president, thank you for being here with us.
To our podcaster, you brought Gen Z stories to life in stereo.
You all showed up, showed out, and showed what happens when creativity meets purpose.
So turn the page, dive in, and let this issue remind you that Gen Z isn’t the future; we’re right there and now to shake things up.
With so much pride,
Lili Kinga Solti Editor-in-Chief, Spring
Issue 2025
Vice President / Head of Education JSA
Dear Reader,
In my opinion, this semester was shaped by changes, big ones, small ones. Expected and completely out of the blue. I learned that change is never quiet, it is very loud. It shakes up things, and we are left trying to find meaning in all that noise. But somehow that’s when we learn the most. Sometimes we hold on to the past. We romanticize. thinking things were more certain back then. But change comes to remind us that the past isn`t always good. Growth doesn`t happen in comfort.
The magic word here is perspective. From one angle, change feels like a disaster, and from the other can feel like an open opportunity.
For me, as an international student, changes have never been optional: the language, the weather, the food, the way people interact. VERY OVERWHELMING. But then slowly you adapt, like MAGIC. So yes, this semester has been shaped by change. It`s been loving and confusing. Filled with questions?? But in all the chaos, there is meaning.
Change did not ruin us, it gave us another chance, a new beginning
With lots of love
Martina Vice President / Head of Education JSA
Ana Martina Bondone Puerta
Lili Solti Editor-in-Chief
Elena Yaneva Graphic designer
Shahla Ishak Graphic designer
Do Thu An Marketer
Natalia Eboly Ximenes Lopes Marketer
Yijing Yin (Christine) Marketer
Dace Vigule Vice president
TEAM
Hannah Onozuka Gama de Almeida Writer
Isadora Restiffe Writer
Anya Mathur Proofreader
Bensu Muftu Writer
Sadie Martins Proofreader
Alessandra Pintado Proofreader
Levente Csuka Sponser manager
Viktória Szűcs Podcaster
Margit Mijatovic President
Prabal Mittal Treasurer
Flóra Szilvia Gonda Head of International
Ana Martina Bondone Puerta Vice President/ Head of Education
Tobias Wahlmer Head of Internal
Maja Johansson Head of Social
Lebawit Y. Berhie Head of Administration
Matilda Odgaard Head of Marketing
Rebecca Salen Head of External
NOSTALGIA AT JIBSToys Childhood
BY: BENSU IPEK MUTFU
Childhood toys hold a special place in our hearts, often tied to core memories and formative experiences. We asked JIBS students about their favourite childhood toys, and their answers revealed not just objects of play but cherished companions that shaped their early years.
Lena, born in 2005 in Poland, has a deep attachment to her childhood teddy bear, Mis Uszatek. More than just a stuffed toy, Mis Uszatek carries cultural significance, being the main character of a beloved Polish fairy tale series. Lena’s mother bought the bear from a museum of old toys in her grandparents’ town, making it even more special.
“I spent my whole childhood with this bear,” Lena recalls. “I always had it with me, and it connected to my favourite childhood series.” One of her most cherished memories is from a family trip to Austria. While she and her father stayed below, unable to complete a dangerous hike, her mother took Mis Uszatek to the top and captured a photo of him next to the summit sign. “At least my teddy did it,” she says with a smile.
LENA AND MIŚ USZATEK
Muhammad was born in Pakistan in 1998. His favourite childhood toy was a remote-controlled car with red and blue colors and big wheels. A birthday present from his father, it provided endless fun racing with friends, swapping batteries, and keeping it clean. “I loved seeing it go,” he recalls, describing how he would race against his friends in the neighbourhood. The car lasted for five years, but one unforgettable memory stands out. “One day, while racing, I accidentally made it fall into a small barrage (a water reservoir) full of dirty water,” he says, laughing.
Viktoria, born in 2004 in Bulgaria, had a special connection with her stuffed rabbit, Zago. Unlike most toys, Zago was passed down through generations, originally belonging to mother and aunt. With dark brown fur and dressed in denim overalls, Zago became Viktoria’s constant compan“I had him with me all the time at home, outside, playing with friends,” Viktoria shares. Even though she couldn’t to Sweden, he still holds an important place in her heart. “We used to watch movies together and roleplay with friends, and I even defended him against my mom and aunt, who thought he looked scarier than his sister. But she was the real scary one!”
VIKTORIA AND ZAGO
MORE THAN JUST TOYS
For many JIBS students, childhood toys were more than playthings; they were trusted friends, family connections, and sources of joy. Whether it was a teddy bear scaling mountains, a stuffed rabbit with a legacy, or a remote-controlled car speeding through childhood streets, these toys shaped how they played, imagined, and grew. While time has moved on, the memories remain, proving that some childhood treasures never truly leave us.
HOW A GENERATION
GEN Z’S VIEW OF MEDIA AND STIMULI ART AND HUMOR…
Gen Z has a unique sense of understanding and appreciating art, mainly thanks to social media platforms, which make it more accessible for people to share their art.
I don't know why, but I have always felt that this generation needs to connect more with the artistic side of life—maybe because of the lack of hope in the world, or simply because we appreciate it. Whether it is literature, cinema, or music, Gen Z is connected to art in a very spiritual and holistic way, just like we are made of it and use it to create our idea of ourselves and to deal with or escape the real world.
Humor is a refned way of viewing the world, and it is also an artistic expression that Gen Z is one of the best admirers of. Making someone laugh is an endeavor that one should master and approach delicately.
Feeling the delicacy and abstraction of the complexity of all human beings and putting it in words or paintings can be defned as art. Therefore, it wouldn't be any different with humor. A generation raised with a phone in their hands has been consuming social media humor for decades; thus, they know when humor crosses the line and when it's actual comedy.
ART AND HUMOR:
SHAPED BY SOCIAL UNDERSTANDS
Since then, humor has often helped people laugh in the face of tragedy; however, to defne humor, we must fist define tragedy, which is a relative concept. It depends on the historical context we are in. For example, a few decades or even years ago, comedy often made fun of people who were considered tragic in society's eyes. However, they are not sad; they are unique, beautiful, and extraordinary, and Gen Z could see it and could never even and where the punchline of this comedy was from… tragedy for Gen Z is the state of the world, our lack of hope for the next few years and making we laugh even though we are around a chaotic situation, that is the art of humor for our generation.
Gen Z is also very critical - and we change perspective over time, what we can consider extremely sensible and artistic today can become a completely saturated piece tomorrow, and that’s because we receive a lot of information all the time, apart from previous generations that had to wait years from a “trend” or a style to come and go. Still, everything is faster with Gen Z, and that includes art as well. Even though Gen Z deeply loves art, Gen Z's attention span is short. Something has to be good to keep their eyes on it for more than fifteen seconds. Gen Z asks for creativity, but we also produce it.
Gen Z is very fond of and delicate with art. They and it very important, and it is an intrinsic part of who they are. Gen Z indeed has a personality.
BY: ISADORA MUCILO RESTIFFE
It's Not a Phase; It's a Learning Process of Your Inner Self
BY: BENSU IPEK MUTFU
For Gen Z, the 2020 pandemic wasn't just about lockdowns and online classes; it was a defining moment of self-discovery. Stuck inside, away from school, friends, and the usual routines, we had nothing but time to sit with our thoughts. At first, it felt like a weird pause, an in-between phase before life returned to normal. But for many of us, it became something deeper - a chance to explore who we were without the outside world's constant influence.
Alone, but Not Lonely
Gen Z grew up in the digital era, constantly connected to social media, memes, group chats, and internet culture. But when everything slowed down, we faced something unfamiliar: absolute solitude. At first, it was uncomfortable. Without distractions, our thoughts grew louder, and many of us began questioning things we had never considered before: our goals, friendships, and even our identities.
But over time, being alone stopped feeling like isolation. Instead, it became
One of the most significant cultural shifts during this time was the explosion of alternative fashion. With no school dress codes, no judgmental classmates, and no pressure to "fit in," Gen Z finally had the freedom to experiment. Social media, especially TikTok, has become a space for self-expression, and suddenly, subcultures that had once felt underground are everywhere.
Alternative culture thrived. Goth, punk, grunge, and Y2K aesthetics surged in popularity, with people dyeing their hair neon colors, experimenting with DIY fashion, and embracing thrifted clothes over fast fashion. Cottagecore also gained traction, romanticizing a slow, nature-filled lifestyle that was the opposite
and identity all shaped us. We realized that alone time isn't something to fear; it's something to use.
The Rise of Alternative Fashion and Self-Expression
Even now, as life has picked up speed again, many of us still carry those lessons with us. We know the importance of taking time for ourselves and exploring who we are outside social expectations. We understand that personal style isn't about trends but about self-expression. Most importantly, we've learned that being alone doesn't mean being lost; it can mean finding ourselves.
Born around the late 90s to the late 2000s, Generation Z has always caught everyone’s attention. The last generation to live almost all of their childhood off-screens, but were the most affected people by the rise of the internet and social media. Grew up watching classic movies and cartoons, as well as seeing people fighting and getting their rights. Those who lost the crucial formative years due to a pandemic, whether in high school or college.
Gen Z is also a disappointed generation; we grew up expecting our teenage years to be what shows and movies promised us. However, in March 2020, we were crushed by a pandemic that changed our social lives forever. For years, hanging out was based on social distancing and masks instead of the warm welcome at a party filled with friends. Even after the pandemic, things were not the same; people had changed, and Gen Z has always felt that something was missing in them, in their lives, something that they needed to experience, but they do not know what.
Nonetheless, this generation has created a different relationship with partying and going to clubs - they are not what we expected, based on what we used to see in movies and on social media. Sometimes clubbing could be dull, hot, and claustrophobic. Gen Z is nostalgic. They want to feel how life was before “everything” went wrong, and our anxieties began to consume our awakening days. What was promised to be fun just became an avalanche of social discomfort.
Gen Z began to isolate themselves, especially since we no longer need to go out all the time to socialize. We can call our friends from home and just scroll through social media to get entertained. Instead of coming home from clubbing at 5 a.m., why don’t you wake up at five to run, do your skin care, and then reach the gym? In Gen Z’s mindset, peace of mind and body is the secret to a vivid life.
NEW ERA WHY IS PARTYING
Out of 8 billion people dispersed in six continents and 193 countries, in the countryside of Sweden there is an university called Jönköping University, which, per say, can have a very exciting and a live student life when it comes to partying, such as the famous Kick Off, days of introduction to the school for new students in which they party a lot as well as the student nightclub, Akademien, opening every wednesday for students and having a whole house almost every week.
At the same time, students must study for their exams, which are usually based on months of lectures and take three or even four long dense hours to be completed filled with long discursive questions, or case studies or multiple choice questions and most of the times, all the three of them together… which is tiring and requires a few days or weeks (months, for some) of preparation.
Taking this small town student life as an example, that’s maybe what Gen Z could get inspired by: life is not 8 or 80, you can spend weeks focused studying for your exams, or waking up at 4 am to run, but we are only young once - and we must know how to balance a life to experience living and understand what we like or dislike to do, we need to go out with our friends, interact socially with strangers, get to know people. Gen Z had its formative years isolated, seeing life through a phone screen, and we must go out to experience it once in a while - as Ferris Bueller said: “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Maybe we should take his words and mindset into action and take a day off from our usual activities.
BY: Isadora Mucilo Restiffe
OF DISCO GEN Z PARTYING LESS?
BY: Hannah Onozuka Gama de Almeida
Success was never ours
There comes a time in every generation when the world’s weight presses down upon its children, demanding they run faster, work harder, and achieve more, as if life itself were some great race to an ever-receding finish line. So it is with us, the university students of Gen Z, a people born into the cold fluorescence of screens, raised on the doctrine of productivity, whispered to in the night by the restless ghosts of ambition. We have been told since the cradle that to be worthy, to be anything at all, we must grind. It is a strange thing, this hustle culture, this belief that rest is weakness, that the body must be sacrificed on the altar of success. Work until your fingers bleed, study until your vision blurs, wake up before the sun and go to sleep long after the stars have grown tired of watching you. And what does it earn us, the children of sleepless nights and anxious days? A resume that gleams but a spirit that dims, a collection of achievements weighed against a mind that trembles at the slightest breeze. We were promised that this suffering would save us. We were told that if we worked hard enough, fast enough, sacrificed enough, we would be delivered into a world of stability and success. But what is success? Is it returning home at midnight, too tired to eat, too restless to sleep? Is it filling our calendars with networking events, chasing unpaid internships that promise “experience” but offer no dignity? We march into career fairs that feel more like cattle auctions, selling ourselves to corporations that see us as nothing but raw material for profit.
And yet, the doors are closing. Nobel-winning economist Joseph Stiglitz has written that our generation is worse off than our parents—that inequality is rising, capitalism is no longer a ladder but a pit, and we are clawing at the edges, desperate not to sink. We are told to work harder while wages stagnate, while rent climbs, while the future becomes an ever-darkening shadow stretching out before us. The wealth
of the world has piled up above us, and we, the mules of this economy, push forward with our mouths muzzled, carrying the weight of a system that was not built for us, but on us. We are tired. And we are scared. Scared that this is all there is. Fearful that the promises were lies. Scared that no matter how fast we run, how hard we grind, the finish line will always move just beyond our reach. And the question remains—if this is success, do we even want it?
There may be no revolution, no grand refusal, no easy way out of the machine we were born into. Maybe we will always be fighting, constantly climbing, and always struggling against the weight of something too vast to be dismantled. But if there is any choice left to us, it is not in how hard we work, but why. Maybe ambition is not the enemy—maybe it is the difference between running ourselves into the ground for a system that does not care if we break, and choosing to pursue something because it moves us, because it ignites something in us that no paycheck or title ever could. Not all work is a yoke. Not all ambition is servitude. If we must run, let it be toward something we love. If we must labor, let it be for something that sets our souls on fire. Let us not grind ourselves down for a future we are not even sure we want. Let us reclaim our work, not as a sacrifice, but as a passion. If we are to bear a burden, let it be one we choose.
nonchalant
The epidemic
BY: Hannah Onozuka Gama de Almeida
Generation Z has grown into an odd time, caught between caring and pretending not to. Between childhood friendships that once felt effortless and adult relationships that feel like negotiations. Between late-night conversations that used to stretch until sunrise and text messages that now go unanswered for days. We have learned to dull our edges, to sand down our emotions until they fit neatly into the mold of indifference. Enthusiasm is embarrassing, sincerity is awkward, and the safest way to exist is with a layer of distance, a well-timed “lol” to soften anything too real.
We ghost, orbit, and send half-hearted reactions instead of entire sentences. We filter our emotions like we filter our photos—muted, polished, just enough to be seen but never too much to be felt. And so, apathy becomes a habit. The unanswered messages pile up, and the plans that never happen turn into friendships that quietly fade. We convince ourselves that this is normal and just how things are now. But underneath it all, don’t we miss it? The feeling of being fully present, of caring without hesitation, of letting something — someone — matter?
But this indifference is killing us. It has infected everything: a collective brushing-off, a studied detachment, and calculated apathy. Enthusiasm is humiliating; passion is a weakness. The safest thing is to be unmoved. So we train ourselves to care just enough to appear aware, but never enough to be vulnerable, never enough to risk being seen.
And yet, beneath all of it, we are terrified. Afraid of being too much, reaching too far, of wanting too desperately. We are afraid of closeness, intimacy, and being met with nothing but a smirk when we open our hearts. We have been taught that to care is to expose ourselves, to hand over the softest parts of our being for judgment. It happens in the smallest moments—the giggles when you talk too enthusiastically about your new crocheting hobby, the side-eye when you admit you tried baking a cake and failed. The hesitation before saying you think your hair looks strange today, before confessing you are trying a new fashion style. Everything is embarrassing. To care is embarrassing.
But this is a lie, and it is killing us. Humans were never meant to be indifferent. We were made for each other. We were made for the mess of it, the tenderness of it, the ridiculous beauty of it. We are loud and complicated—and pathetically so. The belly-deep laughter, the soft press of fingers in the cold, the quiet grief of an autumn leaf breaking underfoot. We were made for the scent of oranges in the morning, for the hush of snowfall at night, and for the unbearable joy of being fully seen. We were made to cry at the sight of an old couple holding hands, to feel something when a song reminds us of a summer long gone. And yet, we spend our days pretending we are unmoved.
I refuse this. I will not let this be the way we live. I am guilty of it myself, which is why I say this—not with judgment, but with grief, with urgency. The era of the shrug is upon us.
There is beauty in letting loose, having fun, and being full of energy. To be human is to let the sun kiss our skin in February, to sit in the park and celebrate the blooming of spring, to lace our fingers together with tenderness, to cry while watching a family of ducks cross the street. We are all undeniably tender, seeking out moments of connection and intimacy. We are all chalant, brimming with feeling, desperately trying to contain, shrink, and deny it. But why? Why must we keep proving how little we care?
We are exhausted and suffocating in this performance, and I am asking, begging, even, for us to wake up. Remember what it is like to feel without shame, love without irony, and be present without fear. We were not made for this cold, distant world we’ve created. We were made for each other.
U U U
And knowing we did not choose this. We did not wake up one morning and decide to be afraid. We did not ask to be raised in a world that taught us to guard our softness or be ashamed of our hunger for love, closeness, and something real. We did not ask to be born into a time where detachment and dopamine addiction are currency and sincerity a risk. But here we are. And the truth, the awful, beautiful, undeniable truth, is that we still care. My God, we care.
We care so much that we have no choice but to bury it and tuck it away before it betrays us. But fear is not the absence of feeling. And if we are afraid, then we are not lost. Not yet, because fear means we still have something worth fighting for. So I say, let us fight. Let us shake off this silence, this carefulness, this need to always be one step removed. Let us dare to be seen, dare to want, dare to love. Let us leave behind this era of indifference and nonchalance.
It was a crazy day at the office. The big project was about to launch. The huge project. The project everyone had worked on day and night. For years. Everything was at stake. The stock price. People’s jobs. The future of the company. They couldn’t afford anything to go wrong. Absolutely nothing. Here’s the crazy part. Nothing did.
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