Dry January, Sober Curiosity, and the Revolution Against Alcohol

Taking a month off from drinking turned into a deeper exploration of health, culture, and what really matters in life.

This past Christmas morning, I handed my husband his gift: a copy of Spritz: Italy’s Most Iconic Aperitivo Cocktail, with Recipes and a print of a beautiful negroni illustration for our kitchen wall. It was perfect—he’s been on an Italian cocktail kick ever since our trip to Milan last year.

What I forgot was that we had both committed to Dry January. So now the book sits on the shelf, unopened since that morning. The print hangs above a bar cart that no longer serves negronis, symbolizing our internal struggle between joie de vivre and personal goals.

While it’s his first Dry January, I’m on a five-year streak. The sense of achievement for my health and self-discipline keeps bringing me back for more. As someone who has seen alcoholism in their family—and who is occasionally susceptible to over-indulging—Dry January is a sigh of relief for me. I get to prove to myself repeatedly that I am indeed in control. Or at least, I’m far from having a “problem”.

Dry January also took on a new meaning for me this year. This past Breast Cancer Awareness month was the first one where I truly stopped to think about my risks. I had recently become a mother, and the stakes of my longevity suddenly felt much higher. Cancer runs in my family, and I know of at least two instances of breast cancer. There are few evidence-based ways to lower your risk, and drinking less is one of them.

So, this month of abstinence wasn’t just about looking and feeling better—it became a reflection of how a bigger lifestyle change could benefit my loved ones in the long run.

While I’ve never seriously considered giving up alcohol completely, I find myself increasingly “sober curious”—a growing movement around mindfulness around drinking habits without opting for full abstinence.

I started to wonder, if so many people are fueling this movement, is there a broader cultural shift away from drinking? And if so, what’s driving it?

I failed to gather comprehensive data across regions from reputable sources, so I’m not confident that I can prove that people of all ages are drinking less over time, everywhere. But we know things are changing.

First off, Gen Z drinks less than previous generations, likely due to economic anxieties and a stronger focus on physical and mental health. In their youth, Gen X-ers and millennials grew up with the culture and belief that “cool” kids drank. Yet, young Gen Zers reject that notion and generally find drunkenness unpleasant and uninteresting.

With Gen Z being the largest generation on earth—about 32% percent of the global population—we’re unsurprisingly seeing an effect on the alcohol industry. Last year, global drinks data and insight provider IWSR reported a 3% volume decline in the US total beverage alcohol market in 2023—a significant downturn for the industry. And just a week ago, Jack Daniel’s parent company Brown-Forman announced that it’s cutting its workforce global workforce by about 12% and closing its barrel-making plant.

But is it only one generation driving down alcohol sales, or is there something going on here?

I don’t believe Gen Z alone is setting the tone for this change. They are merely part of a shifting landscape. Yes, Gen Zers are growing up in a time when much more marijuana is legal or decriminalized than we had, which provides an alternative. But they are also being shaped by a very different story about alcohol than previous generations.

From childhood through my early adult years, the official advice was that moderate alcohol consumption, particularly red wine, could offer cardiovascular benefits. This led to people believing a daily glass of wine was good for us—whether or not that was an actual medical recommendation.

Since then, the medical community has increasingly taken a more critical view of alcohol consumption, moving away from earlier claims that moderate drinking might be beneficial. Initially subtle, this shift has grown more pronounced in recent years.

In 2022, a friend sent me podcaster Andrew Huberman’s episode “What Alcohol Does to Your Body, Brain & Health.” I dismissed it and assured myself he was a quack. I wish I could say it was because I did my research on him and was thinking critically. In reality, I was just resistant to the idea that any level of alcohol consumption carries risks, and hence would have to look at my own drinking habits.

However, I soon noticed institutions I trusted had also changed their stances on alcohol. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) now states that even moderate drinking may elevate the risk of death and other alcohol-related harms compared to abstaining.

Earlier this month, U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy issued an advisory highlighting the causal relationship between alcohol consumption and at least seven types of cancer and called for cancer warnings on alcohol—reinforcing my newfound concerns about breast cancer.

If the world is moving away from alcohol and the medical evidence increasingly highlights its risks, why do so many of us still drink? The answer lies in the tension between self-optimization and cultural tradition.

For drinkers, there are so many habits centered around alcohol that are almost pre-programmed. Had a long day? Pour yourself a drink to relax. Have something huge to celebrate? Pop a bottle of bubbles. Feeling stiff and awkward at a social event? Use alcohol as a social lubricant and let go of your inhibitions.

These cultural traditions continue to be upheld by their deep entanglement with our social lives. As much as we millennials try to over-optimize everything, we find it incredibly difficult to prioritize anti-social initiatives over bonding with people in the long run. We’re wired as humans to seek social connection and acceptance.

It’s why habits like super restrictive diets or rigid commitments to early bedtimes are hard to stick to. Not being available to break bread and enjoy a late, leisurely dinner with loved ones can cause social strain, or worse, a sense of seclusion.

This might explain why Gen Z finds it easier to embrace life without alcohol—they’re in good company. When no one else is drinking, there’s no sense of missing out or being isolated.

Movements like Dry January and sober curiosity, the medical community’s shifting stance, and declines in the alcohol industry all point to a broader cultural shift away from drinking—across all ages. And that new norm could be a very positive thing for our health and wellbeing. Or at least, it could create more opportunities for drinkers to break bad habits.

However, until we reach a real tipping point, alcohol is still deeply ingrained in our cultural habits. For us drinkers, we’ll have to continue our tightrope act, trying to balance personal choice and societal norms with tough, daily decisions around our priorities.

Drinking remains a deeply personal choice, shaped by our individual lives and the communities we’re part of. But there’s power in approaching these decisions honestly and mindfully—understanding not just how much and why we drink, but also whether it continues to serve us. If it doesn’t, that’s OK—it’s part of being human to evolve and recalibrate. If it still does, then for now, cheers, santé, and salud!

Practical tip: If you’re a fan of Italian cocktails or bitter flavors, my husband found a Campari-esque non-alcoholic soda called Sanbittèr and chinotto—a soft drink made from myrtle-leaved oranges. We’ve been making refreshing beverages by mixing the two over ice and they’ve been a godsend this January.