It's both surprising and reassuring to discover, while reading the comments under certain Instagram posts, that you're not alone in your struggles—whether it's your experiences, thoughts, aspirations, challenges with friendships, relationship issues, or everything that happens in between and around those parts of life.
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I find myself struggling to make sense of the times we're living in. While there are undoubtedly some incredible advancements, it's hard to ignore the troubling shifts that seem to be steering us toward an uncertain and possibly dangerous path. The direction the world is heading in feels increasingly frustrating and, at times, overwhelming. I worry deeply about what the future holds for children and younger generations.
I've been thinking about The Handmaid's Tale, Black Mirror, Time Cut, and similar projects. Are these simply the products of extraordinary imagination, or are they subtle warnings—a glimpse into a future that may not be as far-fetched as we once thought?
My generation [I was born 1980] grew up as the encyclopedia kids. We’d head to the library to borrow books, made phone calls on corded landline phones and many of us grew up on black-and-white television with just four channels—eagerly awaiting the much-anticipated launch of a fifth. To stay informed about our community, we relied on local newspapers. Sundays were especially quiet—hardly anyone on the streets unless they were going to and from church, or doing a food shop!
A lot of us would play outside on the weekends, or in our bedrooms buried in toys—Polly Pocket, Gameboy and Action Figures, for example. Returning to school was often exciting: catching up with friends, performing at school assemblies, playing double dutch, hopscotch, sharing laughter and playful banter.
Looking back, our childhood in the '80s and youth in the '90s were filled with some of the most beautiful and blessed moments—simple, joyful, somewhat carefree and full of connection.
We dealt with curfews, homework that often felt outrageously unfair (LOL), the drama of 'competing' for the attention of the popular crush, prepping for sports day and making sure we had the latest must-have Caterpillar boots or Dr. Martens. Weekend cinema trips were a treat, and friendship fallouts—usually sparked by gossip that almost never came with proof—were part of the landscape.
We were a generation that lived without mobile phones constantly in hand, free from the pressure to maintain a curated online presence—one that today often chips away at confidence, hope, and self-worth.
Back then, words like “trauma,” “anxiety,” and “woke” weren’t tossed around like custom-made confetti at weddings! Perhaps that's partly because our generation [especially Black and Brown families] was raised with an unspoken rule: what happens at home, stays at home. Did we even know about/understand, trauma, anxiety or realise a need to be 'woke'? In many cases, that rule meant not speaking about family matters with anyone outside the immediate household—including extended family!
This has caused many of us to experience the 'ugly duckling syndrome'—feeling ashamed about normal circumstances that others can relate to, misunderstanding ones place in the world and [in professional settings] being initially dismissed or overlooked; treated as 'less than'. Seen as timid or even difficult, only to later be regarded as someone with a surprising and powerful transformation once you have healed and broken generational patterns.

What might life—both then and now—have looked like if we had all been taught that effective communication is not only valuable but also essential, healing, and empowering? Imagine growing up in environments where parents, guardians, or caregivers encouraged open dialogue about our struggles and emotions. Were parents [back in the day] limited by what they themselves were taught, or were some complacent and dismissive instead of leading inclusive conversations? It's such a shame that in some households [that rule means] feelings and emotions are rarely addressed, let alone explored.
The phrase "be the change you want to see" comes to mind... But, if the majority are content with the status quo, or simply afraid to step away from an unhealthy norm they've become comfortable with, how much real change can occur with only a small number who are willing to lead said change?