Evidence of Hope: The Kids Are All Right
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“You can teach people how to read you,” my partner said, gently. He paused, then amended the statement: “You will have to teach people how to read you.” He was referring to my body of work as a playwright. I had just been venting, I cringe to admit, about being misunderstood as an artist.
There is an idea, or perhaps an ideal, among professional artists that one’s work should be able to stand on its own. In actuality there has only ever been a small proportion of creatives who could present provocative work without defending it. New voices, young voices, historically silenced voices, have always had to train the mainstream ear to appreciate our timbre.
There is a related ideal that a person’s vote should be able to stand on its own, that our civic duty can begin and end at the ballot box. I say “related” because I consider political organizing an intrinsically creative endeavor. The writer and activist Adrienne Maree Brown describes political organizing as science fiction, since it requires collective imagining of a future society that does not yet exist.
Civics and art are two sides of the same coin. To work in either space requires deep dreaming of humanity’s potential, and compassionate interrogation of our shortcomings. I have fantasized about being able to present my work to an audience without qualifiers or explanation; I have similarly dreamed of a nation where the ideologies of the majority are unquestionably translated into policy. Instead, a powerful few dictate culture and policy, and they are at best reluctant, at worst hostile, when faced with change. Just as artists must teach our critics and audiences to read us, so must citizens teach our leaders to lead us.
To be young today is to be tired. It is to have our demands for a livable earth, an affordable existence, and equal rights regularly dismissed as radical or impractical. We are burdened with debt and denied healthcare while working multiple jobs, and then we’re described as overly sensitive and overly serious. When I say it’s necessary to teach our leaders to lead, I’m not saying it’s fair; the bulk of this labor has always fallen disproportionately on those who have no choice but to fight for their rights.
Despite the unfairness, the people featured in these pages are taking on this labor with grace and compassion. They are young, rigorous, and perceptive. They know that to create change at scale, they need to build coalitions, rally others, and turn themselves into forces of change so undeniable that the world and its leaders have no choice but to recognize them.
I was fortunate to witness an example of this early in my life, with a case that began in my hometown of Eugene, Oregon. In 2015, 21 youths filed a climate-related lawsuit, Juliana v. United States, asserting that the government’s failure to protect the environment violates younger generations’ constitutional right to life, liberty, and property. The case continues today, and with every speech, every article, every ruling, these youth are teaching the public, reframing environmental destruction as a threat to our constitutional freedom.
When I was asked to write a personal piece on youth activism, I thought, wryly, Do I still count as “youth”? I am young, but at 28 I am a generation older than the indomitable Gen Z, which is transforming the social and political landscape in real time. When I see their determined faces, I feel deeply protective. I want to carry their burden, so they may play in the present without fearing the future. I wish them adolescent idealism, freedom to make mistakes, unabashed pleasure.
I can give them none of these things directly, but I can invest in their future, and I can choose to learn from younger generations for as long as I live—especially when their ideologies conflict with mine. To do so is not to reject the wisdom of our elders; our ancestors were once young themselves, and many of their precocious dreams remain unrealized. By embracing the demands of the younger generations, we honor all the struggles that led to this moment. We have been laboring over the art of democracy for a long time—and as most artists will tell you, the real work begins with revision.
Photographs by Michael Schwartz
Styled by Savannah White
Hair by David Cruz. Makeup by Gianpaolo Ceciliato.
In the group photo at the top of the story, clockwise from top left: On Peren Tiemann: Lafayette 148 coat; Polo Ralph Lauren Pink Pony Oxford shirt; Tiffany & Co. ring, Ana Khouri ear cuff. On Charitie Ropati: A/X Armani Exchange trench coat; Ginette NY pendant necklace. On Thandiwe Abdullah: Polo Ralph Lauren Pink Pony Oxford shirt; Max Mara sweater; Retrouvai necklace; David Yurman necklace and charms. On Kellen Zeng: Another Tomorrow shirt dress; Anthropologie belt; Retrouvai ring.
This story appears in the November 2022 issue of Town & Country. SUBSCRIBE NOW
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