A Lesson in Adulthood from “These Uncertain Times”

Five months ago, I had my life all planned out it seemed. I was going to finish up my thesis in April, take the last month and a half of school to unapologetically soak in the rest of my college experience (think Tuesday nights out, themed parties, champagne at noon on a Saturday, late night pizza before passing out). Then I was going to have the bitter-sweet goodbye marked by a glorious graduation ceremony with all my family and friends.

I would tearfully pack up my apartment as I simultaneously jittered with excitement about my month travelling abroad with my parents and boyfriend. After that wrapped up, I would come home to cherish some last few weeks in my hometown before making the transition as a real adult in a real job.

When I finally moved into my apartment and started work, sure I would be very busy, but the strains of professional life would be broken up by nights out on the town with my roommates and exciting visits to and with my boyfriend where we would explore everything our cities had to offer. Not only would I be rapidly working towards a successful career, but I’d also be solidifying my financial future.

Of course, like all other plans in 2020, mine went down the tubes in what seemed like an instant. For much of March and April I believed that my biggest loss was the last months of college and graduation, but I was soon to find out there were more losses to come. With my job pushed back until January 2021, the pandemic’s influence on my life seems relentless.

What is remarkable about this time for me is that what seems like a reckoning in this country marked both by the largest global health crisis in modern times as well as a national outcry for racial justice coincides almost precisely with my own reckoning of what it means to be an adult, responsible citizen, and participant in this life that is much more interconnected than we ever realized.

For the first time, the economy and politics has affected me in a real way. That’s privilege.

Up until March, I had lived my life in the thickest, cushiest bubble there is. When the 2008 crash happened, I felt no reverberations. I continued my happy childhood with virtually no repercussions (my parents bore the full brunt of any hardships that my family may have faced). I have never had opportunities taken away or placed out of reach because of my race. Although I was disappointed and sickened by the results of the 2016 election, I had been living the past years as if I was a spectator and not an active stakeholder in the future of this country. I went through college thinking about job prospects and career progression through the rosy lenses of a booming economy, one that seemed unstoppable at the time.

All of these experiences had led me to believe that I alone was the bearer of my destiny. It is the reason that I often bought into the “American dream” idea. Although I’ve always been a proponent of progressive policies like affordable healthcare, higher taxes for the rich, and more investment in communities and schools, I had always thought this was a good thing mainly for “them”. Them being the “disadvantaged”, the “underprivileged”, those that I didn’t know personally but read about in my classes. When it came to everyone else, I believed that hard work was the main indicator of success.

This pandemic has abruptly and painfully adjusted my worldview. It’s swept me up in its great waves and changed my destiny despite my hard work and despite even my position of privilege. This is the very first time that I feel I have truly been affected by “the system” in a negative way (don’t get me wrong I’ve gained plenty from the system in a positive way before, but like I said, I thought that was due to my own efforts).

Although my situation is nowhere near as devastated as many others, I do feel the economic and possibly even mental health effects that this pandemic has put on me. It has made me more empathetic to people for whom these systemic effects have been a reality their whole lives. It is also a reason why the concurrent push for racial justice has struck a chord with me more so than it would have just five months ago.

I came into this with naïve ideals of individualism and am leaving with an appreciation for the shared experience and new obligation to advocate for all the members in this experience.

I hope to never fall back into the trap of thinking that my individual experience is unrelated to the systems and forces that surround me. With my newfound mindset, I can now appreciate just how intertwined our lives are. Never before have I relied on the prudence of strangers to keep me safe in a store by wearing face coverings. Never before have I desperately devoured news headlines for any inkling of hope that a lifesaving vaccine is coming.

Understanding my own vulnerability in this new social and economic landscape has made it easier to see those that are even more vulnerable. It is my and everyone else in this country and this world’s responsibility to advocate not only for protections for ourselves, but protections for everyone.