Deny, surprise, repeat

You know at the beginning of every "Simpsons" episode when Bart stands in front of the blackboard writing some mantra out, over and over and over, usually starting with "I will not...", where the ellipsis indicate some bad or undesirable behaviour? You know that scene? Lately, I feel a little like Bart in front of the blackboard, writing:
"I will not dwell on the bad things happening in South Africa."
"I will not dwell on the bad things happening in South Africa."
"I will not dwell on the bad things happening in South Africa."

And so I won't.

I went to an Appreciation Breakfast at one of my partner organizations this morning that included a lecture on social change. In the past, the organization has hosted some Big Names for the lecture, from business and political leaders to struggle stalwarts and NGO superhumans. Today, they hosted some speakers of far less grandeur and reputation. The speakers were five second-year students from the Leadership and Self Development Course that the organization runs as part of its educational offerings for young people from economically marginalized backgrounds. The lecture wasn't a lecture so much as the launch of their 45-page book on social change titled: "It starts with ME: Youth shaping a better South Africa"

In the book's foreword  the students' lecturer writes: "If all that we see is what is going wrong and how difficult life is, we can become discouraged and give up more easily. If we are aware of the opportunities, and become excited about the possibility of reaching our fullest potential as human beings, life opens up and becomes a source of joy and fulfillment." The book was the result of the students' research project, a project that had seen them talking to young people about their successes, their strengths and their visions for the future.

Now, I may be a flowery optimist, but I'm more fynbos than frills: I'm all for holding hands, but not to the point that I get sweaty palms. Pragmatically optimistic is probably a good descriptor. So I sat there this morning and looked at the cover of the book and thought, ok, this is nice, lovely, well done on them I'm glad they learnt but actually this is not quite my vibe. Then I shut up in my mind and I listened. I shoved out all the horrendous images of the past weeks and months and I listened. I really listened. Look, it's not as though there wasn't a sprinkling of sappy sentimentality, but resoundingly, overwhelmingly, what there was was sincerity.

Five students, who've had their own difficulties in life, talking about other students who've inspired them. And yeah, there was a lot of repetition, but that's what made it real. That's what made me realize that there's some element of commonality to human experience that allows us to be inspired by some of the same things. They spoke about what surprised them about this project, and what surprised them surprised me. "We found out that the youth has so much potential," they said, "that the youth are the future."

Well obviously I thought. Everyone has potential. And then I facepalmed myself and would've kicked me if it were possible. Yes, in my world where wealth and opportunity abound, potential is expected. A meaningful future is pretty much guaranteed. It's not a surprise when someone is successful, it's not something to celebrate. But when the criteria of your study is that the 16 year olds who participate are  still in school, haven't had a child and don't use drugs, I can begin to understand their surprise. And that's what was inspiring. The sincere and honest surprise that hells, actually, I can do something with my life because people who look like me, have families like mine, who go to the same shitty schools and live the same difficult lives can make something magical out of the scraps they've been given to build a spaceship.

Maybe I've gone soft. Maybe my denial of the negative has made me into a marshmallow incapable of cynical critique. The alternative, however, is to face the mess of the farm protests, of the NGO funding crisis, of the everyday poverty that flavours my city. And I'm not quite ready for that yet...