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⭐One of the winners of The Cleverly Creatives: "Back to Normal" Writing Contest!⭐
I was convinced that societal progress was a pipe dream: a hopeful fantasy for the bored but ambitious youth of the world. More than that, there were moments where it seemed as though society was de-evolving into the chaotic, more ignorant forms of the past. Sure, the protests sparked hope, but the minimal and delayed consequences for the murderer proved that racial bias was fighting change; and it was fighting hard and with experience of victory. And then there were those who refused, and continue to refuse, to wear masks. For years, scientists succeeded in developing technologies that saved lives and, in doing so, succeeded in gaining public support. We stopped burning witches and blaming fairies. Yet, when it came time to trust the same people who eradicated polio, large groups lost all faith in logic. I was convinced: that societal progress is a fictitious story you tell your kids so they can sleep better at night.
And then, one after another, the best people in my life were hospitalized. Eventually, my family had to decide between remaining safely quarantined, or traveling to Turkey to attend funerals. We chose funerals, but only after interrogating every travel agency and airline, and family member regarding vaccinations and opinions regarding masks and social distancing. Every conversation was “how strict are your COVID-19 regulations” and “did you get your booster yet?” Life became one of those blockbuster horror/thriller movies I used to watch with my friends: the ones that scare you, but it’s okay because that would never happen in real life. And yet, everything stopped for weeks as families braced for the plague. During quarantine, I was convinced that life would remain an apocalypse blockbuster, and that personal progress, too, was a pipe dream.
But, of course, time did not stop, though I may have lost track of the days. Eventually, the world we had paused resumed. The funerals ended. We returned home to open schools and in-person jobs. Still, I was unsure if “progress” would be made. I remained unsure until I first stepped into my English classroom. Until I first saw the LGBTQ Pride flag hung next to the books and the rainbow pins every student and most teachers wore as symbols of more than tolerance: of, rather, alliance. I felt a spark of hope. One which grew into a flame when I heard peers openly discuss issues regarding racism, misogyny, transphobia, and their past behavior perpetuating intolerance and their current efforts towards Justice and redemption. The youth spoke with a passion that adults feared in prior years. “No politics in class,” they would say. But now it was as though they knew students could not be silenced.
My opinion of progress, however, truly changed when my baby cousin was born. My family had called us with the news. “Çok yaşar!” The first words we heard them scream through the phone. “He will live long.” We celebrated the news of a new life. And I realized that, like everyone in that room and on the other end of that phone, I was happy. That was personal progress.
I thought promoting progress would be impossible, because how could I promote a lie? Well, I usually do not say this with such joy, but I was wrong. Progress is slow, and sometimes painfully subtle, but those moments towards betterment collect at the bottom of a pool until it is an ocean of hope that remains. And sparks grow with time. So now I write of progress for school newspapers and emphasize hope at the Debate Club. And I do not fear the tough conversations, because believing in change, and sharing that belief, has become second-hand nature to me and the rest of my generation. And as days pass, though we may still lose track of them, all people make progress: both personal and societal. This leaves me with two conclusions. First, when the pandemic hit, it was a chaotic and disgusting world we halted indefinitely. So many were lost in those months of insanity, but, second, those who remain, especially the bored and ambitious youth of the old world, resumed to a planet they planned to fix. And through a beautiful blend of smaller and grander efforts, I am certain they will. If future students of history choose to learn anything from this era of turmoil, destruction, and the ashes of a world burned by ignorance and prejudice, I sincerely hope it will be of the phoenix rising today: the truth that progress is not only a possible future of equity, liberty, and justice; it is an inevitability.
Cover page by Yifei Wang
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