This commentary is by Addie Lentzner, a student at Middlebury College, where she is studying sociology and Black studies.
My generation — Gen Z — has been told repeatedly that we can save the world. Policymakers ask us to come to the halls of power and tell us that if we testify on bills, we will make a real change. Professors teach us to pursue higher education; with a degree, they say, we will finally have the credentials to make real change. Remain diligent and keep advocating on issues we care about, we’re told, and change will come.
But as America’s 250th anniversary approaches, many of us are wondering what this elusive “change” actually looks like — and if saving the world is even the right outcome.
As a 22-year-old American, I came of age during the Covid-19 pandemic, the Black Lives Matter movement and the increasingly existential climate crisis. At the same time, I was living in a small Vermont community where I was connected with my neighbors and peers on a deeply personal level. I’ve seen extreme poverty in the rural communities I call home. I’ve studied alongside peers who faced severe bullying and harassment and have wondered where their next meal would come from.
My generation of rural Vermonters has experienced the duality of day-to-day survival and the pressure to build a better world before it’s too late. This has caused inner turmoil that has ultimately pushed many of us out of the movement for change. When adults tell us to go out and save the world, it’s hard for us to even know what that looks like.
So now, as America reaches its semiquincentennial celebration, I’d like to share what I’ve learned from my small rural community and from my fellow young Vermonters about the process of building a better world.
Isolation is unproductive; community is the only path forward. I’ve spent far too many hours alone in my room burning the midnight oil to push policy change or write advocacy articles. While this may feel more productive in the moment, experience has taught me that when I’m in a room full of friends and colleagues talking about this work, we get so much more done — and enjoy ourselves a lot more.
As author and activist Aurora Levins Morales wrote, “In order to build the movements capable of transforming our world, we have to do our best to live with one foot in the world we have not yet created.” Since I don’t think any of us want to live in an isolated world, we shouldn’t isolate ourselves in the process of improving our world.
Disagreement can be productive; there is no universal perfect solution to social issues. Our world is full of many complex and contentious issues, yet many of us approach conversations about these issues through a black-and-white lens: “my way or no way.” Growing up in rural Vermont, I’ve seen firsthand how solutions to local issues differ across town lines. Just think of education reform! So, while there definitely are shared facts and moral standards, the way we work across differences without pushing people away truly does matter.
Our values drive us better than our fear. Life is scary; the cost of living is too high, housing is unaffordable, and it feels as if our very democracy is threatened. But focusing on that fear induces anxiety, which can be paralyzing, rather than action, which is productive. Whatever your concerns may be — preserving our environment, providing housing to those unsheltered, protecting your family, teaching our children — being motivated by feelings of compassion will help build a much better world than fear that ultimately drives us to isolation and disdain for others.
Change really does seem to be the only constant in modern-day America. The process of living and improving our communities matters just as much as the result. And so I’d argue that we need to stop telling our young people — stop telling each other — that a small group of us are going to save the world. That’s just not how it works.
Instead, what if we raised our children to be part of a constant process of helping those around them, conversing with their peers of all backgrounds, generally just caring for humanity and our planet? Alleviating some of the pressure could help us connect more deeply and give us more freedom to actually make a practical difference locally, nationally and globally. Luckily, here in Vermont, we have an incredible opportunity to do just that in our close-knit communities.
Two hundred and fifty years after its inception, America is a work in progress. We’re facing existential threats, yes, but we’re not going to fix things through fear. Only hope can do that. And on our 250th birthday, I’d urge us to commit ourselves to that hope and that joy — not through saving the world, but through testifying and advocating and teaching and working for a better world.
Our ability to do that, I think, is what makes America beautiful.
