MOM, YOU ARE OUTDATED! - by Catalyst ✍️

“Have you eaten?” “Yes, Mom.” “Have you read today?” “Not really.” “So what exactly are you doing with your life?” I have heard this question in different forms from almost everyone who claims to know what is best for me. From home, from church, from school, from neighbours, from people who have never asked what I actually want but somehow already know what I should become. Sometimes, I feel like my whole life has been preparing me for a life that never existed. Mom, you sent me to school because you wanted to be proud among your fellow mothers. You wanted to say, “My child is in the university.” I understand. You wanted me to have an education because you believed education was the safest ladder out of poverty. Then you wanted me to learn a craft because, according to you, “school is not enough.” So you took me somewhere to learn something practical. But Mom, where is the connection? You want me to sew clothes for presidents, yet you took me to a shop in Bodija. Where is the connection between the life you are asking me to build and the environment you are putting me in? You want me to become great, but every blueprint you are giving me was designed around survival. You just want me to survive. That is the problem. You want me to get a job. You want me to learn a skill. You want me to settle down. You want me to build a house. You want me to marry. You want me to have children. You want me to raise them well. You want me to repeat the same cycle you started. And when I ask, “What if I want something different?” You look at me like I have become a stranger. Even the church has its own blueprint. Pastors are training us to serve in the same neighbourhoods they served in. They are looking for people who will inherit the same positions, the same responsibilities, sometimes even the same struggles. They are looking for an heir to inherit the nothing that has been called a life to them. Serve here. Stay here. Build here. Do what we did. And somehow, everyone is offended when someone says, “I want to leave.” I want to fly, I want to soar into a higher place, I want to see what exists beyond this neighbourhood, beyond this city, beyond the familiar faces and familiar expectations. I want to know what happens when I give myself permission to dream outside the limits of what everyone around me considers realistic. But none of the plans you have for me can take me even one step closer to abroad. So Mom, where is the connection? You keep telling me to dream big while handing me instructions designed for a small life. You tell me to be successful, but you define success using the same measurements that were handed to you. You tell me to be different, but only when my difference still looks familiar to you. And when I finally begin to redirect my life, you call me a rebel. Yes, call us Gen Z. Yes, we are. Not because we want to disrespect everything that came before us, but because we are redirecting everything. We are asking questions you were never allowed to ask. We are questioning the jobs you were told were the only respectable ones. We are questioning the idea that suffering must always come before success. We are questioning why everyone must follow the same road simply because our parents walked it. We have seen another world. The internet has shown us people building lives from their bedrooms. People working across borders without leaving their countries. People turning their ideas into businesses. People making careers out of things our parents were told were useless. The world has changed. But our blueprint has not.That is why sometimes I feel angry. Not because I hate your teachings. Not because I think you know nothing. Not because I believe everything you taught me is wrong. I know you did your best. I know your teachings came from experience. You were trying to protect me from the things that hurt you. You wanted to make sure I had food, shelter, education and something to fall back on. But Mom, I am not trying to live your life. I am trying to live mine.I feel like my whole life I've been preparing for a life that never exists. I have been memorising instructions for a world that has already moved on. And now that I am finally asking questions, you call me a rebel. Mom, I'm tired, I want to be free. Not free from the knowledge you are trying to pass to me. Not free from the values behind your teachings. Not free from the wisdom you gained from living before me. I just want the freedom to explore.Of course, I don't want to explore blindly. You taught me how to walk. You taught me how to stand when I fall. You taught me that the world is dangerous and that not every road leads somewhere good. I heard you. I learned. But now, Mom, leave me to find the direction I want.You taught me how to walk. Don't spend the rest of my life deciding where my feet should go.Because the ecosystem around me is changing. The family is changing. The church is changing. Education is changing. Work is changing. The world is changing. And I don't want to spend my entire life surviving in a system that was already failing before I was born. I want to build. I want to try. I want to fail at something I chose. I want to succeed at something you never imagined. I want to go somewhere your map does not reach. Mom, you are not wrong because you taught me the way you knew. You are outdated because the world has moved.And perhaps, the greatest thing you can do for me now is not to give me another direction. It is to trust and believe that the lessons you gave me are enough for me to find my own.

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