Just a Girl, Like Me

I am the age my mother was when I was born.

I’ve always wondered what my life would be like at 31, and how that would compare to the woman who came before me.

I am the perfect example of how times have really changed. Although it’s always been obvious that each generation will be distinct from the one before it, I am genuinely stunned each time I compare how those differences actually manifest.

I am my mother’s third child.

The thought of being in a similar position sends a shiver down my spine. I don’t think my brain is developed enough for the responsibility of raising a child. I feel like I am a child myself.

And yet, at the same age, my dear mother had a home, a family, a stable job and some inkling of what the future held for her.

I am in no way close to being like her. I rent, I barely make any money, I am still wondering what path is meant for me and I am still exploring and experimenting. And yet, in my own way, I am also carving a path, learning lessons and shaping a life, even if it looks nothing like hers did at my age.

It really puts things into perspective for me. I can truly appreciate the sacrifices my parents have made for me. It makes me realise that every choice they made, no matter how ordinary it seemed at the time, was layered with responsibility, foresight and courage.

I’m not sure if other millennials feel the way I do.

Maybe others have it all figured out and are on a similar path to their parents. I mean, I know tonnes of people who started families in their early twenties.

But, I also know many people who are like me. I see it all around me. There’s just a bit of listlessness that people try to mask, but can’t. There’s no running away from the deep emptiness that seems to plague our world now.

We are a lot more selfish and individualistic. We don’t want to sacrifice as much to raise children. We don’t want to be monogamous. We don’t want to be at home on Friday evenings.

That is all true, but something else is as well – life just isn’t the same. And maybe acknowledging that is part of the challenge: accepting that our world is different, while still grappling with the same timeless questions about purpose, responsibility and belonging.

Something my mother said once has always sat with me. She said she was glad not to be young in this era. She said things are different, worse. Life is expensive, drugs are more destructive, alcohol is more accessible and we are more connected than ever, but somehow also more isolated.

The crazy thing is that she lived through apartheid.

She lived through racial segregation and discrimination. She worked her entire life and raised children with love, care and patience. She poured into us and gave us her all every single day, and she still feels grateful not to have to navigate this modern era.

But maybe we aren’t that different. It took me way too long to realise that my mom, just like me, is really just a girl.

She’s a girl with hopes and dreams and fears and plans.

And at 31 she was probably also unsure of the future, probably wondering how we would all turn out, probably hopeful that she made the right choices for herself. I wish I could somehow travel back in time and ease her burdens. And I know she wishes she could fix my chaotic, unsettled life.

In that way, maybe she isn’t that different from me.

When I think of my grandmother who grew up in the early 1900s, my brain cannot even begin to fathom how different her circumstances were.

Yet, I still think that she too was just a girl. Each of them, like me, was navigating life with limited information, hope as a compass and the courage to continue despite uncertainty.

Each generation will have its upsides and its downsides. I’m sure if I spoke to her now, she would scrunch up her face in confusion at whatever problem I am facing. She would probably be grateful not to be me.

She would probably think I have it better or I have it worse. And in that imagined conversation, I realise that perspective is relative; every generation believes the grass is both greener and tougher on the other side.

I mean, I wouldn’t want to be a child or teenager in 2026.

Things around us might be changing constantly, but I think the one thing that stays the same is that we are human. We worry, we hope, we make mistakes and we keep going.

No matter the era, the tools or the circumstances, the core of who we are – our fears, our dreams, our capacity to love and to fail – remains unchanged.

It’s this shared humanity that ties us to our parents, our grandparents and even those yet to come, reminding us that while the world evolves, the essence of growing, learning and striving endures.

– Anne Hambuda is a social commentator, poet and novelist. Follow her online or email her at annehambuda@gmail.com for more.

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