Yara Shahidi

I mean, think about how many times we ask each other the question, what do you do?

Which is really a proxy in my mind for a much more pressing question.

Who are you right now?

Because what we do is only a fraction of who we are.

And this culture of heralding expertise means that our curiosities are often mislabeled as distractions.

I would love to think through what we could be missing out on by not actively prioritizing our curiosity.

Here, let me put it this way.

Curiosity has been a lifeline for me.

It's really easy to be 23 and a pessimist.

It doesn't take many observational skills to see the deep flaws and fissures of our world, to see how close we remain to these systems of oppression we swear are behind us.

And when I say I feel affected by these flaws, I'm not just talking about some existential, I have a degree in a social science kind of way, but in the very real way that it affects me and my family and my community every day.

It's also easy to be 23 and struggle to find your place.

I remember so vividly being 16 and thinking that I could change the world.

I was certain of it.

I was one voting initiative away.

I was one march away.

I was one panel away from real change, the kind that lasts.

And I remember when that assuredness was replaced by quicksand.

It felt as though the more I moved and the more I struggled, the more I sank into the overwhelm.

And I responded to feeling lost by finding comfort in my expertise.