Hannah, 29:
It feels strange reflecting on 2020, when all the hallmarks of a typical year have disappeared. 2020 will forever live in my mind as the 300 days of March. Summer roof parties, restaurant dates, and passport stamps were replaced with banana bread baking, journaling, and watching my eyebrows grow out to Groucho level lengths.
2020 was simultaneously the longest and shortest year of my life. In January and February, I set my sights on the future and enrolled at Miami Ad School in order to secure the professional future I wanted. In March I lost my part time job due to the impending threat of the Coronavirus, and in April I sat in my Brooklyn apartment and listened with horror as ambulance sirens blared all day long, carrying patients to local hospitals while the federal government sat back and did nothing. In May and June I watched with trepidation as a nation courageously confronted and protested against racism and police brutality. In June, my heart swelled out of my chest as I watched my community band together to support its most vulnerable members through one of the hardest periods in recent history. In June and July, I prepared to move back to my parents house and face an unknown future, both socially, politically, and professionally. In September and October I gritted my teeth and dealt with the rollercoaster of emotions that comes along with moving back in with your parents at 29 and missing the companionship of your friends and now long distance boyfriend. In November I rejoiced after millions of like-minded Americans cast their ballots to hopefully turn around the trainwreck that has been the past four years. In December, I am exhausted.
I won’t lie, I cried more in 2020 than I have in years. But despite all the ups and downs, I’m going into 2021 with tentative optimism. I learned that I care more than I like to let on, but I am also tougher than I thought. I’ve seen the worst and the best out of people this year, and I know that America is far from out of the woods regarding Coronavirus, public health, and racial justice. My generation has a lot on its shoulders to carry, but I know we’re ready to take on the challenge. The question is: will the gatekeepers listen to the masses? America needs to change, and change now. The new generation demands it.