Dear Reader,
I never used to be the type of person who was afraid of getting older. I can’t remember ever flipping through childhood photo albums wistfully or crying at my elementary or middle school graduations. Instead, I just looked to the next big milestone as if it were a guiding light, each year that passed only bringing me closer to its glow. From starting high school to my first homecoming, to prom night, to learning to drive, I always turned to the future.
Part of why I was so enamoured with growing up was my obsession with coming-of-age movies. They always romanticized teenagehood just enough that it seemed like a fantasy, while also capturing the self-discovery that comes with exiting childhood for good. It’s occurred to me recently that now, I’m at the same stage in my life as all my childhood favorite characters were, and suddenly, they don’t seem so grown-up and infallible. As I prepare to embark on my own journey, I’ve found that turning to those old movies and storylines has renewed purpose in my life.
There’s something to be said about the way films like “The Edge of Seventeen” capture that part of life. It’s a strange age to be, especially since it’s right between such huge milestones. Sixteen is the age of excitement, when you can finally get a license, land yourself a job and find the sense of independence you’ve been searching for forever. Eighteen is when that independence is cemented, and you’re officially grown up enough to be taken seriously as you vote, pay taxes and head off to college. But 17 has no benchmarks of adulthood, nothing big to look forward to other than finally being done with college applications, and, if you have a summer birthday like I do, walking the stage at graduation.
At 17, you’re expected to be an adult, only with the privileges of a child. You have to be responsible enough to have it all together, decisive enough to make plans that affect the rest of your life and mature enough to know exactly who you are — but at the same time, you’re treated like you’re still in middle school by every adult around you. Sure, I’m old enough to decide where I’ll spend the next four years, register to vote and drive a car, but I still go home with permission slips for my parents to sign about PG-13 movies at the beginning of the quarter. It’s like you’re a walking contradiction that no one can make sense of — not even you.
I spent my 17th birthday this past summer at my aunt’s house in Austin, and as I blew out the candles on my cake, I couldn’t help but think of what it would be like to be so close yet so far from the next big event in my young life. It was a feeling that, to my surprise, was accompanied by a sense of unaccomplishment. Suddenly, I’d crossed the invisible threshold for adding new things to my resume, for being seen as young and accomplished. It was the first time I truly understood why my classmates had cried when we graduated from elementary and middle school.
But the longer I’ve experienced it, the more I’ve been able to accept how weird it all feels. Yes, it’s confusing to say the least when I’m a “young adult” in one class and “a kid” in another, a “responsible community member” at school and “inexperienced” at home. But maybe that’s what this phase of life is all about: learning to live in the in-between space you carve out for yourself.
Standing at the edge of seventeen, I’m looking back at the last three years of high school and forward at what’s to come, the future I’m about to fall into. It’s equal parts exciting and frightening — but then again, it’s not like I’m new to contradictions.
Signing off,
Mahika
