generations

Hello, St John’s! How I love your colourful energy! (I am less enamoured of your steep, steep hills: everything is uphill, in any direction, and my calves and knees definitely got their workout this weekend)

I spent last weekend in St. John’s, at a symposium on women’s and gender history in Newfoundland and Labrador, organized by the NL Historical Society. The weekend was jam-packed with events, including a pair of keynotes, several presentations on various aspects of gender and women’s history, an evening of readings by NL authors, and a roundtable on second-wave feminist activism in St. John’s. I was full up from the moment I left my hotel at 9 in the morning until 10 pm, and all of it was fascinating.

the program for Up She Rises! featuring photos of NL women activists of generations past, and designed by a current student in the gender studies program.

The roundtable conversation on second-wave feminist activism was, in many ways, exhilarating. I learned so much about the heady days of consciousness raising sessions, the establishment of Newfoundland (later St. John’s) Status of Women and also, later the complex logistics involved in establishing the Morgentaler clinic (now Athena clinic), from quiet funders, to city council allies, to meetings with Morgentaler, to the noisy and abusive shouting, jostling, and protests that accompanied the clinic’s opening. The energy among these women was vital and vibrant as they shared their stories and experiences. As one of the audience members said (paraphrasing, because I can’t remember exactly what she said): “Listening to you made me cry.” And it did – their stories were (and are) powerful testimonies.

A quote from the St. John’s Daily News, as seen at the Colonial Building, where lawmakers debated women’s suffrage in the early decades of the twentieth century. The Colonial Building is now a provincial historic site.

Near the end of the roundtable, the conversation turned – as it almost it inevitably seems to do – to generational differences. Young people, some panellists lamented, didn’t have the community they had enjoyed. They weren’t activist enough. They were wasting their time on their phones. They weren’t doing enough. They weren’t having the necessary conversations.

I’ve heard all of this before. It’s an unfortunately common refrain, not just in St. John’s, but more broadly. And what’s even more unfortunate is that it’s not true.

Can it be said that many young folks are not activists? Yes. Absolutely. But that’s nothing new. Many young folks weren’t activists in the 1970s, either. Or in the 1980s. Or in the 1990s. I certainly wasn’t on the streets protesting in the 1990s, when I probably should have been (well, I was part of a pro-choice protest in 1992-ish while studying at Indiana University, but that pales in comparison to the hard core work these women were involved with). And certainly a majority of women in 1970s and 80s St. John’s likely weren’t activists either, and for a whole variety of reasons.

But can it be said that young folks today lack community and spend too much time doing nothing? That’s not a fair assessment. They’re absolutely involved in and committed to social justice: they organized Fridays for the Future. They were part of SlutWalk. They have been integral to Gaza protests. They march for reproductive justice. They’re involved with Pride. And on and on it goes.

A photo I took at SlutWalk St John’s, 2015.

And do young folks use their phones? Absolutely. My kids can tell you that I hate cell phones with a passion, and that I loathe the amount of online time required in today’s world, but I also know that much transnational activism has been possible precisely because of cell phones and online activism: the Arab Spring protests and more recently, international organizing against the genocide in Gaza. At more intimate levels, I know online communities have been vital for 2SLGBTQIA+ kids in rural areas, offering important ways for them to connect with others.

Community looks different today. Activism looks different today. And that’s exactly as it should be. Today’s feminist activists have benefitted from the work of those who preceded them, and the successes of past generations have made it possible for young people to direct their attentions to other issues.

The closing panel of Up She Rises included members of the symposium’s organizing committee. From L to R: Vicki Hallett (co-chair), Margo Duley, Julia Stryker, Willeen Keough, Terry Bishop Stirling, and Heidi Coombs (co-chair).

The world, too, has changed. As that audience member said, young people have inherited a world where the social safety net is fraying. Housing prices are through the roof, the medical system is chronically underfunded with many folks without a family doctor for years on end, postsecondary education is more and more expensive (a woman I met at the Halifax Public Gardens a couple of months ago told me that when she went to Memorial University in the 1960s, not only was tuition free, but they also got a monthly living allowance!), hourly wages are not remotely keeping up with inflation, unemployment among the 18-24 segment of the population is the highest it’s been in decades, and the world is politically unstable, with authoritarianism on the rise.

It’s a hard time to be a young person. A really hard time. There are so many big issues to juggle, all at the same time.

But I know from conversations with my kids, as well as with my students, that they’re doing it. They’re passionate. They think hard. They’re engaged. They understand how messy and complicated the world is. They understand, too, how messy and complicated any solutions need to be.

The kids really are alright. We just have to trust them.

© sonja boon, 2025.