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by Lillian Currie for The 44 North, Guest Writer


Youth activists at a protest holding yellow signs with red letters.
Youth activists at a protest holding yellow signs with red letters.
"If political institutions want greater youth participation, they must stop treating young people as future citizens and start treating them as citizens now." 

Young people are constantly criticized for being “too disconnected” from politics. Headlines often describe Generation Z as apathetic, distracted, or uninterested in civic engagement. Older generations frequently argue that young people spend more time scrolling through social media than paying attention to elections, policy, or democratic participation. Yet, this narrative ignores a much more important question: Why do so many young people feel disconnected from politics in the first place?


The issue is not that youth don’t care. In fact, young people are among the most vocal advocates for climate action, racial justice, affordability, education reform, mental health awareness, and human rights. Across the world, youth-led protests and online movements have demonstrated extraordinary passion and concern for social issues. What many young people struggle with isn’t not caring about politics, but believing politics genuinely cares about them in return. 


Increasingly, young people feel alienated from political systems that seem distant, performative, and unresponsive to their realities.


This growing divide between youth and politics has been shaped by several interconnected factors: Broken political promises, polarization, inaccessible political language, the overwhelming negativity of political discourse, and the influence of social media. Together, these forces have created a generation that often feels powerless rather than empowered. However, despite these challenges, youth disengagement isn’t inevitable. Young people consistently show that when they feel represented, informed, and valued, they’re willing to participate. Authentic leadership, civic education, grassroots activism, and meaningful representation can help rebuild trust between youth and political systems.


One of the largest misconceptions about young people is that they’re entirely uninterested in politics. In reality, many statistics show the opposite. According to Statistics Canada, 67% of Canadians aged 15 to 30 reported searching for information on a political issue online, while nearly half had signed an online petition related to social or political causes. Additionally, 37% reported boycotting or choosing products for ethical reasons. These numbers reveal that youth are not disconnected from issues affecting society. Instead, they’re engaging with politics in ways that often fall outside traditional systems like voting or party membership.


Young people have repeatedly been at the forefront of major social movements. The global climate movement, led in large part by youth activists, has pressured governments and corporations to take environmental concerns more seriously. Movements advocating for racial justice, Indigenous rights, LGBTQ+ equality, and mental health awareness have also been heavily driven by young organizers. According to a 2021 study from the Pew Research Centre, younger generations were significantly more likely than older adults to attend rallies, volunteer, donate, or contact officials regarding climate change. These actions demonstrate not apathy, but deep concern for the future.


However, while many youth care passionately about issues, they often feel ignored by political institutions themselves. One major reason for this disconnect is performative politics. Politicians frequently speak about supporting young people during campaigns, promising action on affordability, education, housing, or climate change. Yet many youth feel those promises rarely result in meaningful change. Rising tuition costs, increasingly unaffordable housing, and economic instability continue to impact younger generations. As a result, politics can begin to feel less like a system designed to represent people and more like a cycle of empty slogans repeated every election season.


This frustration is intensified by the fact that many young people feel their concerns are treated as secondary compared to the interests of older voters. Older generations historically vote at higher rates, making them a more reliable political demographic. Statistics Canada found that voter turnout among Canadians aged 18 to 30 was consistently lower than turnout among older adults, especially in municipal elections. Because political parties prioritize groups most likely to vote, young people may feel politically invisible. This creates a damaging cycle: Youth feel ignored, which discourages participation, and lower participation then leads politicians to focus even less on youth concerns.


Another major factor contributing to youth alienation is the increasingly polarised and hostile nature of political discourse. Politics today is often framed as constant conflict rather than collaborative problem-solving. On television and social media, political discussions frequently appear aggressive, divisive, and emotionally exhausting. Instead of encouraging participation, this environment can push young people away.


For many teenagers and young adults, politics is introduced not through meaningful civic education, but through online outrage. Social media platforms expose users to endless cycles of scandals, arguments, misinformation, and anger. Every day, young people encounter headlines predicting environmental collapse, threats to democracy, economic crisis, or attacks on human rights. While awareness is important, constant exposure to negativity can create emotional burnout. Politics begins to feel hopeless rather than empowering.


Growing up in the digital age has dramatically shaped how young people experience politics. Platforms like TikTok, Instagram, and X allow political information to spread rapidly, but they also reward emotional intensity and conflict. Algorithms often prioritize content that provokes anger, fear, or outrage because those emotions generate engagement. As a result, many youth are exposed to politics primarily through emotionally charged clips, arguments, or misinformation instead of thoughtful discussion or education.


This online environment can make politics feel performative rather than constructive. Politicians increasingly rely on viral moments and social media branding to connect with younger audiences. While some digital outreach can make politics more accessible, young people are often highly aware when attempts at relatability feel forced or insincere. Memes, trends, or simplified slogans cannot replace meaningful action. Young people want authenticity, not marketing strategies disguised as activism.


At the same time, schools often fail to provide strong civic education that explains how political systems actually function. Many students graduate with a limited understanding of how laws are passed, how local governments operate, or how ordinary citizens can influence change. Without this knowledge, politics can feel inaccessible and confusing. Complex political language, legal terminology, and institutional processes may seem intentionally designed to exclude ordinary people.


This educational gap leaves many young people feeling powerless. They are told voting matters, yet they’re rarely taught how broader civic engagement works beyond elections. Consequently, some youth conclude that individual participation cannot realistically create change. Feelings of powerlessness are especially common among marginalized youth who may already feel excluded from institutions due to race, class, gender identity, or economic barriers.


Personal lived experiences also shape how youth understand political and social systems. Throughout middle school, I often overheard predominantly white preteens casually calling their Black friends racist names such as “monkey” as a joke. At the time, I never had the courage to say anything, but those experiences stayed with me. They revealed how normalized prejudice and ignorance can become when people are not educated about the harm of their words. More importantly, it demonstrated why conversations about racial justice and political responsibility matter. Those preteens eventually enter high school, workplaces, and broader society, carrying those attitudes with them unless they are challenged. Silence around these issues only allows harmful behaviour to continue.


Experiences like these help explain why many young people care deeply about social justice issues while simultaneously feeling disconnected from formal politics. They see problems affecting their communities every day, yet political systems often appear slow, reactive, or unwilling to address them meaningfully. This disconnect creates frustration because youth are constantly told they are “the future,” while their present concerns are frequently dismissed.


Despite this alienation, there are many signs that young people are not giving up on democracy altogether. In fact, youth participation often increases when young people believe their voices genuinely matter. According to Elections Canada, voter turnout among Canadians aged 18 to 24 rose significantly in recent federal elections compared to earlier decades, showing that young people are more likely to participate when political issues feel urgent and personally relevant. Although youth turnout remains lower than that of older generations, the data suggest that engagement is possible when young people feel represented and believe their voices can create meaningful change.


Young people are also more likely to participate when leaders speak with them instead of talking down to them. Authentic representation matters deeply. Youth want leaders who understand the realities of student debt, housing insecurity, rising costs of living, discrimination, and online culture because they have experienced those challenges themselves. Younger candidates and grassroots organizers often generate excitement because they appear more relatable and connected to everyday concerns.


Community involvement and grassroots activism are especially powerful tools for rebuilding political engagement. Many youth feel more motivated to participate in local initiatives where they can directly see the impact of their actions. Volunteering, organizing community events, participating in protests, or advocating for local issues can make politics feel tangible rather than abstract. Research highlighted by organizations like Simon Fraser University’s Centre for Dialogue suggests that young people are often highly engaged civically, even if they don’t always participate through traditional political channels.


Improving civic education is another essential solution. Schools should teach not only how governments function, but also how students can participate in shaping their communities long before they’re old enough to vote. In Ontario, students take a “Civics and Careers” course in Grade 10, but civic engagement should be woven throughout a student's education rather than confined to a single class. Young people should learn how to contact elected officials, advocate for policy changes, evaluate sources critically, organize community initiatives, and contribute to local decision-making. These experiences help students develop a sense of belonging and show them that their voices matter before they reach voting age. As a teenager myself, I’ve seen and felt how empowering it can be when young people are given opportunities to contribute to conversations that affect their schools and communities. Civic education should encourage participation and confidence, rather than simply require students to memorize facts about political structures, history, and figures.


Additionally, political spaces themselves must become more accessible. Political discussions shouldn’t rely so heavily on complicated jargon or exclusionary language that alienates ordinary citizens. Young people should feel invited into conversations about policy rather than be made to feel uninformed for not already understanding every aspect of government. Democracy functions best when participation is encouraged, not gatekept.


Most importantly, young people need proof that participation can create real change. Trust cannot be rebuilt through slogans alone. Governments and political leaders must demonstrate accountability by following through on promises, listening to youth concerns, and creating opportunities for genuine participation. When young people see policies directly improving affordability, education, climate action, or mental health resources, political engagement begins to feel worthwhile.


Ultimately, the idea that young people are simply “too disconnected” from politics ignores the deeper reality of youth alienation. Young people are not apathetic because they’re lazy, uninformed, or incapable of caring. They are navigating political systems that often feel distant, performative, inaccessible, and overwhelmingly negative. They care deeply about the future, but many are still searching for evidence that their voices truly matter.


Rather than blaming youth for disengagement, society should ask why so many young people feel unheard in systems supposedly designed to represent them. If political institutions want greater youth participation, they must stop treating young people as future citizens and start treating them as citizens now. Through authentic leadership, stronger civic education, community engagement, and meaningful representation, politics can once again become something young people feel part of rather than excluded from. Only then can the emotional and social divide between youth and politics begin to close.


Bibliography & Further Reading


Lillian Currie is a creative and compassionate high-school student with a strong interest in helping others and making a positive impact in her community. She is passionate about pathways involving children and youth, including social work and pediatric healthcare, and enjoys studying topics such as criminal law, history, and sociology.


Outside of school, Lillian is highly involved in her community. She is an active Youth Steering Committee Member for the Women in Leadership Foundation and also serves on the youth council for Harmony Movement. In addition, she works closely with the Glocal Foundation of Canada, contributing to the writing and research of academic papers. Through all three volunteer opportunities, she has accumulated nearly 200 volunteer hours.


Beyond academics, Lillian is passionate about dance. She has been dancing recreationally for three years and competitively for two, already achieving notable success in her dance journey. She is known for being kind, hardworking, and dedicated to supporting the people around her while continuing to grow both personally and academically.


by Alaina Zhang ​for The 44 North, Newsletter & Reviews Editor


Students from the “International Students: First 48 Hours” documentary, filmed & produced by Cal Campos
Students from the “International Students: First 48 Hours” documentary, filmed & produced by Cal Campos
“I don’t know how airlines expect us to put 25 or 24 years of our [lives] into two suitcases and just move across the globe.” —Pahul Sond, From“International Students: First 48 Hours”

As a Canadian student studying in the U.S., seeing a documentary following the experiences of international students in Canada—a place I’ve called home for many years—brings forth an array of feelings. It makes me wonder what it would have been like to stay in Vancouver and study at the University of British Columbia, which is so close to my home. What could I have gained, and what might I have lost? 


The documentaries International Students: First 48 Hours and International Students: Life After Graduation address some of these questions. Filmed and produced by Cal Campos, a Media Producer and Inclusivity Public Speaker from Toronto, together with the University of Toronto’s Centre for International Experience as well as the Innovation Hub, the documentaries follow the journey of 12 students, 6 of whom have just arrived in Canada and 6 of whom are living different lives post-graduation, respectively. 



The international student experience is shaped by an immersion in the unknown. One scene which particularly struck me was Josefa Antonia Sepulveda Guzman, after she had spent some time in Canada, saying, “I kind of want to cry. This all means that I’m doing the right thing.” For her, studying at a foreign university is a dream come true—one that comes with the cost of not spending as much time with her mom (with whom she’s lived her entire life). Yet Guzman continues, ready to call Canada her new home, ready for its challenges and love, ready, as I believe many international students are, to be vulnerable to change. 


Like Guzman, I spent almost my entire life living with my mom, and leaving both my home and my family felt daunting. At the same time, attending college in the U.S. exposed me to my own inadequacies and insecurities. I quickly realized I didn’t know much about American pop culture and I’d never had friends who were a different race from me; the public school I attended was 90% Asian. I felt I wasn’t extroverted or sociable compared to my American peers. I intentionally practiced my small talk, built up knowledge of specific slang, and worked to find people I connected with. As a Canadian, I was aware of my luck and privilege—that the culture shock was less forceful. I was, perhaps, the “least international” an international student could be. Yet, at the same time, I found myself maturing at a rate that I’d never experienced before. I began to examine my own biases, realizing I could be friends with people who held very different backgrounds and values from me. I found myself thinking, all the time, about relationships, gender, academics, and the future in ways I’d never explored before. I was experiencing a type of ‘growing up’ that would’ve been much slower had I chosen to stay inside the comfortable bubble of my home and family. I wasn’t sad amid these changes, but proud of how much I’d grown each time I saw my family again. 


Students from the “International Students: Life After Graduation” documentary, filmed & produced by Cal Campos
Students from the “International Students: Life After Graduation” documentary, filmed & produced by Cal Campos

Sudene, another student who has decided to pursue a research analyst role at The Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH) post-graduation, captures the bittersweet sentiment beautifully: “I’ll be missing out on something. I’m going to miss a lot of family moments, but at the same time, I’m excited about the opportunities that travelling abroad offers to me.” We also get to know students like Mary-Rebekah Reyes, who returns to her home country and starts her own art business while continuing to explore the beauty of Trinidad and Tobago, carrying her study-abroad experience with her.  


As someone in their third year of undergraduate studies, I’m also thinking about what it might mean to stay in the U.S. and what it might mean to return to Canada or even China, where most of my family now lives. Being an international student might not be an experience familiar to many, but we’ve all had the experience of navigating a new place, leaving our family and friends behind, even if just for a few hours. Our current age has made travel easier, enabling many to live in different places. But it also means that part of you will always be tied to each city you’ve been to. My identity has already become a mosaic; part of me will forever remain in Wuxi, where I was born, and parts of me are scattered across Vancouver and Stanford. As life goes on, I know that I’ll leave more pieces of myself behind around the world and carry more of the world, engraved into me. 



When we think about the future, how do we choose where to go? As we transition from students to adults, and the future’s possibilities spread out before us, we’re confronted with the question of who we want to be. For international students especially, there’s often a tough decision about whether to return home, stay in a new country, or perhaps even travel to another new place. As the world becomes increasingly uncertain, we find ourselves caught between different loyalties, family ties, and even political tensions. I, for one, always try to remember what my parents told me: Choose a path that places you on higher ground, so that when you look far into the horizon, you can see futures that you couldn’t have even imagined previously. 


All of this is to say that while people around us might try to convince us that one choice is better than another, just remember that any choice is valid. I try to imagine all the different futures I could be living, and pick based on the fact that this is my one chance to live a life of my choosing.


Back in high school, as I thought about where I would attend college, I contemplated staying in Canada, studying in the U.S., or even returning to China. Each held different opportunities and sacrifices. Some would bring me closer to my family, while others led me further away. Some would challenge me socially and academically. Yet, one thing didn’t change amongst those choices. I was determined to study English no matter where I went. Now, as I think about my post-graduation plans, I can once again imagine the various futures before me. I can see myself in the office buildings of New York, watching the sun set from tall glass windows. I can see myself working in a publishing house in Vancouver, writing the next chapter of my novel. I can see myself with my family back in Wuxi, teaching English literature at a local international school. What hasn’t changed is that each option will lead me to higher ground in different ways, and that’s why, whatever my decision is, I believe that each of us can and will choose well. 


Despite our vast differences as international students, these choices are what tether us—what we can only do together. And when we forget that sense of community or feel overwhelmed amid change, rewatching International Students: First 48 Hours and International Students: Life After Graduation is a welcome reminder.

 

by Mikaela Brewer for The 44 North, Senior Editor


The Winner of MHAW’s Philanthropy Challenge, in partnership with Mental Health America, Wabash Valley Region, via Apuroopa Kavikondala
The Winner of MHAW’s Philanthropy Challenge, in partnership with Mental Health America, Wabash Valley Region, via Apuroopa Kavikondala

"Now the president of MHAW 2027, I’m incredibly excited to continue fostering this mission and environment on Purdue’s campus with our Boilermakers, because the impact won’t stay in West Lafayette; it’ll grow everywhere.

Editor’s Note:


Mental Health Action Week (MHAW) is a student-led organization at Purdue University that brings a dedicated week of mental health programming to campus each spring (March 2-6th, 2026, this year). For the past seven years, they’ve fostered a campus culture rooted in support, understanding, and resilience around mental health. 


The MHAW team believes this initiative not only strengthens their campus but also advances the broader effort to destigmatize mental health. I spoke with MHAW 2027’s president, Apuroopa Kavikondala, about the impact of this work. 



Mikaela Brewer (MB): I’m inspired by how hard you worked to reflect and build in all parts of student life/experience throughout the week: Conversation, academics, community/culture, movement/nourishment, and creativity. What offerings seemed to resonate most with students? With you? Did anything pleasantly surprise you about this year’s lineup, in particular?


Apuroopa Kavikondala (AK): We were so excited to involve all parts of student life during this week! From clubs and student organizations to athletics, the various colleges (such as Engineering and the Business School), and even our very own Recreational Sports Center, which hosted various events in honour of MHAW, to collaboration in our mission, our commitment made MHAW 2026 a success. Some examples of student organizations contributing to our cause include: 

  • Our kickoff celebration in partnership with Purdue Student Government and various other mental health organizations, such as the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention

  • The run club hosting a run in honour of MHAW and mental health

  • Our Unity Day celebration to honour what our well-being thrives on—community and connection. The celebration included food, performances, a creativity fair, our special guest, Purdue Pete (our mascot), and so much more!

  • A stress-board-breaking event by the Taekwondo club, where you’d write your stressors on a board and then break it!

  • A weeklong fundraiser challenge with fraternities, sororities, and cooperative life (FSCL), where half of the donations were directed to philanthropy and half to our partnership with Mental Health America (Wabash Valley Region)


A hand-drawn MHAW 2026 poster, stickers, and t-shirts at an outdoor booth, via Apuroopa Kavikondala
A hand-drawn MHAW 2026 poster, stickers, and t-shirts at an outdoor booth, via Apuroopa Kavikondala

Overall, students loved the variety of events we hosted because no matter what they were interested in, they were able to participate. It made students feel like they belonged and were heard, even in the busyness of our lives.


MB: I love the imagery, story, and metaphor you wove into MHAW. Could you share more about why growth and blooming are so central to what you (and former students!) have built and offered over the past 7 years? 


AK: MHAW used to be a part of the Purdue Student Government (fully hosted by them), so this was our first year as our own organization! The reason we wanted to make growth/plants our theme was that it’s so central to how life works and moves. Everything blooms, and then it falls/decays like leaves in Autumn. In due time, it’ll bloom again, and that’s what mental health and well-being are about. We go through phases, and that’s human! It’s very important to rely on one another and seek support, especially in those times of regrowth. 


MB: You’ve done excellent, empowering work connecting people, staff, resources, spaces, etc., to bring MHAW to life. From the outside, peeking in, it feels real: I see an authentic, full-community, hands-on gathering where everyone both gives and receives care. What did it feel like to nurture these relationships and bring so many people together in support of a shared goal? How might your work be a model for other university students hoping to do something similar? And beyond, across workplaces, politics, etc.?

MHAW logo, via Apuroopa Kavikondala
MHAW logo, via Apuroopa Kavikondala

AK: Purdue has such a great community around well-being and mental health, the MH one being Purdue CAPS (Counselling and Psychological Services), so it was beautiful to see the collaborations come to life during the week. Mental health is universal; we all have it, we all struggle, and we all must learn how to navigate those situations—not alone, but with the help of others. Any other university that wants to implement their own Mental Health Action Week should first recognize other parts of student life that can support it, whether it’s their mental health resources on campus, other mental health/wellbeing-related organizations, or even—especially!—collaborations that aren’t necessarily directly correlated. Mental health is connected to every part of campus life; we can take action from many angles. Ultimately, the reason we wanted to call the ‘A’ in MHAW “action” instead of “awareness” is that it’s time we started creating a more welcoming space for people to use the resources at hand and feel less alone. It’s one thing to talk; it’s another to do


Purdue Pete, via Apuroopa Kavikondala
Purdue Pete, via Apuroopa Kavikondala

MB: I’m curious if you, Sunishka (MHAW President, 2026), and your team learned anything about yourselves and your own mental health during MHAW? Designing, creating, and giving something so expansive can be nourishing, of course. But it can also be a lot! In this type of role—which many will relate to across education and mental health care systems—how did you care for yourselves? 


AK: MHAW was definitely a time commitment, but the reason we were so willing to put the time needed into it is that it’s such a great cause—one that’s dear to all our hearts. Even though we organized MHAW, we definitely still felt its impact and resonance in our own lives. During organizing, outreach, and implementation, we made sure to divide tasks among ourselves, ask for help when there was a lot on our plates (because we are, of course, people and students first!), and just tried to do our best wherever possible. MHAW 2026 was possible, honestly, because of a dream team, and I truly am grateful for the reliability and hard work that everyone offered. 


Now the president of MHAW 2027, I’m incredibly excited to continue fostering this mission and environment on Purdue’s campus with our Boilermakers, because the impact won’t stay in West Lafayette; it’ll grow everywhere. 

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