The real mile markers on the journey to adulthood

My 21st birthday fell just five days after my wedding day. Giddy with the thought that we had finally crossed the threshold to adulthood, my new husband and I boarded a train for Newport, Rhode Island. It was November in New England, hardly honeymoon weather, but we had a cozy timeshare. We spent the week doing “adult” things like eating out and boutique shopping. I bought a pet beta fish, Coby. By the end of the week, we had maxed out our credit cards. My husband’s parents had to pick us up and drive us back to our Boston apartment; I held Coby on my lap the whole way home.

So much for that magical transformation we had anticipated. Over the years we came to realize that growth and maturity aren’t door prizes waiting at any particular birthday or ceremony. They are learned, earned, and relearned over time, bit by bit.

I’m reminded of that lesson as I read this week’s cover story exploring what 21 looks like for a dozen young adults around the world. It is an ambitious and exquisitely executed project involving 10 photographers, 11 countries, 12 subjects, and 13 reporters, led by Ryan Lenora Brown. I encourage you to delve into this special global report both in the magazine and online, where each 21-year-old shares his or her own story. 

When the team began reporting this project nearly five months ago, they sought to explore what it means to come of age amid the global upheaval of a pandemic. Would this year of loss disrupt their transition to adulthood? Would it change who they became?

Indeed, the team found stories of dreams deferred and opportunities stalled. But beneath the boredom and frustration, fear and loss, they found shoots of growth. 

Jaafar Al Ogaili, a new American citizen who came to the United States as an Iraqi refugee, learned that it is OK to cry after witnessing the gratitude of a friend he had delivered groceries to during quarantine. Jimena Pérez Sánchez of Mexico City learned to cope with grown-up proportions of guilt and fear when both she and her mother were diagnosed with COVID-19. 

This likely isn’t the kind of blossoming that Jaafar and Jimena had hoped their 21st year would bring. But such points of emotional growth are the real mile markers, more than any rite of passage.

Societies hang a lot on this period of life. The numerical age varies from culture to culture, but there is often a sense that a specific age signifies the completed metamorphosis. In reality, none of us ever really stop growing up. I find that comforting because it means there is always something to strive and hope for.

It’s been 20 years since my husband and I stood on a cold Newport sidewalk waiting for a ride home from our honeymoon. Even now, neither of us really feels like an adult. And we wouldn’t have it any other way.