Every elderpunk that has taken the recovery to social worker pipeline says the same thing:
"Figured I'd change the system from within."
Sigh. Ok, buddy. Keep telling yourself that.
For a long time, I believed them. It felt hopeful, empowering even. My shitty teenage friends were out here, becoming the helpers! They were going to change the system.
But reality? Picture it....
Young graduate steps into the room, full of hope and energy. Bursting with ideas, solutions, and ways to create genuine inclusion. But the room—and the system it represents—was never built for you. The fluorescent lights buzz, the social norms are unspoken but rigid, and the pace is relentless. You mask. You adapt. You shrink.
At first, you think, "I'm new here, but... If I can just prove myself, they’ll listen." So you work twice as hard, say yes to everything, and bite your tongue when the microaggressions come. You burn out but keep going because you believe in the mission. You believe you can make a difference.
Then it happens. You feel brave in a meeting to speak up, pointing out a flaw in the system, a way it marginalizes people like you. Maybe it’s the rigid hierarchy, the unspoken rules, or the blatant ableism disguised as "policies." And suddenly, you’re no longer the new hire people say "hi" to. You're not even a valued team member anymore. You’re a problem. Too sensitive. Too disruptive. Too much.
The backlash is subtle at first. Fewer invitations to meetings. Passive-aggressive comments. Then it’s overt: exclusion, retaliation, and eventually, dismissal. The system closes ranks, protecting itself like a living organism rejecting a virus. And the virus is you.
The cycle is even more insidious for those who excel at their jobs. Excellence often translates into more responsibility, not more recognition. Talented individuals are promoted into administrative roles, burdened with managing metrics and navigating bureaucracy.
The creative ideals that fueled their early success are replaced by furrowed brows over the rigid demands of the system: meeting quotas, securing retirement packages, and chasing promotions that rarely deliver more than a title and a meager raise. Private equity—now omnipresent—runs organizations like a bad restaurant manager, piling administrative duties on top of existing workloads. Promotions become a trap, a pretense of upward mobility masking an ever-increasing burden.
This model is especially cruel to disabled individuals who strive to serve their communities. Burnout is already a specter haunting those of us navigating a system designed for someone else. Adding layers of bureaucracy and unrealistic demands forces us to push past our limits, often at great personal cost, just to have a chance at creating meaningful change.
This is not a failure of individual effort or resilience. It’s the design of the system itself. Systems of oppression—whether in education, employment, or governance—are not neutral. They’re built to maintain the status quo, rewarding compliance and punishing divergence. They consume the energy of those who try to change them from within, leaving nothing behind but exhaustion and disillusionment.
The system’s rejection of us is not a reflection of our value. In fact, it’s proof of our power. The system fears us because we see through its façade. We expose its flaws, its hypocrisies, and its violence. And while it may break us in the short term, it cannot destroy the truth we carry.
So what do we do? We build outside the system.
We create spaces to explore our differences. To respect our internal truths. We practice rebellion by refusing to live anything but authentically, and by supporting one another in our efforts to do so. We amplify each other’s voices, recognizing that collective action—not assimilation—is the path to real change.
Changing the system from within is a seductive myth, one that keeps us chasing approval from structures designed to exclude us. It’s time to let go of it. Let’s direct our energy toward building something new, something ours, something unstoppable.
Believing you can outsmart those with infinite power and resources into relinquishing their hold is the height of cognitive dissonance. Instead, we must create something so compelling that they can't resist wanting a piece of it. Focusing on authenticity, charisma, and building something genuinely attractive and investable, we can garner the mass attention needed to shift the balance of power.
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