Opinion article by Vusumzi Gqalane, Transition Academic Adviser, Centre for Teaching and Learning, University of the Free State

What does it mean to survive in a country that once promised freedom? For us, the young people of South Africa, this question is no longer rhetorical – it is a daily confrontation with a reality shaped by economic uncertainty, political instability, and a zero sense of opportunity. And yet, the act of waking up, showing up, and holding on has become a form of resistance, not because it is easy, but because of the hope that change can happen at the very table where decisions about our future are made.

The term kuzolunga loosely translates to ‘it will be okay.’ It is often used in our everyday language as a phrase of comfort whispered in times of distress. However, for today's youth, kuzolunga has become more challenging. It is no longer mere reassurance; it has evolved into a silent battle cry, demonstrating a firm conviction that, despite everything, we remain standing with hope and resilience. 

It was in this very month, 49 years ago, that thousands of schoolchildren in Soweto stood up in defiance, taking to the picket lines to protest the injustice of Bantu education and institutionalised racism. It was at that moment that the world witnessed young South Africans not merely as victims of apartheid, but as a force to be reckoned with – symbolic agents of change, brave enough to challenge a brutal system head-on. The frustration, anger, and pain they carried became a source of power in shaping South Africa’s political discourse, placing young people at the heart of the country’s liberation struggle. That legacy still lives on today, as student activism continues to influence South Africa’s political landscape.

Today, almost fifty years later, we can all agree that the battlefield has changed – but the struggle continues. The spirit of resistance remains, though it now takes different forms. It is the student who perseveres despite hunger. It is the graduate who sends out hundreds of CVs. It is in the activist, the artist, the entrepreneur, the hustler. Young people in South Africa are no longer dodging apartheid bullets; instead, they are navigating an exclusionary economic system that continues to marginalise both the educated and the uneducated. They are drowning in an ocean of unemployment, burdened by an under-resourced education system, and confronted daily with mental health challenges in a society still tormented by deep inequalities. In South Africa, survival has been characterised as protest rather than passivity.  It is a bold, often silent statement: I am here.  I am noteworthy.  I will not be erased.  Survival has become a powerful symbol of young people's courage and perseverance in post-apartheid South Africa, where the promises of freedom have yet to be completely realised.

The current struggle: survival as resistance

I’m not going to go into detail about the 1972 Soweto Uprising – not out of disrespect, as we will always be indebted to that generation, but because the history has been discussed many times before. Yet, nothing has been done to fully honour those who fought to change the status quo. We are all aware of that generation's bravery, sacrifices, and struggle for their dreams and ours. Perhaps it is high time that we focus more on the pressing issues we face today and how to overcome them. For instance, according to Statistics South Africa, the youth unemployment rate is 62,4% in 2025, significantly higher than before. At the same time, the government is losing ground in its efforts to combat gender-based violence. Mental health remains severely underfunded, receiving only 5% of the national health-care budget. All of this unfolds amid a devastating student debt crisis, with many students in our higher education institutions struggling to afford both tuition and living expenses. These challenges are not isolated – they are symptoms of deeper systemic failures. 

Amid the many challenges that young people face, they are expected to endure each day, holding on to the hope that things will eventually improve. Survival, in this context, has become a form of resilience and strength. Surviving these conditions is not a sign of inability or weakness; rather, it is a daily affirmation of power, a kind of protest and commitment.  In the face of institutional neglect, any young person who continues to study, dream, organise, and speak out bravely challenges a system that frequently sees them as invisible.  Resilience in the face of adversity requires courage.  It takes courage to hope, prepare, and build a future while dealing with debt, trauma, and uncertainty.  That persistence is not passive; rather, it is a revolutionary act. But a pressing question remains: how much longer are we expected to merely survive and keep hoping for a better future amid a directionless government? How long must young people remain excluded from decision-making spaces? How long must they continue to fight against systemic ageism? And how long will young people – especially women – be sidelined and deprioritised? Until when? And are we to blame? 

I believe that South African youth are actively going against the existing quo in significant and growing ways.  While their opposition may not always be as visible and forceful as that of the 1976 generation, it is no less significant or powerful.  Today's young may not necessarily take to the streets in huge numbers, but their defiance is visible in everyday actions of solidarity and resistance. Social media has evolved into a powerful tool for activism, used to raise awareness, educate, and organise people around crucial topics. From the streets of Braamfontein to spoken word and musical performances on university campuses, youth continue to voice their frustrations and aspirations. Whether it is the legacy of movements such as #FeesMustFall and #RhodesMustFall or grassroots activism in communities, youth are finding new platforms and strategies to advocate for justice. In doing so, the youth are not only rewriting their narratives but also redefining what resistance means in modern South Africa.

A good friend of mine, Sibongiseni, recently introduced me to an Amapiano song titled Kuzolunga by Supta, featuring Thalitha and Bongane Sax. Part of the lyrics go: "Qiniseka ungalahli ithemba, konke kuzolunga, Yonk’ into inexesha layo kuzojika, Qhubeka." Simply translated: "Make sure not to lose hope, everything will be okay. Everything has its time, and things will turn around. Keep going.” These lines perfectly capture an unwavering determination of South African youth – hope not as ignorance, but as agitation. Kuzolunga is more than just a tune; it is a courageous act of protest disguised as music, a subtle struggle against despair, and an anthem of survival in the face of suffering. In a country where young people are constantly confronted with the structural violence of unemployment, injustice, and systemic exclusion, continuing to hope, dream, and go is more than simply survival; it is resistance. It is revolutionary.

In celebration of 16 June, government must take action to protect, support, and create opportunities for young people to thrive rather than simply survive. Solidarity between generations is a moral obligation, not an optional characteristic. The older generation must convey more than simply stories; they must also create platforms, trust, and support.