Like me as a teen - and like many teenagers now - my characters

When Sabaa Tahir declared, “Like me as a teen—and like many teenagers now—my characters are at a peculiar crossroads in their lives. They desperately seek freedom. But at the same time, they are constantly thwarted,” she spoke not only of her own youth or of her fictional creations, but of the eternal condition of adolescence itself. For the teen years are the threshold of life: one foot in the protected circle of childhood, the other reaching toward the boundless world of adulthood. It is a season of longing and frustration, of yearning to fly while still being bound by invisible chains.

The origin of this truth lies in the timeless tension between desire and restraint. Tahir herself, as she admits, felt this conflict: the hunger to step beyond the walls that confined her, and the sting of forces—cultural, parental, societal—that denied her that chance. In her writing, she gives this struggle to her characters, allowing them to embody the plight of all youth who stand at the gates of possibility, only to be reminded of the weight of expectation and the limits of power. This struggle is not unique to one time or place—it is written into the very fabric of the human journey from innocence to independence.

History too bears witness to this tension. Consider the young Alexander the Great, trained by Aristotle, restless under the authority of his father Philip. He longed for command, for conquest, for the taste of destiny. Yet until the death of his father, he remained thwarted, his freedom chained by circumstance. Or think of Joan of Arc, still a teenager when she heard her calling, yearning to lead and to free her people. She too was met with doubt, suspicion, and denial. But in both stories, we see the same truth Tahir names: youth is both the fire of freedom and the reality of restraint.

The deeper meaning of her words is that freedom is rarely given without struggle. For the young, freedom is not simply the absence of rules—it is the right to dream one’s own dream and walk one’s own path. And yet, the world is not quick to yield this right. Family expectations, cultural norms, systemic injustices, and the sheer weight of inexperience all stand in the way. To be a teen, then, is to live in the friction between who you are told to be and who you believe you might become.

But Tahir’s wisdom is also one of hope. For though her characters are thwarted, they are not broken. The very act of striving, of pushing against the chains, shapes them into who they are meant to be. This is the paradox of adolescence: that the struggle against limits becomes the forge of identity. Without resistance, there is no strength; without denial, there is no persistence; without frustration, there is no longing strong enough to carry one through the trials of life.

The lesson, then, is clear: embrace the tension of being thwarted, for it is the training ground of freedom. Do not despair when doors are closed or when your wings are clipped, for every resistance builds resilience. The yearning you feel is not wasted—it is preparing you to seize the moment when the chains at last break. Like Tahir’s characters, you may find yourself caught between desire and denial, but within that conflict lies the shaping of your truest self.

Practical wisdom follows. If you are young, do not turn away from the struggle—lean into it. Write, speak, create, resist, and let your frustration give birth to vision. If you are older, and remember your own thwarted youth, guide the young not by silencing them but by helping them find strength within the struggle. And if you are a creator, give voice to these battles in your art, for in doing so you remind the next generation that they are not alone at the crossroads.

Thus, Sabaa Tahir’s words rise beyond her own story. They become a teaching for all ages: that the teen years are not only a passage but a crucible, where freedom is glimpsed but not yet grasped. And so we must tell the young—do not lose heart. For though you are thwarted now, the struggle is not your enemy. It is your initiation into the freedom you will one day claim.