In her reflections on engaging with young readers across diverse cultures—from Turkey to the Middle East and the UK—author Elif Shafak highlights a poignant observation: the universal, vibrant confidence of childhood versus the dampened spirit of adolescence. This transition suggests that our creative potential is not lost, but rather suppressed by the weight of societal expectations.
Shafak notes that children, regardless of their cultural background, possess an innate sense of "khutbah"—a term she uses to describe a profound, unshakeable confidence. When interacting with six or seven-year-olds, she finds them remarkably bold. If she asks a room full of young children whether there are any "artists," "writers," or "poets" among them, "so many hands go up." At this stage, children possess no doubt; they identify as creators instinctively. She recalls a specific encounter with a young boy named Patrick, who confidently introduced himself as a writer working on his "third novel." This level of self-assurance is a natural state of being, where the child’s identity is intrinsically linked to their creative expression.
However, this landscape shifts dramatically by the time these children reach their teenage years. When Shafak poses the same questions to 16 or 17-year-olds, "rarely any hands would go up." She observes that girls, in particular, often become more "timid" as they age. This is not a biological shift, but a socialized one. Shafak argues that society systematically teaches children to curb their expressions. From the "length of their skirt" to the "intonation of their voice" and "how they laugh," teenagers are constantly warned that they will be "judged and categorized." This constant surveillance forces young people to internalize external scrutiny, which acts as a catalyst for the erosion of their creative spirit.
Shafak describes the creative process as an "inner garden" that must be nurtured. The primary obstacle to maintaining this garden is what she terms the "nagging voice." This voice, which emerges during adolescence, constantly judges our creative impulses, warning us against touching controversial subjects like "sexuality" or experimenting with unconventional styles. Crucially, Shafak emphasizes that this "nagging voice is not our voice." It is an external imposition that we have "internalized" over years of social conditioning.
To preserve our artistry, Shafak offers a vital piece of advice to young authors: we must become aware of this external judgment and consciously "take it out" of our internal monologue. The skills and talents we possessed as children never truly disappear; they are merely covered by layers of fear and social anxiety. To keep the "inner garden alive," we must actively guard our creativity against the pressures of conformity. By remembering the "chutzpah" and the unreserved confidence we held as children, we can reclaim our identity as creators, ensuring that the Patrick-like conviction of our youth remains intact throughout our adult lives. Ultimately, the survival of our creative voice depends on our ability to distinguish our own authentic desires from the judgmental echoes of the society around us.