In South Africa, being young often feels like being stuck in a waiting room that never opens. With youth unemployment hovering around 60%, we’ve become a generation blamed for a crisis we didn’t create.
We’re called “entitled,” “lazy,” or “unskilled”—yet few take the time to understand the structural issues that lock us out of the job market. It’s not that we don’t want to work. The truth is, many of us are desperate to. The problem lies in a system that consistently fails to accommodate us.
Let’s start with education. While access to schooling has improved, quality remains a huge issue. Thousands of young people leave school without basic literacy or numeracy skills. Even university graduates struggle to find work in their fields, not because they’re incompetent, but because South Africa’s economy isn’t growing fast enough to absorb them. The disconnect between what we learn and what the market needs is glaring—and government efforts to address this gap often feel too slow, shallow, or politicised. Then there's the myth of experience.
Entry-level jobs now somehow require years of prior work. How is someone supposed to get experience if no one will give them a first chance? Internships often go unpaid, immediately excluding poor youth who can’t afford to work for free. The result? A cycle of exclusion that punishes the very people who are trying the hardest to escape poverty. Another issue is location. Many young South Africans live far from economic centres. Without reliable public transport, job-hunting becomes a costly gamble. Taxis and buses to interviews, printing CVs, paying for data—every step costs money.
For those in townships or rural areas, the odds are even worse. The promise of a “better life for all” rings hollow when opportunities are geographically—and financially—out of reach. Some turn to entrepreneurship, not out of passion but survival. The government loves promoting entrepreneurship as a solution, but it’s not simple. Starting a business requires funding, networks, business knowledge, and stability. And for many, the informal economy is brutal and unregulated.
Hustling on the streets is not a sign of laziness; it’s a sign of resilience in a society that offers too few alternatives. So what’s the way forward? First, the government must take bold steps to stimulate job creation, especially in sectors where youth can play a central role—like green energy, tech, and digital services. But it’s not just about jobs; it’s about decent jobs. We don’t need more short-term EPWP (Expanded Public Works Programme) contracts that expire in six months. We need meaningful employment that offers growth, dignity, and fair pay. Secondly, the private sector must rethink how it engages with young talent. Employers should stop gatekeeping opportunities with unrealistic requirements. Give us internships, mentorship, and graduate programmes that are accessible and paid. Take a chance on youth—you might be surprised at what we can do when someone believes in us.
Education reform is also crucial. Our school and university curricula must align with the future of work. Digital literacy, critical thinking, and practical skills should be standard, not optional. TVET colleges, often overlooked, should be adequately funded and promoted as legitimate paths to success, not second-tier options. And lastly, young people must be brought into the policy conversation. We are not just statistics—we are citizens. Involve us in shaping the policies that impact our lives. Youth desks and token consultations are not enough. We need seats at the table, not just on the sidelines. Youth unemployment is not a youth problem—it’s a national crisis. Blaming us won’t fix it. Dismissing us won’t solve it. What will? Investment, innovation, and inclusion.
We’re not lazy. We’re not entitled. We’re not waiting for handouts. We’re waiting for South Africa to finally see us—not as a burden, but as the future.
* Mayalo is an independent writer, analyst, and commentator
** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media