As Curaçao faces an aging population and a steady outflow of its youth, the question of how to secure a livable and sustainable future for the island becomes more urgent by the day. This is not just a matter of statistics or long-term planning—it demands immediate action. Now is the time for bold thinking and decisive leadership. Our island cannot afford to wait. 

For many young people, the decision to leave Curaçao for the Netherlands is driven by hope—the hope of a better life. They seek opportunity, education, stability, and a higher standard of living. Once abroad, many discover that Europe, with its interconnected nations, offers even broader horizons. Belgium and Germany, for instance, have quietly become second homes to countless Curaçaoans who, over time, build families and choose to stay for good. 

But life in Europe is far from idyllic. Migrants—including those from our island—are increasingly subjected to political backlash, discriminatory policies, and racist rhetoric. In countries such as the Netherlands, Germany, and Belgium, rising tensions over immigration have created a social climate of exclusion. The growing hostility toward non-European communities should concern us all. The future in Europe is uncertain, and for many of our young people, disillusionment is inevitable. 

Meanwhile, back home, Curaçao is losing not only its people but also the cultural glue that once bound our communities together. Gone are the days when neighborhood football clubs like Scherpenheuvel, Jong Holland, Undeba, and Centro Dominguito filled weekends with excitement and pride. These weren’t just sports teams—they were expressions of identity and belonging. 

We remember the vibrant beat bands, the joyful First Communion celebrations that brought entire neighborhoods together, and the crucial role of youth organizations like Jonge Wacht and the Scouting movement, which fostered friendships and built community spirit. Even Queen’s Day was once celebrated with games and cultural activities that united our people. 

Today, that Curaçao is fading fast. Many of the young people who leave the island carry with them little sense of Curaçaoan identity. The island has failed to instill it in them. Our leaders, across successive governments, seem blind to the vital role that neighborhoods play in shaping the lives and values of our youth. 

There is no clear youth policy. Social and community workers have disappeared from our neighborhoods. Conversations about community-based development are rare. Meanwhile, vast areas of land are rapidly being bought up by foreign investors, severing even more ties between our people and their own soil. 

Given this trajectory, it is no surprise that those who leave eventually feel no connection to the island they once called home. They become strangers to their roots. 

We must confront a painful truth: if nothing changes, Curaçao will continue its slide toward poverty, crime, and corruption. We need more than political slogans. We need competent leaders who understand that the community is not a liability, but our greatest asset. 

This is a call to action. 

Let us rebuild the neighborhoods as centers of identity, development, and resilience. Let us invest not just in infrastructure but in people—in our youth, who are the stewards of Curaçao’s future. 

Because when a young person leaves Curaçao with nothing to hold onto, it is not just a personal loss. It is the erosion of a nation’s soul.