I have always believed that the most impeccable concept by whoever created the world is time. Time reveals the evolution of man from semen to a human, to a child, to an adult and till the human kisses death. It also reveals how such a human transforms from one being to another. It is why we reevaluate our ideologies; it is why we eventually transform into someone we couldn’t imagine ourselves to be and drop and adopt new values.
However, as much as I believe in evolution that happens through time, some things are detachable once you become it. While we forgive and forget, some things are simply unforgettable because they stick. Last week, Ezra Olubi’s old tweets resurfaced on X, formerly Twitter, and they revealed an uncompelling side of a brilliant tech founder who is unbelievably liquid. The tweets, so abhorrent to quote, suggest Ezra Olubi was (or is, this is the part we don’t know yet) a pedophile and a creep. He was in his 20s when he made the tweets, and no matter how much evolution happens, those tweets are thoughts that should never happen to any human, whether they are 5, 10 or 15 years of age.
What frightens us about Ezra’s resurfaced tweets is not only the content, but the tension they expose in the myth we sometimes tell about growth, character-wise. We rely on the assumption that the past can be outgrown, that the ugliness we once flirted with can be washed away by enough years, money or success (well, in this context, you could also add enough money and success). But there are certain distortions of the mind that cannot be attributed to youthful ignorance. They are not “phases.” They are revelations that are unsettling and permanent in their own way. A murderer will forever be a murderer, no matter how much devotion they give to God. It is the choice of whoever chooses to look away or see them beyond that. Some of their earlier instincts were not accidents of age, but reflections of a self they are still capable of becoming. Time can transform us, yes. But it can also expose us.
The general challenge is to question ourselves and review who we were. If evolution is real—and I believe it is—what then determines the things we outgrow and those that outlast us? How much of ourselves is a matter of choice, and how much is simply residue? Can time, miraculous as it is, save us from everything we once were?
When people say “that was my past” or “I was young,” We should often wonder what they expect that distance to do. If Ezra can articulate harm with that much clarity—if you can make jokes at the expense of children, or women, or anyone powerless—doesn’t that reveal something about who you were at the time? And if it reveals anything at all, then why is our first instinct always to minimise it under the umbrella of youth? We speak of youthful exuberance as though it were harmless energy, but in the mouths of men, it too often takes the shape of violence or the rehearsal of it. The language may be online, but the thinking that produced it comes from somewhere inside.
I still believe people can change. Some artists have. They move from a young, vulnerable artist singing their way into the world to people who have lived more, seen more, and become more. They have probably achieved more than they aimed to. Time can do that to a person. But I also know that not everything dissolves into inexistence just because we grow. They are simply who we are, and time, despite its power, can change that.
There is something unsettling about the way the past insists on remaining present. We often talk about growth as if it were a certain, linear progression. However, time does not function as a kind or generous archivist. It doesn’t curate our memories to showcase only our improvements while hiding our failures. Instead, it retains everything, including the versions of ourselves we now reject, and even the thoughts we hope no longer define us. When those older selves resurface unexpectedly, we are reminded that evolution is neither guaranteed nor an erasure of the past.
By the way, is there a difference between evolution and growth? When we say time will tell, what does it tell?
