We like to think we live in a world of opportunity—where hard work pays off and anyone can rise. When someone breaks through a glass ceiling, they do it for us all. Sometimes. 

Consider This

In 16th-century Japan, Toyotomi Hideyoshi rose from peasant origins to become the country’s most powerful ruler. Through sheer skill and strategic genius, he unified a fractured land. But once he reached the top, he locked the door behind him.

Hideyoshi banned Christianity, fearing divided loyalties. He froze social mobility—prohibiting peasants from becoming samurai and samurai from trading or farming. He consolidated power by ensuring that no one else could follow his path.

This is the story of today as well. For much of the 20th century in America, upward mobility was the rule, not the exception. But not anymore. It used to be that American children out-earned their parents while today, only half do. Acceptance rates at elite universities have plummeted. In 2000, Harvard admitted 10% of applicants; today, it’s closer to 3%.  Meanwhile, income and residential segregation have surged. Wealthier families cluster in exclusive enclaves—using real estate, zoning, and school quality to ensure their advantage is protected.

Putting It into Play

We all have doors we’ve walked through, because someone made space, gave us a shot, or took a risk on us. Once we’re in, do we keep that door closed, or open the door a little wider?

It’s tempting to protect what we’ve gained. And there’s a reason for that. But hoarding opportunities is dangerous. It breeds instability. History shows us that when inequality grows too great, systems unravel. 

It’s more sustainable to widen the circle. Make room. Share access. You don’t have to hold the door for everyone. But hold it for someone.