Do Blueberries Taste Like Grapes?
"Do blueberries taste like grapes?"
I couldn't make out what the young cashier had said as she scanned the blueberries I was buying. Maybe it was my Portuguese. She spoke quietly and quickly, so I leaned in and asked her to repeat herself.
"Do blueberries taste like grapes?"
It clicked for me right there in that small neighborhood market in northeast Brazil. She wasn't just making conversation. She was asking because she had never eaten a blueberry in her life.
I looked down at the small container sitting on the carousel between us, and then back at her. I saw someone surrounded by items, places, and ways of living she lacked access to, yet saw every day. She rings them up at a register. She watches them on a screen. So many things we take for granted as "ordinary" are actually privileges built on access and opportunity.
When you live in survival mode and doors consistently stay shut, a quiet conditioning takes over. To protect yourself from disappointment, you stop asking. You set the wondering down. You bury the dream so deep you can no longer verbalize it, you barely remember it, because dreaming makes you vulnerable. It is not despair, exactly. It is closer to a quiet agreement to stop asking. A protective apathy sets in.
But that's not what I saw in her.
I’ve talked with this cashier many times. She is curious and perceptive. There is a fire in her. When you see that in someone, especially in circumstances like hers, it is precious, and it is fragile. Like a smoldering ember, given the right conditions, the relationships, exposure, knowledge, responsibility, it becomes a flame. Without those conditions, it risks getting snuffed out. When we see that spark, we must do everything we can to help fan the flame.
Vision.
This comes down to vision.
In our work with DreamRoot in underserved communities around the world, we have learned that you cannot become what you cannot first see. Most of us build our sense of what is possible from the models immediately around us. But if you are called to do something no one in your circle has ever done, those models do not exist locally. You have to look beyond your immediate surroundings.
When you allow yourself to imagine a future beyond your current frame, it changes how you carry yourself. It demands new skills, discipline, and mindsets. Before you even realize it, your capacity expands. What used to be your ceiling becomes your floor.
Underneath that cashier's question about blueberries is the core question driving our work: How do we create the conditions for people to envision more, and then give them a real shot at reaching it?
There is a profound difference between believing your actions shape your outcomes and believing life just happens to you. Researchers call the capacity to aspire a muscle built through practice and exposure. The people with the least access to new rooms, relationships, and experiences often have the least opportunity to flex it.
Yet it rarely takes a massive intervention to shift someone’s horizon. One meaningful relationship or one door opened can do most of the work. Exposure changes lives, communities, and generations.
A few days later, I returned to the store with a container of washed blueberries. Everyone working that shift tried one. There was a mix of hesitation, curiosity, and excitement as they reached for something entirely new.
When they tasted it, their faces gave them away immediately. They did not like them all.
I asked what they disliked about the fruit. While initially reluctant to give negative feedback in a culture that deeply values warmth and politeness, they eventually explained that the blueberries were neither sweet nor juicy enough. It wasn’t what they were expecting. To put it in context, this is coming from a culture that has some of the sweetest desserts in the world, and many even put sugar in their orange juice.
Because they expected grape-like sweetness, reality fell short, registering as a disappointment. When a blueberry does not taste like a grape, it does not just taste different; it reads as wrong. Measuring a new experience against the only standard they knew initially blinded them to what the fruit actually was.
If you are expecting a grape, a blueberry will always fall short. But set that expectation aside, and you can appreciate the fruit on its own terms (even if you still don’t like the taste). It is packed with antioxidants, will not spike your blood sugar, and is versatile in ways grapes are not. A new angle. A different way of seeing the same small fruit. And a world of possibilities opens up.
Even though they didn't enjoy the taste, something shifted. Nobody was wondering anymore. Their world expanded by one blueberry, and they made up their minds based on real experience rather than an unanswered question.
Create the Conditions
Exposure is the mechanism of change. It allows us to test whether the limits we have accepted are real, or simply a byproduct of the rooms we have been standing in. Once the initial shock of unmet expectations subsides, curiosity can take over, we can pick back up the blueberry and see it with fresh eyes, opening the door to new ideas and breakthrough innovations.
This is a story about each of us. The same holds true for all of us: we can't become what we can't envision, and there is so much beauty and life waiting to be discovered and potential ready to be unlocked. But to shift into this, we must change how we think. And to change how we think, we often need to change what is around us—trying new things, shifting environments, meeting new people, and stepping outside the boxes we have grown accustomed to.
Our task is to create conditions where people can step into their full potential through connection, solidarity, and shared opportunity...starting with ourselves. This approach permeates everything we do at DreamRoot, from organizational and leadership development and community capacity-building.
When you encounter a moment that feels too big or out of reach, take it as an invitation. Lean in, get curious, and ask yourself: "Why not?"
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