If you could have any superpower, what would it be?
I have never been able to settle on one power I would like to have, but invisibility has always been a high contender for that position. I can picture myself being invisible and moving through spaces that would otherwise be difficult, such as travelling without having to pay for flights or navigating the struggles of obtaining a visa and even a passport in my context. I would show up at the MET Gala, the Cannes Film Festival, the ‘parliament of humanity’, the Oscars, and other highly exclusive spaces.
I can visualise myself in a room full of celebrities or people with power, having conversations where they treat me like an equal simply because I am in the room. It's that peculiar phenomenon where humans assume someone belongs somewhere merely because it was so hard to be there. ‘Considering how exclusive this place is, surely they must have done something right to be in this space, or maybe they deserve to be here,’ is what someone would think when they saw me, an unrecognisable figure, among them. Then, naturally, after a while, I too would become an accepted person in those spaces and wouldn’t need to rely on my special ability as much. I would probably also do some superhero stuff, but honestly, that would come after I've enjoyed the power a little bit and done some shenanigans.
My obsession with invisibility as a special power has come to me in a very ironic way. It wasn’t a fantasy but a reflection of my lived reality. Ever since I was a child, I always felt unseen; it was as if I had already been given this gift, but it wasn’t something positive. I come from a close-knit nuclear family on my maternal side. This meant many kids were being raised in a semi-communal setup. It was easy to get lost in the crowd, and boy, did I get lost! I was the last child for a while, and after the next generation arrived, I found myself to be the perfect middle child, the bridge between the Millennials and Gen Z.
During my era as a last-born child, all I wanted to do was fit in with my older cousin-siblings, and I fought my way into their circle. Anecdotes from my childhood describe me fighting for a spot among my cousin-sisters; they would push me away, but like a boomerang, I always found my way back. At some point, they gave in, and I was welcomed into the inner circle. I tell jokes about how it felt like hazing before joining a sorority, and I was the lucky pledge who made it. I have no hard feelings about how I found myself in that beautiful sisterhood we now have. We were all just kids, messing around with the youngest in some form of rite of passage, as long as somebody never crossed the line- they never did.
That second wave of kids came in at the perfect time; they connected with me on the things I was drawn to that didn't quite resonate with my older sisters, such as my taste in music and some of my life perspectives. It felt good sometimes to be invisible, as I could move seamlessly across the generations, but often, the issue was not fitting in anywhere. I was always too young or too old from the adults' perspective. This was when I toyed with the idea of finding power in being invisible. I could disappear and be myself without the pressure of being monitored. It gave me a chance to be comfortable with my own company. A gift I am very grateful for to date.
The dark side of this gift was that it could be a curse, especially on a level of neglect. Within the chaos of many kids and many parents, some of my cries for help went unseen, and I didn't get support when I needed it. It's hard to notice that the middle child is going through a rough patch when there's so much happening in life at the same time. I felt displaced, sometimes wondering if there was a way I could just find a platform where my needs, especially emotionally, could be addressed and supported. My sisters saw me and heard me (after they accepted me into the fold), but they were my peers and could not offer the protection and support that comes from adults.