For months–even years now I’ve been trying to understand this idea of invisibility. I recognized it first when I was a child living in two apartments with my mother and my step father, who it seems experienced quite a bit of this himself in regards to my mother. I was only recognized/seen when I was a problem. When I was not a problem I disappeared from the consciousness of people around me, to the point where there would be conversations that would take place as though I simply did not exist in the space. This, I believe, is true of most children. There is even that phrase about being seen and not heard. It rubbed me the wrong way then, for it felt like I was existing merely as a function or prop of the people around me to be trotted out on call like a show dog. I didn’t see myself as crucial or vital in any way to the functioning world around me, and I hastily retreated into my own fantasy worlds where I was vital, because I determined the existence of those worlds.
But what does it mean to be invisible? Imagine for a moment a man who, in his own home, is treated by most people there like he isn’t even there. His partner treats him like he exists, of course, and everyone recognizes him when he is a problem, but in terms of day to day interaction, he isn’t spoken to or regarded by any of the household beyond his partner. Rules that exist when she is in the space are completely disregarded when she is gone but he remains. The only person who even deigns to make eye contact with him is his partner. He struggles to speak directly with anyone beyond this partner, because of how those interactions unfold. They unfold, as one can imagine, in the fashion of someone being forced to do something extremely uncomfortable–someone being forced to recognize someone they’d rather pretend doesn’t exist.
Imagine then the world this man may exist in. Where does he exist? Where is he seen as an individual with something to contribute to the world? By his partner, of course. However, that is mitigated by the fact that in his house he exists purely in her reality, because nobody else in the space treats him in that manner. There are no conversations with him. Everything that needs to be said or done is by proxy through her. He exists there, because she makes him relevant. So where does he exist outside that everyday space?
I believe this is a problem for many people. I use he, because I identify as male, but invisibility is not gender-based. I also understand that being invisible doesn’t mean you are useless or not vital. One can be invisible yet be crucial to the function of everything that happens. In a way that makes it worse, because then you are taken completely for granted–seen only when you withdraw and functions begin to degrade… at which point you are visible and villainized.
I think about this a lot. It keeps me up at night because I am dealing with it in my own way. Moreover, I am struggling with the idea of individual identity, because there is no physical space outside of the classroom in which I exist that I am not a function of someone else. Yet that space–moreso the institution that houses that space–is fraught with such identity dynamics that outside of the classroom I actively try not to be visible. I work against my identity there and wind up that little kid who only exists as himself in virtual spaces.
Consider what that does to a person–to their confidence, to their idea of belonging, to their idea of self. I have. I’m still considering it.