Owning My Visibility

A microcosm of my visibility struggles

I remember the first time my sense of self shifted. It happened in school, in a way that might seem small to others but changed everything for me.

As a child, I believed my eyes were my best feature. They held intensity, emotion, a quiet power. I knew people noticed them. I knew they made me beautiful.

Then, in the 8th standard, I got glasses.

At first, I thought it was temporary—a passing inconvenience. But as the days turned into months and then years, I realized something unsettling. The moment I put on those glasses,

I stopped seeing myself the same way.

The mirror reflected a different version of me—one I wasn’t sure how to embrace.

My best feature, the part of me that once held power, now felt hidden. Muted.

And so, without realizing it, I began dimming myself in other ways, too.

I did everything I could to restore my eyesight. I followed home remedies that our culture believes can strengthen vision—eating soaked almonds every morning, drinking carrot juice religiously, massaging my eyes with oil, even trying ayurvedic techniques that promised to bring my sight back to normal.

For almost twenty years, I carried an unconscious belief: I am beautiful, but only if I can restore this part of me. I wasn’t trying to erase the change—I was trying to reclaim what I thought I had lost.

And then years later, I finally decided to take a more permanent step. I got LASIK surgery.

For almost ten years, I lived without glasses. It felt like freedom, like a return to my original self. I could finally see clearly without needing anything external. I had won. Or so I thought.

But then, slowly, my eyesight began to weaken again.

One day, I found myself back at the eye clinic, picking out frames, feeling an old resistance creep back in. How did I end up here again?

At first, I resisted. It felt unfair. Hadn’t I already fought this battle? Hadn’t I done everything to "fix" it? But something was different this time.

This time, I didn't see it as losing something.

This time, I saw it as a return—not to an old version of myself, but to a new understanding.

I realized that my beauty was never about whether I wore glasses or not. My power had never left me—it was something I carried all along, even in the moments I doubted it.

Stepping Into the Light

I’ve always had the ability to own the room. I’ve felt it—the way people gravitate toward me, the way my presence commands attention without effort. And yet, for years, I chose to stay humble, to remain somewhat hidden.

Why?

For many people who naturally exude presence, visibility can feel like both a gift and a burden. Standing out means being seen—not just for your strengths, but for your uncertainties, your humanness. And that level of exposure can feel unsettling.

Visibility isn’t just about physical presence—it’s about being seen for everything you are. And when you have a strong presence but hold back, it’s often because:

You’re used to being the observer, not the observed. You see everything, you know you can take the lead, but you’ve trained yourself to hold back.

You fear being too much. Powerful people often tone themselves down to make others comfortable.

You’ve learned to equate humility with invisibility. But humility and presence aren’t opposites—you can be both magnetic and grounded.

You’ve been comfortable in the shadows. Being unseen can sometimes feel safer than being truly witnessed.

Stepping into full visibility - on my terms

Now that I’m ready to embrace my visibility, the question is: What does that look like?

 1. Embodying my power consciously - I’m choosing to walk into spaces with intention—not just letting my energy happen, but owning it fully. Standing tall. Speaking with conviction.

2. Letting go of the "too much" fear - I am not too much. The right people will be drawn to me because of my presence, not in spite of it. The wrong people were never meant for my space anyway.

 3. Challenging the urge to shrink - When I notice myself pulling back, I ask: Am I doing this because I want to, or because I’m afraid of being seen? If it’s fear, I lean in instead.

 4. Celebrating my natural magnetism - That strong pull I have? It’s not a burden—it’s a gift. Instead of managing it, I am choosing to use it. Whether it’s in personal connections, work, or leadership, my presence is a tool, not a liability.

 5. Practicing being seen in new ways - Speaking up in situations where I’d normally stay quiet. Owning my opinions unapologetically. Showing up in spaces that once felt intimidating. The more I expand my comfort zone, the more natural visibility becomes.

What if the visibility I’ve avoided isn’t just something to accept—but something to embrace with joy?

What if I was never meant to be in the background? What if stepping forward is my natural state?

I no longer want to resist my presence.