What is your superpower?
Authenticity.
It took me forever to surface that.
It’s not that I couldn’t come up with any answer when asked; it’s that I couldn’t come up with an answer. Not because I believe I am laden with superpowers, but more so because I see myself as solidly average at lots of things and exceptional at nothing. But the question wasn’t “What are you okay at?” The question was “What are you going to use to save the free world and all of its inhabitants?” The answer to that question felt like it needed more than an 80-20 solution.
I’ve been evaluating, deconstructing, orienting towards what I bring the world that others can not only count on when disaster strikes, but also find genuinely fascinating. What supernatural quality can a mere mortal possess that stands up to mind control, eye lasers, time travel, weather manipulation, supersonic speed, or superhuman strength? Us peons are struggling to save the Universe with banal powers like courage, connection, and communication, so where do I fit in to this fight?
I was under no illusion that I would have the coolest superpower. There’s no way I will be featured on the swag from this movie. I am inherently built to be the lame superhero who’s mask they forget to make for Halloween because she only has one part in the movie doing something silly like holding back the ocean so all of the other superheroes won’t drown while they annihilate the alien invaders. You know, piddly stuff. I’m the solid, dependable, unintentionally comical sidekick superhero who always gets the rest of the crew back to the plane on time before the planet blows up. My costume comes with a GPS watch.

It’s not exciting, I know, but it gets the job done and nobody dies. I feel like that’s something.
That description is apropos of my professional life as well. I am the solid, dependable, unintentionally comical sidekick that makes sure you, the dreamer with the big ideas and inability to use a Google calendar, doesn’t fuck up all the hard work we’ve done to turn said dream in to a reality. You are the one with the cool superpower, over there zinging lightning bolts or becoming invisible or shapeshifting and I’m over here trying to capture an Instagram reel of you doing your thing so we can leverage the free marketing.
I’m also the one who will tell you when you’re being ridiculous. When your superhero outfit is too tight or nobody cares that you can turn your body in to a houseplant. I will not bow at your feet because you can lift up a car, and I will kindly but firmly ask you to put it down because picking up other people’s cars is a crime, and we can be fined (or sued) for that.
Of course, I will also step in front of you to intercept the police officer should they come to arrest you. And I will water the plant when you get stuck in that form because you thought your shapeshifting was a little more advanced than it was. I’ll also pay the $2.99 to Amazon the correct size of your superhero suit here by 4am so tomorrow’s escapades will feature you without a camel toe.
I know what I am and what I am not, and I offer what I have to give.
I also have an infinitesimally low tolerance for bullshit because I believe that I owe you enough respect to tell you the truth, and I ask for the same in return. You need never question if I mean what I say. I do. Period. There is no hidden agenda, no boundary I’m breaking just for you, no secret debt you must repay. When I offer my services, my friendship, my home, my time, my heart…I mean it.
In a recent rambling episode of verbal processing with my best friend, I explained how much I miss Friday nights where the plans come together at 5:48pm and involve the half eaten jar of olives from my fridge, three beers and a random margarita from your garage, and a promise to buy pizza for the kids when the bitching begins. Nobody stops at the store. Nobody feels the need to put on real clothes. Nobody’s children have to shower. Just come as you are.
Literally.
I complained that no matter how blunt I am about the expectations, inevitably, more is always done and what was intended to be about the togetherness becomes about…something else. Her observation?…“Maybe they just don’t trust that you mean what you say.”
I wish you could see my face. I always mean what I say. I don’t always mean the cynicism or frustration or anger that comes out with what I say, but I mean the words. I take great care to make sure I mean the words.
But, she’s right. The reason I’ve worked with the same people over and over again is because they trust me. They know my superpower, and they feel safe because my authenticity allows them to relax. There is no unstated expectation. Sucking at life? I will tell you. Killing the game? I am not blowing smoke up your ass. People who spend most of their days wading through political, professional, and personal landmines deeply appreciate knowing that there is someone holding back the ocean. Someone who will wait until they are safely ashore, release the waters, and then turn around and say “That was dumb. Don’t do that again.”
That’s my girl. That’s me. That’s my superpower.
I’m starting to realize the divide between people who see it as such and those who either mistrust its use or don’t believe its even real. I receive profound joy from being allowed to authentically show up for the people in my life. By “show up”, I don’t mean save you because I don’t actually believe you’re in peril. I’m trying to share the one thing I see in extremely short supply in this world and invite you to rely on it, use it, and count on it.
It upsets me that nobody wants to see me show off my superpower. I feel like the dejected superhero that sulks off to sit under a bridge and pout, but its hard to feel like the one thing you’re good at nobody wants or believes.
I think my friend is right, though. Trust is difficult, especially in current times, and when we are expected to carry on such performative existences, its tough to abandon the competition and show up in yoga pants with a jar of olives. Our learned behavior of being “always on” achieves nothing other than exhaustion, but unless met with an honest if not abrupt invitation to lay down the bullshit, our operant conditioning overrides all attempts at authenticity.
My intention is to cultivate joy with that invitation. Show up just as you are. Apparently, its a rare request these days.
So, as the most boring but sincere of the superpowers, allow me to explain how it works. Please don’t stop by the store. Come knowing that whatever food you bring will be sufficient, and your children cannot jump on my couch but are otherwise welcome to stay as long as they (and you) would like. I am not keeping score. Believe that any compliment I give you is sincere, any criticism meant to support your rise. I do not give false assurances, but I will work to find hope in your situation. I will celebrate your joy even in the midst of my own despair. I will promise only what I can deliver, and I will prioritize the delivery, not the packaging or the pomp and circumstance. You will get me, all of me. The power falls apart the second I try to fake it.
It’s not a complicated superpower. It doesn’t involve astrophysics or science that hasn’t been invented yet. It is also unlikely to save the world, but ironically, it may be just the thing the world needs to save itself.
What is your superpower?
What are you contributing to our collective efforts to destroy evil?
What can your colleagues, friends, and family count on you for?
What is the one thing we don’t know about you that’s likely to save the world?
We are not mere mortals, peons dependent on a subspecies to survive.
We are human. And the knowledge that we all possess inherent superpowers that we’re just waiting to unleash is the most hopeful thing I can possibly imagine. Except, why wait?
Joy is living in to all of who you are, so find a phone booth, shed your suit, and let that cape fly.
Ok - hopefully this doesn't come out too garbled because I listened to this yesterday when it hit my inbox, but haven't been able to come back to comment until now. Also, the heat just kicked up and now I have summertime brain.
ANYway ...
I mostly want to say that authenticity is a completely badass and intensely valuable superpower, as is the trust that you are able to build because of the way you wield that seemingly humble power. Also - being the person who holds back the ocean AND gets the correct size superhero suit on site in the nick of time ... that person may not always be front-and-center on the red carpet, but they are the universally acknowledged unsung hero. We all know they are the ones who truly hold everything together so the rest of us have half a chance at doing whatever it is that we do.
And another thing - just because you are an amazing behind-the-scenes person doesn't mean you aren't also a fabulously creative (and funny!) person in your own right. I love your writing. You always make me smile. You make me feel seen. And you give me hope. Your voice is the voice I want to hear when the chips are down but we all know we have to do the thing anyway.
Lastly, it may not be your thing (I have eclectic reading tastes ...), but your whole superhero metaphor made me think of this really fun series of books by Alexander C. Kane about a character named Andrea Vernon who works at the Corporation for Ultrahuman Protection. Bonus: the audio books are read by Bahni Turpin, one of my absolute favorite narrators.
You can find him here: https://alexanderckane.com/
Authenticity is boring? I don't think so. And you, Jess, are most certainly not boring! Authenticity makes everything else work...! There's more I could write, but quite honestly, there is not a thing I would add to @SuddenlyJamie's insightful and beautifully written comment below. Well done you two!