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Alterity

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I looked at the other and saw an abyss. But then, I looked again. There was something there that called to me, something that belonged to me without my knowing. What was it? Alterity. That strange word that, in the end, only means: you are not alone.

The other has always been here. At the street corner, in the reflection of a window, in the glance that meets yours for a fleeting moment before vanishing. The other is the unknown that unsettles you, but also the child within you that once needed comfort. You think you are you because you feel your skin, but what if your self is far greater than you imagine?

Because, you see, without the other, you do not exist. Your voice is only heard because someone listens. Your gestures have meaning only because they are seen. Your story matters because it can be told — and every story needs someone to hear it. Alterity is not just about respecting the other; it is about realising that they shape you.

The trouble is, we think of ourselves as islands. But if we are islands, then the sea that separates us also connects us. Have you noticed that what irritates you in others often mirrors something within yourself? That what you admire in them might be a part of you that has yet to awaken? The other is not just a stranger — they are a reflection. And reflections reveal what we are not always ready to see.

Life is this constant play of mirrors. Does another’s pain ache within you? Then you feel. Does another’s joy warm you? Then you are alive. There is an invisible thread that stitches us together, and when pulled, everything stirs.

Alterity is the courage to open yourself, to step beyond your own being and into the world. It is when you stop shielding yourself so much and suddenly realise: the other is also me.
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