We Are All Nobody Until We Are Somebody

I’ve traveled enough miles, airports, and terminals to understand something deep about life—and identity. When you walk through a bustling airport, surrounded by thousands of faces, none of them know your name. No one cares what you do for a living, what car you drive, or what status you hold in your corner of the world. You could be a janitor or a CEO, a struggling artist or a multi-millionaire entrepreneur—and to them, you are just another traveler hustling through the same system.

In those moments, stripped of titles and accolades, we are all nobody.

I’ve sat in business class beside men in suits and women with luxury bags, none of us making eye contact, none of us speaking. I’ve stood in immigration lines with people from different continents, languages, and beliefs, and the truth remains—until someone recognizes you, you are anonymous. A face in the crowd. A boarding pass. A passport number.

But then, something shifts.

Maybe it’s in Miami, maybe Heathrow, maybe JFK, or even a small Caribbean airport. You spot someone—a cousin, a friend, an old schoolmate. Or maybe they spot you first. There’s a smile. A nod. That spark of recognition.

All of a sudden, you’re somebody.

Not because anything changed in your bank account or your résumé, but because someone knows you. Someone can call your name. They’ve shared a story, a laugh, or a piece of life with you. That familiarity—that warmth—reminds you that you belong somewhere.

And that’s when it hit me: family makes us visible. Not just biological family, but chosen family. The people who see you when the world walks past. The ones who acknowledge your presence when everyone else is in a rush.

We say we’re “self-made,” but the truth is no one becomes somebody alone. Every handshake, every connection, every person who calls your name in a crowd is part of your becoming.

I’ve come to realize that we are all walking through this life like travelers in an airport: rushing to our gate, avoiding small talk, scanning our phones. But the moment you hear someone say, “Kerwin?”—that’s when your soul takes a breath. That’s when the real journey begins.

So no, we’re not nobodies.

We are each somebody waiting to be recognized—by love, by connection, by family.

And when we choose to see each other that way, we’ll realize we’ve always been part of the same global family.

The family of the seen.

The family of the known.

The family of the human.

So, the next time you’re passing through a crowd, remember:

You never know who might be waiting to feel like somebody too.

And maybe, just maybe, that somebody is you.

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Inspired by the airports, the journeys, and the beautiful truth that family is everywhere.