We are living in a time with a lot of uncertainty, but it’s often in moments like these that we find strength or qualities we didn’t know we had. Or maybe you’ve had a superpower since childhood, or you found one in a new passion.
The Department of Journalism and the Writing Professions invited students to write personal essays about their superpower, and how it has affected their lives in a profound way. D&S is publishing a selection of the winners from the Spring ’25 fifth annual essay contest.
First place: Jaslyn Maan
A voice has been guiding me for as long as I can remember. I called him The Watchman, named after the stories my mom used to tell me to help me fall asleep. “He strolls the neighborhood at night and looks out for any kids that might be lost. But you need to go to sleep now, or he won’t be on your side.” I thought The Watchman was the universe’s gift to me, a superpower I was born with. Unfortunately, it was something else entirely.
Second place: Mara Louise Emma Langedijk
When I was a child, I used to think superpowers encompassed flying, invisibility, or having the strength to lift cars over your head with just a single finger. These were the kinds of superpowers that may have looked appealing in comic books and blockbusters. But over the years, I’ve come to realize that the power I carry is quieter instead, softer, just like how I consider myself as a person. Perhaps, it’s also more needed than any type of action on a movie screen.
Third place: Meola Shaka
Of course, I remember. The roses were not entirely white. A pale yellow covered the bottom of the petals and blended into that faint eggshell color. They covered the entirety of my grandparents’ backyard, dripping over the fence and falling ever so slightly over the metal door. I remember the feel of my grandmother’s touch. The smell of the blue Nivea cream and how her rings squeezed her fingers. They’re much looser on me now. I remember the coarse white hair on my grandpa’s beard that scratched my little cheeks at every kiss. The sound of his watch filled the room every time we went quiet. It stopped working now, but the leather still smells the same.
Honorable mention: Talla Hamouche
I hiked toward the border south of the Litani River, my feet dusted in red earth. Strange men in blue vests stood tall against a backdrop of tanks and uniforms that didn’t belong to us. The blue vests felt like a theatrical shield, one I’d seen fail to protect the older men in my family. But still, I made eye contact, furrowed my brows, let out a breath, and turned back around. As I walked downhill, a quiet smile crept across my face. Whenever I left the porch and moved closer to the fences, my acts of confrontation felt like small victories.
Honorable mention: Angie Molina
I remember my life not in fragments or vague impressions but in scenes, dialogue, textures, and color. When I was barely two, my mother was pregnant with my little brother. I remember the day relatives came over to see her. I was wearing a yellow matching dress and skirt, playing with my favorite doll, when someone said, laughing, “Está muy grande ya.” My mom was in a pink shirt and jeans, sitting on the couch, glowing. I remember the rough texture of the sofa against my legs, the way sunlight poured through the window, and the smell of the house. Years later, I found a printed photo of that moment, but I didn’t need it. I already had it archived in my head, filed away like a memory I could always walk back into.
Honorable Mention: Jose Hernandez
I love my mother, but bias aside I have to be candid and recognize that she is not special. She does not hold immense wealth; she is not famous nor is she powerful. She never had a career, she never went to college, she didn’t even finish high school. And no, she does not have a secret hidden talent. Honestly and respectfully, my mother does not know much. She is not tech savvy; she is not in tune with the political or economic state of the world. Seeing confused, worried and shocked faces as I basically bad mouth my mother is inevitable. I know she would be furious as well. However, although I am making it out to seem as if she has nothing to offer, she gave me and my siblings everything, even when she had nothing.