Seeing Possibility: How Visibility Shapes Who We Become
You can't be what you can't see. — Sally Ride
Why Visibility Matters
Sally Ride’s line distills a basic truth about aspiration: our ambitions are bounded by what our minds can plausibly imagine. When examples are absent, paths feel hypothetical; when examples appear, they feel achievable. Social horizons widen as we witness people like us doing the thing we thought was out of reach. Thus, visibility does more than inform—it licenses hope, reduces uncertainty, and converts distant goals into actionable plans. In this way, the simple act of seeing rearranges the architecture of motivation, inviting new identities to the table and making the extraordinary look ordinary enough to try.
Trailblazers and Catalysts
History shows how a single figure can reframe possibility. When Sally Ride flew in 1983, millions of girls suddenly saw an astronaut who shared their gender; later, her organization, Sally Ride Science (founded 2001), built that spark into programs for diverse students. Meanwhile, Nichelle Nichols’s role as Lt. Uhura on Star Trek (1966) and her later NASA recruiting campaign helped bring women and minorities into the astronaut corps; Mae Jemison has often cited Uhura’s influence before becoming the first Black woman in space (1992). Cultural breakthroughs like Hidden Figures (2016) further filled in missing chapters, making invisible pioneers—Katherine Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan, Mary Jackson—visible to classrooms worldwide. Such stories don’t merely inspire; they normalize a broader map of who belongs in the cockpit, the lab, or the corner office.
How Psychology Makes It Work
Visibility shapes identity through well-studied mechanisms. Markus and Nurius’s “possible selves” theory (1986) shows that vivid images of who we might become guide effort and persistence. Bandura’s social learning and self-efficacy research (1977–1997) explains how observing competent models boosts the belief that “people like me” can succeed, which then improves performance. Moreover, Dasgupta’s stereotype inoculation model (2011) finds that exposure to ingroup experts buffers individuals from negative stereotypes, sustaining motivation in challenging domains. Even the drag of stereotype threat (Steele and Aronson, 1995) eases when role models signal belonging. Altogether, the mind converts visibility into expectancy: when examples resemble us and succeed, our projected self narrows the gap between “them” and “me,” making effort feel worthwhile rather than futile.
Proof from Policy and Classrooms
Empirical studies show visibility moves outcomes, not just attitudes. Quotas for women leaders in Indian village councils raised girls’ aspirations and education (Beaman et al., 2012). Female students taught by female STEM professors were more likely to persist and perform better (Carrell, Page, and West, 2010). Seeing successful female alumni increased women’s interest in economics and competitive environments (Porter and Serra, 2020). Even children’s mental pictures have shifted: the classic Draw-A-Scientist Test, once dominated by men (Chambers, 1983), now shows a rising share of girls drawing women scientists (Miller et al., 2018). These findings, taken together, indicate that representation isn’t window dressing; it tangibly alters self-concept, course choices, and career trajectories. In practice, visibility functions as an input to opportunity.
Media’s Multiplying Effect
Beyond classrooms, stories and screens scale what a single mentor cannot. The Geena Davis Institute’s mantra—“If she can see it, she can be it”—captures how repeated exposure builds a mental catalog of possibilities; their reports find that on-screen representation influences career interest in fields from STEM to leadership. Popular narratives such as Hidden Figures (2016) or characters like Shuri in Black Panther (2018) supply culturally resonant exemplars that teachers can integrate into lessons and that families can discuss at home. Crucially, media also broadens whose achievements count as “normal,” which reduces the social cost of trying. In this way, culture amplifies the effect of individual role models, creating ambient evidence that talent is distributed widely—even if opportunity has not yet caught up.
Limits and Caveats
Visibility is necessary but not sufficient. Without scholarships, fair hiring, safe workplaces, and childcare, seeing a role model can inspire frustration rather than progress. Tokenism can also backfire if a lone figure is overexposed while systems stay unchanged; representation must be accompanied by redistribution of access. Intersectionality matters as well: a role model may be visible on one dimension yet invisible on others (Crenshaw, 1989), leaving some groups still unseen. Furthermore, overcelebrating exceptional trailblazers can imply that only the extraordinary belong. Therefore, visibility should be plural, local, and routine—more gallery than pedestal—so that many pathways and identities appear plausible, not just a heroic few.
From Slogan to Action
Translating Ride’s insight into practice begins early and continues often: invite diverse professionals into classrooms; fund near-peer mentoring so students meet someone one or two steps ahead; redesign spaces and syllabi to signal belonging (Cheryan et al., 2013); and audit imagery, websites, and case studies so default examples reflect real demographics. Organizations can report role-model ratios, rotate public-facing spokespeople, and tie leadership evaluations to sponsorship outcomes. Policymakers can expand paid internships and transparent hiring to convert inspiration into entry points. Finally, tell the stories behind the faces—process, setbacks, community—so that what students “see” is not only who to be, but how to become it. With visibility aligned to opportunity, the imaginable becomes doable.