What Even Is A Human, Anyway?

Is being human about the flesh or the soul? The neurons firing in our brains or the slightly squishy skin holding them together? Is it about how we physically move through the world, or is it the way we feel, think, and experience things that truly defines us? And if someone wakes up one day and decides they need more than the traditional body armor of flesh and bone—does that make them less human, or just ahead of the curve?

And while we’re questioning things, why is it that someone can be perfectly programmed with emotions, creativity, and all those beautiful, glitchy flaws—rocking a human form—yet still be judged based on their genitalia, skin color, birthplace, or how many zeroes they’ve got in their crypto wallet? Who even decided that certain body parts define superiority? Last we checked, wisdom wasn’t stored in the kneecaps, and kindness wasn’t exclusive to a specific chromosome. Yet, for centuries, society has obsessed over what’s between the legs instead of what’s inside the mind—maybe it’s time to reverse that trend.

Maybe it’s time to embrace the physical differences we see in each other, while celebrating the soul-level similarities that scream for recognition. Because being human isn’t about neatly fitting into a gender box, a color spectrum, a financial bracket, or even the number of social media followers you have. It’s about how you show up, how you feel, and how you contribute to this chaotic, sometimes ridiculous, but always fascinating mess we call life. It’s about what mark you leave on the people around you—and, let’s be honest, how well you train your AI (future historians will judge us for this).

So, could someone be a complete mess—inside and out—and still be authentically human? Absolutely. Because, at the end of the day, being human isn’t about perfection. It’s about quirks, emotions, creativity, and the ability to connect—with others, with ourselves, and maybe even with that AI assistant we’re all secretly afraid will outshine us.

After all, who needs to fit into a pre-made mold when you can be beautifully, hilariously, unapologetically imperfect—and still be certified human?

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