The Mirrors We Choose

The Mirrors We Choose

We like to think we choose our heroes for their light. We build lists of the people we admire: the creators, the leaders, and the quietly resilient friends, and we treat them like constellations: bright points guiding us through our darker seasons. We see their courage, their eloquence, and their ease, and we think, Yes! That is who I want to become.

But if you look closely enough at the people who pull at your attention, a stranger truth emerges. You are not only drawn to their light. You are drawn to their cracks.

There is a strange moment of clarity when you realize you have not just absorbed their virtues; you have also mirrored their flaws. Their stubbornness. Their overthinking. Their defensiveness. Their chaos disguised as confidence. And somewhere in that recognition is a quiet shock: it is familiar because it is yours.

Just like I did in my room a few minutes ago when I got this clear realization while taking a course on leadership styles, you get to hover between laughter and disbelief at your own list because your admiration for them was never one-dimensional. It reveals as much as it receives.

We often assume we are drawn to people because of their popularity, their visibility, or the fact that they are widely known. But that is a shallow reading of admiration. More often, what pulls us in is understanding and knowing their story, their contradictions, their struggles, and the layers that exist beneath the surface. It is that fullness that creates attachment.

We see this even in figures like Winnie Madikizela-Mandela (Mama Winnie). A woman many remember not only as the “Mother of the Nation" but also as a fierce, uncompromising force in the anti-apartheid struggle. While Nelson Mandela became the global symbol of imprisonment and reconciliation, she carried resistance in the streets, in her defiance, and in her refusal to disappear when the system tried to erase her. She was not a background figure in someone else’s story; she insisted on existing in her own right, even when that visibility came at a cost.

And like many complex figures, she is remembered in full contradiction: admired deeply by many, questioned by others. But that is exactly the point. People we are drawn to are rarely simple. They are layered, imperfect, powerful, and human all at once.

Growth is often mistaken for the pursuit of perfection. But what this realization exposes is simpler and more unsettling. We are not becoming flawless versions of ourselves. We are becoming more honest ones.

You cannot project a shadow without light behind you. To love a flawed hero is to unknowingly give yourself permission to be a flawed human. Greatness and messiness were never opposites. They were always coexisting in the same frame.

The people we admire are not pedestals to climb. They are mirrors we learn to stand in front of. And when you finally look closely, you don’t only see the polished reflection; you see the tired eyes, the messy edges, the contradictions.

Laugh if you must. 
Pause if it stings. 
But DO NOT look away. 
You are in good company

And maybe that is why Mama Winnie remains one of mine. She was undeniably, unapologetically human :)

Always nice talking to you,

Patty :)

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