If you can see me through the lines of this article, you must know, dear reader that my skin is brown. Perhaps it is not so now, but I was born into a world of discrimination the moment my parents realized I was a Mexican boy. Even though I am sitting utterly naked, invisible, and miserable in an office cubicle, even though my blood can only stain the carpet like a Crayola invisible marker, my skin is brown, and I must continually remind myself of that fact.

It all began when I started looking for a job to pay off my college debt. I would walk in for an interview and I would be turned down before even opening my mouth. I had had enough of it, so I decided to bypass white privilege by becoming truly invisible.

Luckily, I am a STEM major, and modern science has come far enough to allow me to concoct a potion in my lab that would make me invisible. That’s just something I can do as a graduate student from UCSB. So I went ahead and turned myself invisible.

I noticed an immediate change in the hunt for a job. I would walk into an interview in a formal suit and tie, hand the interviewer my resume and see them watch in astonishment as they looked right through me.

“What’s your race?” they would ask.

“Oh I belong to the human race,” I would reply.

It worked far better than I could ever have hoped for. I was hired on the spot everywhere I went. I didn’t have to turn down jobs anywhere, and I kept all my pay at the 10+ jobs I had because they never knew if I was there or not. No one cared about me showing up naked to work, just as long as I wasn’t a person of color.

I was the star of the show. The guys always invited me to the bar for drinks and I would unbutton my shirt to show them the beer going down the hatch. It was very homoerotic. Guys love blowjobs when they don’t have to see who’s giving them. Women loved the mystery of finding out how big I was. Once, but only once, I allowed myself to be covered in body paint. The couple who had me over that night made the most unflattering sex tape, and I’m still not over it. Now being invisible has become more of a chore than a privilege.

Why not concoct a potion to reverse it, you ask? Well modern science just hasn’t come that far yet. Besides, the pay is good and I’m using it to begin reparations for every disenfranchised minority on earth. But it’s a lonely life. So lonely. For now I am stuck in 40+ dead-end jobs, trying to remember my roots. It’s a hard life, and an invisible man like me just has to make the most of it.