You’d have to be stupid to believe we’re all equal on this Earth.

I used to believe it. They told me so...at school, in the media, in speeches, in humanist slogans. But all it took was stepping back. Living. Observing. And I saw it: that word..."equality"...describes nothing real.

When I was younger, I worked on the beach. Under the sun, I helped, I served, I watched. Tourists came. Often Europeans. They spoke of escape, freedom, adventure. They came for a few days, dropped their bags, soaked in the country, the warmth, the people. Then they left.

I stayed. Curious. Not unhappy. But confused.

Why can they travel so freely?

Why does a single piece of paper...a passport...give some the right to explore the world, while others must risk their lives just to dream of a border?

I was lucky. I made my way. I worked, I moved forward, I figured things out. But I’d be lying if I said I did it alone. I had a base. A foundation. A father who passed things on. Encounters that opened doors. A brain wired to seek. And above all: circumstances.

Not everyone has that. And it’s not about merit. It’s about access.

No, we’re not equal. We may have the same rights written somewhere on paper. But in practice, opportunities don’t fall equally.

It’s like beauty. I use this example because it’s simple. Two brothers. Two sisters. One will be seen as “beautiful” by society. The other won’t. Not by choice. Just by genetic luck.

It’s the same with privilege. You’re born in one place, you draw a card. That card either opens doors or locks them...before you even know what doors are.

Today I see it everywhere online. Europeans setting off on challenges...cycling across Africa, riding a 125cc motorbike from Morocco to Senegal. They want discomfort. They want adventure. And I get it. I respect it.

But I ask myself: could a kid from Senegal do the same in Europe? Just arrive, no visa, no papers, and say: “I’m doing a challenge. I want to discover. I want to live something.”

We both know the answer. And it’s brutal.

So no, I’m no longer trying to make this system fair. It isn’t. And it won’t be, as long as we keep dressing it up in beautiful words.

I’d rather seek power.

Not the kind that dominates. The kind that frees.

To build. To create. To leave something behind...so my kids, or someone else’s, don’t have to feel what I’ve felt. At the bottom. Out of place. Questioned or ignored.

This isn’t a complaint. It’s clarity. A quiet revolt.

I don’t want everyone to start equal. I want us to stop pretending it’s already the case.

And from there, build something else.

Living an adventure shouldn’t be a luxury. It should be a human right.

Not because everyone wants to be an influencer or check off a bucket list. But because movement, discovery, and friction shape who we are.

What we call “privilege” is often just access...to fresh air, a new street, a different voice, a different rhythm.

If you were born on the right side, don’t feel guilty. Just be aware.

And if you were born on the wrong side, don’t lower your head. Observe. Learn. Then build something strong enough to become a bridge for others.

Because that’s real power: not hoarding, but passing it on.