A New Word. A New World.

Learning a new vocabulary, and a better way of looking at the people around us.

sonder [SON-der]. noun

The feeling one has on realizing that every other individual one sees has a life as full and real as one’s own, in which they are the central character and others, including oneself, have secondary or insignificant roles.

“In a state of sonder, each of us is at once a hero, a supporting cast member, and an extra in overlapping stories.”

I learned this word recently from one of my students. It was coined by a writer named John Koenig in 2012 and later included in his Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. ‘Sonder’ has not yet made it into Merriam-Webster, but I hope it will one day. More importantly, I hope it enters our broader consciousness as a society, and fast. 

Seeing another person as the main character in their own story, and understanding that we are only extras in their personal narrative, does not come naturally in 2025 America. Tech billionaires, musing on the likelihood that we are all living in a vast simulation, casually refer to the rest of us as “NPCs” (non-playable characters, in video game parlance). To the narcissist, there is no story other than their own. In a culture saturated with TikTokers, online influencers and egomaniacal politicians, it seems like most of the dominant voices in our public discourse are deeply narcissistic.   

Most of the young people I work with are entering a highly self-involved phase of their lives when I encounter them; 17 years old, bearing the weight of family expectations and intense self-scrutiny, focused on writing essays about themselves that will help get them into college. Let me be clear: these kids are not narcissists, or even particularly self-absorbed. They are compelled by circumstance -- and by my coaching -- to view themselves as the star of their own life story, if only for the duration of 650 words. Some take to it naturally, others reluctantly, if at all. Introspection and reflection are vital to powerful essays; shifting the focus to oneself is merely the ante to play that game.    

When I asked the student who taught me the word ‘sonder’ to tell me about themself, they told me mostly about other people; people whom the student had helped, or whom they had seen clearly enough to recognize the pain and need under the surface. This student’s stories said more about their core values of empathy and kindness than almost any that I had heard before. They possessed a clarity of vision regarding other people that caught me off guard. The student’s parents are from the Middle East, and they taught their child these values by sharing the traditions of deep hospitality and generosity native to their culture. As the student grew into a fuller understanding of these rituals, these ideas found expression in altruism and a profoundly other-facing set of ambitions.

I have spoken with other students from very different cultural traditions who also had a similar power in their hearts; deep empathy and keen vision for the humans around them. These young people enrich my understanding of what is possible, and routinely humble me with the abundance of their spirit. The contrast could not be more stark between their worldviews and the meanness and scarcity-minded preoccupations of so many adults in our society.  

This word ‘sonder’ will stick with me. It feels like the first step in a deeply important process; one of recognizing the ‘other’ and extending grace as a matter of habit; of ‘going first’ in the understanding and preservation of our collective humanity. It is the opposite of dismissal, the antidote to the notion that we can sum up the value of a human life merely by the color of the hat on one’s head, or the skin on one’s back. That old man sleeping on a park bench or a nursing home bed was once young and strong, full of dreams. That shy woman pushing a cleaning cart in your office or hotel is the loving center of her children’s entire world. Stars are all around us, each at a different stage in their own narrative.  

My students are a great gift to my life. They have open eyes and minds, and they have not yet learned to see the world with the scarcity mindset that is so prevalent among people my age. Their abundant optimism is only just beginning to feel the crush of competition for resources; the narrowing of opportunity that ‘realistic’ or ‘practical’ people -- with the best of intentions -- warn them is an ever-present risk of adult life. 

Achievement of one’s dreams ought to be the culmination of a life well-lived, not the price of admission to it.

The danger in these warnings is the implication that the young people themselves are not sufficient; that unless they secure admission to an elite college, or a scholarship, or eventually a ‘good’ job, they will not be worthy of a starring role in a life worth living. That they will not be worthy of recognition. That they will fade into the mediocre background and cease to be special, or to be seen at all. 

That in a world incapable of sonder, they will no longer matter.

My hope is that the adults who hector young people with these warnings will instead pause and listen to them, and consider that they might be able to teach them a better way. Achievement of one’s dreams ought to be the culmination of a life well-lived, not the price of admission to it. Thousands, perhaps millions of people who buy into the vanity economy spend their lives achieving so much, and celebrating so little. Tragically, they pass these grim expectations along to their kids.  

Sonder can be a healing process. When we see others as worthy heroes of whatever story they are living, we begin to see ourselves this way too. ‘Sonder’ might as well be part of my job description. It is absolutely vital that I see every young person I work with as the star of their own story. 

To say that we need young people to fix our society is to miss the point of their vast potential. Of course they will fix it, if we allow them to, because they won't accept a society that looks at people the way we do now. We are surrounded with a reflection of our own values: vanity, greed, scarcity, suspicion, aggression. The society that they might one day build could reflect the abundance and acceptance that many of them possess naturally, and that they could share with one another and with us -- if we let them. Or said differently, if we stop teaching them not to.

I'll hold out hope for that day. In the meantime, I'll do my best to recognize and celebrate those values when I see them, one student at a time. One moment of ‘sonder’ at a time.