We Are the Aliens

Human history is a tapestry woven with countless encounters between “us” and “them.” At every juncture, humanity has had its outsiders—people, cultures, or civilizations unknown to the majority. From the vast deserts of Africa to the dense, isolated jungles of the Amazon, the notion of an “other” has always existed. And with every first contact, those “others” have often seemed not just foreign, but alien.

Imagine the awe—or terror—of the first tribes who witnessed ships cresting the horizon in the Age of Exploration. These floating behemoths brought strangers with pale skin, strange languages, and inexplicable technologies. To the peoples of the Americas or Polynesia, these visitors might as well have descended from the heavens. Similarly, the lens flips when we consider the uncontacted tribes of today. What might they think when they glimpse our helicopters buzzing through their skies or our drones hovering like silent specters? To them, we are creatures of another world—supernatural beings wrapped in alien garb, wielding devices that defy their understanding.

This thread of perspective raises an intriguing question: what if aliens, in the literal sense, live among us? Not in the dramatic form of science fiction, but as another uncontacted tribe or species—a parallel existence within our shared space. What if these beings, hidden in the nooks and crannies of our world or even within our broader universe, are simply waiting for a point of contact? The parallels between historical human interactions and this possibility are striking.

When we think of “aliens,” we often envision something fantastical—humanoids with large eyes, skin of an unearthly hue, or incomprehensible forms. But consider this: if extraterrestrial beings do exist, they may be less “alien” than we imagine. They could be descendants of ancient ancestors who left Earth long ago, now returning to observe or even blend in. Or they might be distant cousins from the heavens, shaped by the same cosmic processes that birthed life here. They could also be completely different, yet still fall into the category of “outsider” that we are so quick to assign to anything unfamiliar.

The parallels between potential extraterrestrial encounters and historical human interactions are uncanny. For a moment, picture yourself stepping into the shoes—or bare feet—of someone from an uncontacted Amazonian tribe. To such a person, you are nothing short of an alien. You possess miraculous technology: glowing screens that respond to your touch, devices that let you speak across vast distances, flying machines that traverse the skies. Your clothing, adorned with colors and designs their world cannot replicate, seems like the armor of a superior race. To them, you are a being from another world, perhaps even a god.

The idea of alien life existing in a similar relationship with us is not far-fetched. If such beings have the ability to travel vast cosmic distances, their technology would be indistinguishable from magic. Just as steel swords or gunpowder seemed miraculous to stone-age cultures, so too might our world pale in comparison to theirs. And like humanity’s past explorers, such beings may watch, wait, and perhaps even struggle with whether or not to make contact.

But here’s the deeper truth: alienness is a matter of perspective. Throughout history, humanity has constantly redefined its concept of “us” and “them.” What was once alien becomes familiar with time, understanding, and integration. Vikings once terrified the coastal communities of Europe, their seafaring culture so distinct it seemed otherworldly. Today, they are celebrated in pop culture and considered a part of shared European history. The peoples of the Americas, Australia, and Africa were once deemed irreconcilably different by European colonizers; today, their identities enrich the broader global mosaic.

If aliens truly walk among us—or exist just beyond our reach—they might not be as foreign as we fear. They could be another chapter in this ongoing story of encountering the unknown, a new version of the outsiders we’ve always known. Or perhaps they are more deeply connected to us than we realize, carrying the same spark of life that has traveled across galaxies.

The question then is not if aliens exist but how we would respond to them. Would we react with fear, hostility, and attempts at domination, as we have with so many human outsiders? Or would we embrace the wonder of meeting another intelligent race, learning to see ourselves through their eyes and finding shared ground amidst the stars?

The truth is, we are aliens too—alien to some remote tribes on Earth, alien to those who lived in the past, and alien to the infinite possibilities of beings that might exist in the cosmos. Recognizing this can reshape our understanding of our place in the universe and remind us that alienness is a mirror reflecting our own unending quest to define “us.” Perhaps, in the grand story of existence, we are all travelers, all outsiders, all aliens searching for connection.