For as long as I can remember, I’ve seen people be surprised by their willingness to share their personal thoughts or emotional stories with me. They’ll say, “I have no idea why I’m telling you this,” and go on to reveal their heart. Recently, an older friend said those exact words with a perplexed look on her face as our conversation shifted from celebrating the basketball game we’d just watched to her sharing how she’d lost a child some 30 years prior. At a wedding, a man’s date got upset when he ditched her on the dance floor to talk with me, a stranger, about his experience being Black in corporate (white) America. And I have met many others whose presence alone seems to dismantle the walls people build around themselves. This concept hints at the potential for your presence to be magical, capable of influencing more than our typical five senses or our everyday experiences might suggest. And it suggests a deeper meaning to the statement, “Representation matters.”

I have always believed there is more to life than meets the eye, but it has only been in recent years that I have started to understand the extent to which this is true. Despite being starkly anti-religious for most of my life, I kept having experiences that suggested “God” or “The Universe” or some form of awareness was engaging with me. Curiosity, last month’s topic, kept the door to spirituality from closing. Now, I subscribe to the belief that a tinge of miraculousness is at play in every interaction and moment. Pursuing spirituality means seeking the perspectives and nurturing the awareness that allows me to connect previously indiscernible dots. This explains my connection with activism: the wealth of perspectives I gain as the breadth of my work grows opens me to experience more beauty, feel more joy, and express more happiness than I previously thought possible. Life is meant to be filled with wonder in a way that doesn’t make sense until it does.

In May, the Universe showed me that I had been underestimating and underutilizing the power of individuality by failing to define and express my style. I have spent most of my life hyper-focused on body language and vibes; growing up Black in the South and being familiar with names like Emmett Till (1955), Rodney King (1991), and Trayvon Martin (2012) will do that to you. And according to Google, “70 - 93 percent of all communication is nonverbal.” Being so painfully aware of how physical appearance could be weaponized against me made it difficult to imagine how much I could be empowered by carefully chosen shirts, peculiar earrings, and painted fingernails—common features of my present-day style. The truth is that everyone’s presence has the potential to be magical—to inspire, to influence, to welcome, to create in ways most people would struggle to believe.

Consider light. It comes in many individual forms that illuminate and excite distinct aspects of the Universe—a fact we use every day—engineers program LEDs to create colorful images on cell phone screens. Radiologists use X-ray lights to see bones. Medicine makers use radiated particles to illuminate biological processes within the body. Restaurants use UV light to warm food. iPhones use lasers to measure facial features. Sometimes, it can be seen; sometimes, it can be felt. Some forms heal, while others destroy. It is easy to diminish light as something that eliminates shadows, but clearly, it does so much more. Similarly, it is easy to reduce things like shoes or accessories as just being the raw materials they’re composed of, but considering that they could be more than just the sum of their parts might yield spectacular realizations.

Here’s some Woo. Your spirit is another distinct form of light capable of casting out life’s shadows like no other light can. Your presence communicates truths that words can’t always capture. Living authentically means aligning who you present to the world with your mental version of yourself, as it is just before your fears and expectations do a makeover. And in the same way that vulnerability begets vulnerability, your authenticity might permit another to live more honestly. The light that is your soul, expressed through your personalized style, illuminates new ways of being and existing that others may never discover without you. Your soul is a lighthouse capable of guiding trains of thought through unfamiliar corners in the minds of everyone graced by your presence. This explains the phrase “representation matters” on a spiritual level.

The moment this “lighthouse” epiphany came to me coincides with a comical tiny miracle. After joking with a friend about a crazy story a stranger had uninvitedly shared, I stepped into a coffee shop to find the old gospel song “This Little Light of Mine” playing over the speakers. I might not have even noticed such a moment in Arkansas, where I grew up, but it was quite peculiar for Cupertino. Even in my most anti-religious mindsets, this song’s lyrics inspired peace and confidence within me. And now I recognize the words are literal. It felt like yet another moment where I “discovered” a truth that had been before my eyes my whole life; I just hadn’t been open to receiving it.

I had just finished kindergarten the first time an adult, the white mother living across the street, made it clear they hated me because of my skin. Shortly after, my Blackness was challenged publicly for the first time by a peer whose skin was more traditionally Black than my own. I have a skin condition called “pixelated mosaicism,” meaning that instead of having a homogenous pigmentation, my skin tone is a mosaic of pixels with shades ranging from cream to mocha. It was too Black for the white kids but not Black enough for the kids I identified with. In response, anger and resentment pushed me to fixate on the negative “things” I didn’t want to be—not weak, not emotional, not fearful. It is only now that I can see how much more joyous it is to instead fixate on the aspects of myself that I love.

I went to AfroTech in 2022 and witnessed more unique pairs of Jordans, more phenomenal backpacks, and more amazing definitions of “business-casual” than I had ever seen in one place. I found myself jealous of how much others were communicating about themselves through their presence, painfully aware of how much more I could have been expressing through my own. I was surprisingly emotional as I purchased my first pair of Jordans before flying home. Now, my shoe game is a point of pride; lacing up a pair of shoes that give me joy has become another way of starting my day with a small victory.

When I realized the fruitfulness of being intentional about shoes, I started caring more about other aspects of my physical appearance. Painting my nails was initially just a way of proving to myself that I’m not controlled by fear. Now, going to the nail salon is a reliable option for my mental health strategy. The conversations that my nails have sparked with total strangers make it easier to believe that I matter, that I am powerful, and that I can make a difference. Piercing my ears (February 2023) helped me realize an affinity for jewelry. Now, I feel more connected with my mother (fellow jewelry lover) and find it much easier to embody the confidence necessary to achieve my goals. I pierced my septum this past February. I wore my first pair of dangly earrings to work on May 15th. As I learn to allow myself to live more authentically, I am able to appreciate, articulate, and advocate for my self-worth more. As I get better at expressing my joy, fears, support, and truths by being intentional about my physical presence, the easier it becomes to have hope, feel empathy, and continue to expel fear from my life.

May: Let’s Talk About Style

June: Let’s Talk About Framing

April: Let’s Talk About Curiosity