You ever met an angel in the disguise of a curly-headed ray of sunshine playing in the ocean waves? I did one magical Sunday afternoon in St. Thomas. It was one of those Sundays that had fairy dust sprinkled on it. After a Sunday breakfast in town, I made my way east to Coki Point Beach. If you know, you know that Coki on Sunday is a vibe. Sandwiched between the beachside restaurants and the big waves, there is a long strip of soft sand often kissed by the tide coming in. There is music pumping out of the speakers. People making their way up and down the beach with oversized menus advertising food and drinks. Wait long enough and someone might stroll through with some herbal offerings.

There I was on a patch of sand under a nearby Sea Grape tree, taking in the good vibes. After a quick dip in the water, I laid out on my towel and saw her. A little girl about 10 years old playing on the shoreline. Going by looks alone, she looked like my kin. Similar complexion, similar curly ‘fro bouncing about. I kept glancing her way, watching her play in the water. She had a few playmates here and there but stayed in the water long after everybody else. She was content. She reminded me of 10-year-old me, happy to stay in the ocean until the sun started setting and the temperature started dipping. Little me who would outswim my cousins and the adults, not coming in until my Grandma stood at the shoreline and called me in. I couldn’t help but smile real big.

I got up from my reminiscing and went out for a longer swim. I swam out to the buoy line, feeling the water get colder by a few degrees. The sun at its peak in the sky, beaming down bright. The saltwater drying on my face, feeling kissed by the Sun Goddess herself. I swam back to the shallow waters. The sun, the ocean, the sand, the fish, the birds, the breeze – all conspiring to make me feel such aliveness, such joy. That same joy flowing when I asked a friend to take some pictures of me and the ocean. I felt bold and divine in my little black bikini. I felt aligned and at peace.

In my bubble of saltwater induced joy, I started making my way back to my towel and the shade when a woman stopped me. She beckoned me into the water to tell me something. How very mermaid of her. As a siren myself, I drew closer. She told me her daughter came up to her after some people watching and said, “Mommy, some people stand tall.” At first, her mother thought she was talking about the group of tourists taking up space as they had a mini photo shoot on the sand. Her daughter let her know “not them, her” pointing my way. The curly head cutie pie that made me think of my childhood summers in Bermuda, told her mother that I stood tall. She was too shy to come tell me herself. She saw me, like how I saw her. Both of us in our element. Both of us drawn to squeeze every last drop of beach time as we could.  

I beamed bright, waved to Little Miss and laid back on my towel under the sun. Her words rolled around in my mind. The tears came later that night. I thought of the years of not standing tall, of trying to shrink and contort into some more palatable version of myself. I thought of those dark moments of shame, of those dark pools of insecurity lurking in the shadows. And this angel of a little girl saw the fullness of me. She saw someone who accepted it all with grace and joy. How divine are these moments of connection, when we really see another. How beautiful when we share a word that shifts something in another. How powerful it is to embody yourself so fully that others see it’s not just on you, it’s in you.

We all deserve to be seen. We all need those moments of recognition. Maybe you don’t have a little angel swimming nearby to remind you of your beauty and your power. If not, remind yourself. Look into the mirror and take it all in. Set a timer on your phone and take pictures for yourself. Wear the outfit that makes you feel divine. Go to the places where you feel most alive. Stand in those moments and appreciate the fullness of who you are. Stand tall, Love.