Since I had two medical appointments last week that consumed my writing time, I did not plan to publish a post today. I began writing this article in bed today at 7:11 a.m. As I stay up late on Saturday evenings for what I call my Movie Night, I usually sleep in until 9 o’clock on Sundays. Today, I woke up early and stayed in bed reflecting on life here in my adopted homeland. In my state of half-awake consciousness, I allowed my thoughts to flow freely. Incidents across space and time—spanning my life in Guyana, Brazil, and here in the United States—came and went.

I recalled shocking a group of black American businesswomen during a networking event held by the Black Business Association (BBA) in Los Angeles, of which I had been invited to become a member. At the time, I had just started my home-based, sole-proprietor business, promoting trade with Brazil. It was the year 2007. Not yet having lost my Brazilian jeito de ser or way of being, I was sharing with them the Brazilian way of doing business. I don’t recall what I said that day, but I remember well one of the women saying, with disdain in her voice: Are you trying to shock us?

My thoughts drifted to the way I dress. Brazilian women have a flair for fashion that became a part of my way of presenting myself to the world. Over the years since moving to the USA, I’ve received unexpected compliments about my appearance.

“You look like a movie star,” said our apartment manager, on my return home after a writers’ club meeting.

“You’re beautiful,” said a stranger, as he stopped to compliment me on a busy street in Downtown Los Angeles.

Last Tuesday morning, September 30th, on my way home from the Medical Clinic, I stopped at a drugstore near the bus stop. I was waiting for assistance when I heard the voice.

“You look beautiful.”

I turned in the direction of the voice. “Thank you,” I said, smiling at the white woman in the adjacent aisle.

“I mean it,” she said. “You look beautiful. Look at me!”

Perhaps my facial expression was one of disbelief. I looked at her. Late thirties, early forties? She was dressed in monochrome pants and blouse, with a sweater tied around her waist. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail.

“I don’t go out much, so I like dressing up,” I told her.

The drugstore attendant abruptly ended our exchange. We went our separate ways.

I left home early that morning for a blood test. Two months ago, my new doctor put me on medication—with side-effects that terrified me—to rein in my out-of-sync thyroid gland. Thankfully, test results indicate that the medication has been effective. I’ll be seeing my doctor later this month for a follow-up on all the tests and treatment prescribed. To facilitate the drawing of blood, I wore a sleeveless dress. To stay warm in the cool, early morning temperatures, I complemented the dress with a light brown, cotton jacket. After leaving the clinic, I donned my hat to greet the late morning sunshine. I kept on my jacket to protect my bare arms from the harmful ultraviolet rays.

As you can see in the captioned photo, there’s nothing special about the outfit I wore that morning. Then again, we’re more than the clothes we wear. Of greater importance is the aura that surrounds our being.

I have an eighteen-year-old neighbor who captures my attention every time I see him. The lanky, bi-racial young man walks upright with a self-confident air and smile on his face. One would never suspect the trials he has overcome growing up with his erratic, white mother who suffered from a mental illness. God bless his white grandmother who raised him and an older brother!

Another neighbor, a black mother and grandmother in her early sixties, is a recent cancer survivor. Since losing weight, she looks and dresses much younger now. Yet, her aura has completely changed. She has lost her spark.

It’s great to be lifted up by a stranger with just three words: You look beautiful. We know not the pain, sorrow, or anxieties that others may be carrying. Just for today, let us greet each other with a smile and just a few words to brighten their day.

Look at me! Just for today, let us acknowledge the presence of the Other.