On Standing In Your Power

If you just believed it was possible.

May 26, 2026

Happy Tuesday, love!

Here are 3 tips on being shamelessly sexy this week, inspired by my experience going to a Little Simz concert.

My Story 📓

“My other friend can’t make it to the concert anymore,” my friend texted me. “Want to come? It’s Little Simz!”

I hesitated. I had no idea who Little Simz was. And generally, I have a rule: I don’t go to concerts unless I’m a big fan of the artist. Often, I don’t enjoy music much the first time I hear it. Plus, I don’t really listen to rap. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to go. But just to be sure, I checked Little Simz’s bio on Spotify. The first sentence read,

“Little Simz is a boundary-breaking musician and cultural curator, recognised as one of the UK’s most captivating and visionary artists.”

Gosh, I thought to myself. I’ve been living under a rock this whole time. It sounds pretty tempting, doesn’t it?

And so, that Saturday, my friend and I dipped between the drunk Arsenal supporters celebrating their Premier League win and got on the Victoria line at Highbury and Islington station. I wasn’t wearing much; the weather in London has been nothing but sweltering.

We arrived in Brixton. The landscape around us morphed from stalls of jewelers near the station to cozy two-up-two-down houses of quiet side streets to the festival barricades along the sides of Brockwell Park. “Cross The Tracks,” the festival was called. We were far beyond the West London bubble of my childhood, which I now don’t even miss. We sat on the grass and saw another artist perform beforehand, until Little Simz came on.

The drones on the festival screens panned out to about 10,000 of us before they zoomed in on her. A single black woman standing in the middle of the stage. Her band supporting her in the wings. Her hair was braided. She was wearing a white tracksuit jumper and baggy army green trousers. Thanking us, London, for being the place that had raised her. (She later took off the white tracksuit jumper to reveal an Arsenal jersey, which seemed to divide the crowd for a minute. But then again, she’s a North Londoner through and through, so people gave it a pass.)

As she rapped, her eyes were steady. Beats blaring. Her smile was cheeky. Her stance was unwavering. She looked like she belonged. Humble yet deserving. Started small, yet she had arrived. So honest about who she is. Ready. My throat clenched. Tears formed at the edges of my eyes. It’s hard to describe. I just got the sense that we’d all persevere, somehow. There was something out there, much bigger than myself. She made me want to commit to my craft. Write more. Excellence. Leading. Helping others. Because this was something worth dedicating myself to.

Her voice rang across the sea of people. Her eyes glinted. Like she was shaking me by the shoulders to say:

Look at what you could do, if you just believed it was possible.

Your Shamelessly Sexy Tips 💁‍♀️

Desire It 💋

Identify the last work of art, experience, or person who deeply inspired you. Were you moved to tears? What deeper want, need, or feeling was that pointing you towards? What was it telling you about what you want to dedicate yourself to?

Honor It 🌞

Notice how excellence already shows up in your life, or how you might already have love, positivity, momentum, and creativity.

Send this to someone going through a transformation! 🔮

Act On It 🎯

Pick the one thing that came to mind in “Desire It 💋”. Block out one hour this week and sit down with it. No phone, no distractions. Write, sketch, paint, perform; do whatever “commit” looks like for you. That hour is your stage.

If doing it for one hour feels intimidating, start out by dedicating yourself to it for two minutes; two minutes is the achievement, then everything else is gravy. That’s exactly how I start my writing. Once I’ve started, it’s way easier to keep going.

See you next week!

Love,