Queen B

I grew up in a pretty misogynistic household. The man was supposed to be the biggest breadwinner and the man was going to take care of the wife and kids because they couldn’t fend for themselves. It always seemed like the man was doing the woman and his family a favor, not working and taking care of them because he loved them.

I never liked this, at all. While most little girls my age dreamed about their wedding plans and how many kids they’d have, I dreamed about owning my own fashion magazine and what my apartment would look like when I finally made it to New York City. Those were the kind of things that interested me. I could tell it always bothered my mom a little bit, but she never wanted to speak up and say anything, it wasn’t until this year actually, on my 20^th birthday that she finally said something.

“So when are you going to bring a man home to meet us?” she asked. I kind of just stared blankly at her I was so caught off guard. Sure, I had talked to a few boys while at Mizzou, but no one worth mentioning and certainly not worth bringing home.

“I’m just worried you’ll never find someone, then who will take care of you?” she said after no reply. I didn’t understand why I needed someone to take care of me, in my mind, I didn’t. That was why I decided to go to college and pursue my dreams; it’s why I commit every designer featured in Vogue or during New York’s Fashion Week to memory. I want to be networking with them one day, no I will be and whether a man is by my side, just isn’t important. I came to college with one goal: to graduate from the best Journalism school in the country. It’s unfortunate that my mother cannot see that and be proud, but I’m going to do it and when I do finally walk across that stage in 2015, the foundation of my Queendom will officially be built.

B