What Do You Want, Really?
When I was little and someone would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always had the same answer: “A mom.” I said it with absolute conviction, like a little girl announcing she’d be queen of the forest. But that answer was usually met with horror — especially from the women in my family. My mom and grandmother were brilliant, ambitious, fiercely capable. They’d been told they couldn’t just stay home, that they had to go out and prove themselves in the world, that it was selfish or lazy to “just” be a mom. So when I said that was all I wanted, they looked at me like I’d just thrown their hard-earned liberation into the trash. So I picked a more acceptable answer. “I want to be a veterinarian,” I started telling people. It was a good mix — smart, nurturing, scientific. I was a good student and worked hard, especially in science, and by my junior year of high school, I was on track to make it happen. And then… I found out I couldn’t. I was referred...
