People snickered, but our ag teacher, Mr. Carrillo, handed me a flyer for a statewide FFA speech contest: The Future of Farming. “You could win this,” he said. So I entered. My speech began, “I’m seventeen, and I’ve delivered six calves and once spent all night warming a goat in the laundry room. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” I won regionals, then state.
Not long after, I was voted homecoming queen. Someone left a note in my locker: “You were always real. Don’t let the plastic ones win.” Months later, I spoke at a farm bureau event. A woman offered me a chance to speak in D.C. about youth in agriculture.
I flew there—boots polished, proud of every speck of dirt that got me that far. They called me “cow girl” to mock me. Now, I wear it like a crown. Never shrink to fit in. The right people will see you.
