Nope, I wasn’t born into anyone’s royal family. In fact, I grew up straddling the line of what would be considered poor.
We never went hungry, but I can count the number of times we had steak. The only time we had pork chops was when we butchered a pig or a neighbor would, at which time they’d share. We had plenty of chicken because we raised them. We had plenty of eggs because of the chickens. We ate nothing but fresh vegetables because we had a ginormous garden. I picked those vegetables from that garden. I hung clothes out to dry.
Saturdays weren’t filled with parties for me — it was a work day. We were up at the crack of dawn helping with yard work, doing laundry by hand and all kinds of other stuff.
Doesn’t sound like I came from a royal family, huh? Well, clearly, I wasn’t, but I consider myself to be from the royal sector.
Yep, I’m a Queen
It took me a long time to realize that in my own right, I am a queen.
Here are a couple of definitions of the word queen:
- the female ruler of an independent state, especially one who inherits the position by right of birth.
- the most powerful chess piece that each player has, able to move any number of unobstructed squares in any direction along a rank, file, or diagonal on which it stands.
I claim both these definitions as true to my character and what I am. It took me a very, very, VERY long time to think anything good of myself. I had been conditioned to believe that I was nothing.
The independent state that I rule is my own space and being. I indeed inherited that birthright from one the most phenomenal feminists ever born. My mother worked hard for every single thing she ever got, was humble and grateful, and I’m privileged to follow in her footsteps. She was a self-made woman whose only mission in life was to provide for her children and make sure we didn’t have as hard a life as she did. She was a queen.
I also consider myself to be an extremely powerful woman who is able to move mountains for myself and my loved ones. My ex-husband readily tells people that he wouldn’t be where he is had it not been for me pushing and encouraging him. For all the abuse he subjected me to, he willingly admits that I am the reason he is who he is today. That’s little solace for the treatment that I received, but at the same time, I am able to accept the fact that my season in his life was just that — a season. I wasn’t meant to be with him for a lifetime. That’s another blog post.
Guess Who Else Owns a Crown?
You do, my sister. I don’t care what you’ve been through or what you’re going through, you own a crown. You are a queen. Step into your role. If anyone knows how long it can take to dig that thing out and place it on the head properly, it’s me. You do, though, deserve to wear it and when you do, wear it proudly.