If I were a man, I’d start before I was ready.
I’d speak boldly, unburdened by the need to always know.
I’d demand my worth—not with apology, but with certainty.
If I were a man, success would follow my confidence, not my credentials.
I’d stride into rooms and claim space with a voice that commands authority.
Perfection would not be my prison; good enough would be enough.
If I were a man, my presence would preclude doubt.
Capable. The best. That’s what they’d call me, no questions asked.
My passion wouldn’t be dismissed as emotion—it would be praised as drive.
If I were a man, I’d celebrate my triumphs without dimming their light.
I’d raise a family AND lead a corporation without whispers of compromise.
The boardroom wouldn’t feel like a lonely frontier.
If I were a man, promotions wouldn’t pass me by.
My contributions would matter, my voice invited into every conversation.
No one would question the validity of my answers or the value of my ideas.
If I were a man, my paycheck would reflect my worth, not my gender.
I wouldn’t be a mannequin judged by my attire or a puppet asked to smile.
My assertiveness would be a beacon of leadership, not a signal of aggression.
If I were a man, I could err without scrutiny, falter without critique.
If I were a man, the world would look different.
And perhaps…
So, would I.