It means I’m going to have to break an agreement that I didn’t really officially agree to sign in the first place, a document drawn up by a bunch of old white guys in a back room, the same group of old white guys who like to pass laws about our reproductive health and choices without us being there. That agreement says: We are here to be of service to others, that our destiny is to live in the shadow of men, that we are simply objects of desire, and that we are willing to live with having our voices stifled again and again by the misogyny of our culture.

Well listen here, ladies: I’m tearing it up. It’s going bye-bye and I’m drawing up a new one, and my terms are this: I am going to own my experiences. I’m going to pay attention to the reality of my life and the audacity of my dreams instead of the expectation I was raised with. I’m going to make space for the good and the bad of it, even the yucky scary fear-inducing parts, and embrace all the bits and all the questions.

https://www.glamour.com/story/tracee-ellis-ross-glamour-women-of-the-year-speech-2017?fbclid=IwAR18vr3pGYeTeCRhb7M1XKWqspwGieqH9VXd2Dk8q03iEnGSJxqAsJQ3VA0