I’m a Farmer’s Daughter — and That’s My Strength. I grew up on a sweet potato farm, where mornings started before sunrise and vacations meant the county fair. My parents worked with dirt under their nails and taught me grit, purpose, and pride in honest labor.
When I got a scholarship to a private high school in the city, people called it my “big break.” But all I felt was out of place. My jeans smelled faintly of the barn, and whispers like “Do you live on a farm or something?” made me shrink into myself. I hid my background, thinking it made me less.
That changed during a school fundraiser. I brought sweet potato pies using my family’s recipe — and they sold out in…
I’m the daughter of farmers, but some people see that as a weakness. I grew up waking up before dawn, with parents who work hard, their hands rough and full of pride. I believed that deserved respect. When I earned a scholarship to a private school in the city, I was thrilled. But on day one, a girl whispered, “Gross, do you live on a farm?” Others laughed at my shoes, asked if I had internet, and if I took a tractor to school. I kept quiet, hiding my roots and focusing on school, feeling embarrassed. Back home, I wasn’t just “the farm girl”—I was Mele, who could fix a flat tire, catch chickens, and sell at the market. My family built everything with their own hands. I didn’t understand why I needed to hide it. Things changed during the school fundraiser. While others sold store-bought treats, I brought six sweet potato pies made from my family recipe. They sold out fast. Then Ms. Bell, the counselor, came over and said something I’ll never forget. Before she finished, someone unexpected approached and asked me an unforgettable question. (check in the first comment
)
