You can be anything you want to be. Except a Farmer.

Growing up you always tell your kids that they can become anything they want to be, they can do anything they want to do. And when you tell them those words, you mean them, even believe them. Most of my play days found me with tractors, trucks and combines in my hands, not exactly the typical toys for a brown eyed, curly headed little girl.

This week I found myself browsing Oklahoma’s largest indoor farm show, in Tulsa. Thursday was a moderate day, but lots of looking and not much buying. As I walked down the isles I started to make a bet with myself. I passed booth after booth where vendors would glance at me, then continue to scan the crowd. I wasn’t who they were looking for. Not companies specializing in technology, not big machinery dealers, not even the Scentsy or LipSense ladies gave me a nod.

Granted, I am a college student who currently has $14.37 in her wallet. But, I am more than that. I’m the future of Agriculture. I’m a part owner in a 2500+ acre farming operation and irrigation business that services all of the state of Oklahoma. But, I’m a girl. And, a young one at that. I don’t fit the mold. I don’t have 50 years under my belt, my jeans aren’t Wrangler brand and I don’t wear an old co-op cap.

About 3 rows into the exhibits, without a single pitch or “Good Afternoon”, I made myself a bet. I walked out to my pickup and found a $20 bill. Walking back in I slowed my pace and let my eyes pay more attention to each booth, trying to make eye contact with the vendors. If one of them pitched their product, the $20 was theirs. My stubborn streak kicked in and I was ready to prove a point.

Half-way through the exhibits, still with no luck, I paused at a booth here and there, even picking up brochures on possible additions to our operation. Still nothing.

I made it through the entire farm show. Every booth. Every equipment display. The only interaction was with family friends that stopped me to catch up on family and farming. Not a single pitch. I didn’t fit their mold.

I can be anything I want to be. I can become a lawyer, a senator, an accountant, an astronaut (okay, maybe not with the current classes I’m enrolled in..), ANYTHING, even a farmer. I have every intention of following the passion I have for agriculture, I intend to follow it all the way back to the red soils of Caddo County. I know I am capable, I know I can put in the work, but there are still many bridges I must cross, beginning with the one that requires me to break the mold of what a farmer looks like. Let’s face it, I’m probably not gonna rock overalls on a tractor, and Red Wings just aren’t my style. But then again neither are hot pink work gloves (Seriously?! Am I working flamingos?! {No offense intended for flamingo farmers}).

I am somewhere in the middle. I’m young. I’m female. I’m the future of Agriculture. I’m one of many like me who will be putting food on your plates for the next 50+ years. At least try to sell me a tractor, I’m gonna need a few.

P.S. The $20 that I got to keep bought me a pretty good steak for supper. Pitch to the young female. She might just buy your dinner, she might even raise it.