“What will you be when you grow up?” they asked. When she was younger, the answer changed a little every time the question was posed. It never once occurred to her that she wouldn’t be something — that she wouldn’t be someone. Through countless hours spent thinking about the next step, the assumption of ‘work’ remained. “Find a job that makes you happy, and gives you choices,” her mother said. Ten years later, armed with two degrees, she contemplates a third. Partly, to avoid going to another interview, only to hear a middle-aged man tell her he cannot believe that she’s nearing 30. “But you look so young — no plans for marriage?” he says, even as he mentally crosses her off a shortlist she was barely on. She knows she’s one of the privileged ones. What of those women who have mouths to feed? Those with bills that won’t stop coming? What of them?