The Audacity of a Winning Sperm

There is a very specific genre of teenage rage that sounds like this:

“I didn’t ask to be born.”

And honestly, I get it. I’ve had mornings where my alarm clock felt like a personal attack, my commute felt like a punishment, and my inbox looked like a crime scene. On those days, I, too, did not ask to be born. I barely asked to be awake.

Especially now.

Because somewhere along the way, life stopped being theoretical and started being… operational. I walk into a building every day responsible for over a hundred fragile lives—people who depend on systems working, on staff showing up, on decisions being made fast and right. There are no “off” days when you carry that kind of responsibility. Even silence feels like it’s waiting for something to go wrong.

So yes—there are moments when I think, who signed me up for this?

But let’s pause the dramatics for a second—just a second—and examine the logic.

Because if we’re going to go there, we have to go all the way there.

Yes, you didn’t choose your parents. You didn’t select them from a catalog like you’re shopping for a slightly dysfunctional but loving Costco bundle: “Hmm… I’ll take the strict one with emotional unavailability and the other one with a side of sarcasm.”

But also… your parents didn’t exactly sit down at a board meeting and say, “Let’s specifically pick this child. The one who will grow up to carry an entire operation on his back, answer emails at ungodly hours, and still somehow question all his life choices before lunch.”

Because biologically speaking, what happened was less “thoughtful selection” and more… The Hunger Games: Microscopic Edition.

That night—yes, that night—there were thousands of contenders. Thousands. A full-blown aquatic marathon of overachievers with one goal: reach the egg first or perish trying.

No interviews. No background checks. No personality assessments.

Just vibes. And speed.

And you?

You were not a passive participant in this story.

You were the winner.

You were the Usain Bolt of sperms. The Simone Biles of cellular determination. The Beyoncé of microscopic ambition.

You didn’t just happen into existence. You fought for it. You swam like your life depended on it—because it literally did.

And if I’m being honest, that tracks.

Because I’ve never really been the kind of person who waits to be chosen. I left home, crossed oceans, built a life from scratch in a country that doesn’t hand you anything gently. I worked my way into rooms I didn’t grow up in, learned systems I wasn’t raised to understand, carried expectations that didn’t come with instructions.

Somewhere deep in my DNA, I’ve always been competing.

Winning, even when it costs me.

So it’s almost ironic—almost—that after all that, after everything it took just to get here, I can still catch myself thinking, this is too much.

That I didn’t ask for this.

Oh, but I did.

Not just that first time—but every time after.

Because somewhere in that chaotic, slippery Olympics, you—and apparently, I—said:

“I will not be ignored.”

“I will not be outswum.”

“I will be born.”

And then decades later, here we are, paying bills, managing people, navigating expectations, and occasionally staring at the ceiling like, “This wasn’t in the brochure.”

You saw the egg and said, “That’s mine. I don’t know what stress is yet, but I’m ready.”

And now suddenly, life is unfair because it’s hard? The same person who elbowed out thousands of competitors is now defeated by emails and responsibilities?

Make it make sense.

Look, I’m not saying parents are perfect. Please. If parenting came with Yelp reviews, some households would be sitting at a strong 2.5 stars with comments like:

“Food was decent, but emotional support was inconsistent.”

“Would not recommend during teenage years.”

But still—the narrative that you’re just some innocent bystander in your own existence? That doesn’t quite hold up.

Because if anything, you were the most aggressive overachiever in the room before you even had a room.

You didn’t wait to be chosen. You chose yourself.

You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t overthink. You didn’t say, “Let me reflect on whether this is the right environment for my growth.”

No. You said, “I’m going in.”

Bold. Decisive. Slightly unhinged.

And honestly? Respect.

But that also means you don’t get to act like you were randomly assigned this life like a bad group project.

You signed up for this. Enthusiastically.

You were basically the kid in class who raises their hand before the teacher even finishes asking the question—and now you’re mad you got called on.

And listen, life is hard. Families are complicated. Some people grow up in environments that feel more like survival than support—and that deserves empathy, not sarcasm.

I know what it’s like to build while carrying weight no one sees. To look put together on the outside while quietly negotiating exhaustion on the inside. To keep showing up because too many people are depending on you to fall apart.

But even then—even there—the truth doesn’t change.

Before I became tired, before I became responsible, before I became someone other people rely on—

I was relentless.

You were relentless.

We didn’t drift into life.

We charged into it.

So the next time you feel like saying, “I didn’t ask to be born,” maybe rephrase it a little.

Try:

“I aggressively pursued this opportunity and now have follow-up questions.”

It’s more accurate. And frankly, a lot funnier.

Because at the end of the day, you are here not by accident, not by gentle invitation—but by victory.

You won the race.

Now act like it.