The words feel like a coronation whispered in two tongues. Reine —French for queen, carrying the weight of Versailles, of elegance, of a crown not borrowed but earned. Sobre mim —Portuguese for "about me" or "over me," intimate and grounded, like the turning of soil before planting. Together, they form a manifesto: I am the queen over my own story.

But a queen does not beg for a throne. She recognizes that the throne has always been within.

So I write these words as my coronation oath. I will not wait for someone to place a tiara on my head. I will not seek validation from a kingdom that does not see my light. From this day forward, I am reine sobre mim —queen of my choices, my body, my time, my story. The reign begins now. And it is magnificent.

To be reine sobre mim is to accept that you will sometimes be misunderstood. Queens are. It is to know that your reign will not always be easy—there will be rebellions of doubt, coups of anxiety, whispers of imposter syndrome. But a sovereign does not abdicate at the first sign of storm. She anchors. She breathes. She remembers that the crown stays on, even when the wind howls.