When I was very small, I considered the presidency of the United States among one of my many possible career paths. It was one of many options: I wanted to be a “mommy,” then an actress, a playwright, a marine biologist, a lawyer, or a teacher. The world was my oyster, and I had brains in my head and feet in my shoes; I could go any way that I choose (that Dr. Seuss was on to something.) I never really doubted that I could be anything I wanted to be.

When I was growing up, ambition was never a bad word in my house.

It was OK to be competitive; it meant that I had a fire that was not easily snuffed out. I was told to utilize competitiveness in whatever I was doing, whether it was my next English quiz or the audition for the school play. I was told to let competitiveness drive me, but to still be humble and kind.

Opinions were encouraged as long as I had the facts to back it up. I spent hours at the kitchen table, long after dinner was over, arguing with my dad. I was praised that I had made strong arguments, supported by well-reasoned facts. The best reward was when I could change his opinion, and sometimes I did.

My voice was a gift. It was OK that I was the first one with my hand up in class. I have a voice, and I will use it.

My mother taught me to be strong, fierce, and brave. It was not through “you can be anything you want to be” pep talks, though; it was by example. My mom put on her high heels and lipstick, and it was like armor and a sword. She is smart, capable, and made sure I knew that this was something to be proud of, not something to hide. I knew that if I was like her, and the other wonderful women and men in my life, ambition was something that I would be rewarded for.

Then something changed. Not all at once, and not completely, but a change was there.

Sure, I am still ambitious, competitive to a fault, and have a voice that I would challenge anyone to try and silence, but l am weary of the world and more cynical than I have ever planned on being.

I am not alone.

A massive gap emerges when you ask 15-year-old girls and boys if they want to be president. Women make up 50 percent of the U.S. population, and yet only 17 percent of members of congress. Something happens as girls grow up that penalizes ambition, especially when it comes to holding the most powerful positions in our country.

Women who dare to try are held to an impossibly hypocritical double standard, where no women can win.

Need proof? Just look at this comprehensive list of every one of Donald Trump's sexist comments as a major party candidate.

The world we raise makes it so that “leadership skills” are labeled “bossy,” and it’s alright to joke about sexual assault. "That’s just locker room talk," but when a woman complains, she’s a "bitch." Or a "pig." Or "nasty."

I refuse to believe there is no hope, because I believe that there's an ambitious woman who has my back. (So yes, #ImWithHer.)

Hillary Clinton once said, “Yes, there are still ceilings to break for women and men for all of us. But don’t let anyone tell you that great things can’t happen in America. Barriers can come down. Justice and equality can win. Our history has moved in that direction. Thanks to generations of Americans who refuse to give up or back down.”

So I guess I won’t back down, for the young girl I was, and for my generation, who was told to sit down and shut up. I won’t, and we won’t.