Let’s get real: sometimes the very people who say they love you will envy the favor on your life. Not because you’ve done anything wrong—but because they see something in you they can’t create in themselves.

When they can’t manifest it, they’ll try to steal it.
When they can’t walk in it, they’ll try to destroy it.
When they can’t understand it, they’ll try to sabotage it.

But here’s the good news, Queen: no one can steal what God has mantled you to carry.

Just ask Joseph.

The Dream That Triggered Jealousy

Joseph was just 17 years old when he shared his dream. It wasn’t arrogance—it was revelation. He saw himself in a position of leadership, where even his family would bow before him. But instead of celebration, his own blood plotted against him.

“Here comes that dreamer!” they said to each other. “Come now, let’s kill him...”
—Genesis 37:19-20 (NIV)

What Joseph carried was divine. But because his brothers didn’t have the vision or grace to carry what he had, they thought they could take it by force—or at the very least, silence it.

Jealousy makes people delusional. They didn’t want the process. Just the power. 

They Stripped the Coat But Not the Calling

They threw him in a pit. Sold him like property. Lied to their father. Tore up his coat—the symbol of favor—but here’s the plot twist: they could take the coat, but they couldn’t take the calling.

You can’t steal oil.
You can’t fake anointing.
You can’t copy destiny.

Joseph didn’t just survive. He ascended. From a slave in Potiphar’s house, to prisoner, to ruler of Egypt. The same people who betrayed him ended up needing him to survive.

“Now Joseph was governor over the land... And Joseph’s brothers came and bowed down before him with their faces to the earth.”
—Genesis 42:6 (ESV)

Just like he dreamed.

From the Bernard Jordan's Pit  to the Palace—And They Had to Eat From Joseph's Hands

They hated Joseph for the dream, but ended up bowing to the dreamer. The famine drove them to Egypt, not realizing their little brother—now unrecognizable in his glory—was the one they would have to receive provision from.

“Then he threw his arms around his brother Benjamin and wept, and Benjamin embraced him, weeping. And he kissed all his brothers and wept over them.”
—Genesis 45:14-15 (NIV)

He didn’t just feed them grain—he fed them grace.

Let that sink in: the same hands they betrayed, beat down, and abandoned… became the hands that fed them.

What This Means for You, Queen

If you’re in a season where people are questioning you, mocking your vision, or plotting behind your back—take a breath. You’re in good company. They did it to Joseph. And they did it to Jesus.

But remember this: if it came from God, no one can cancel it.

They can strip your status.
They can lie on your name.
They can throw you in a pit.

But if God called you to reign, you’ll rise.

And one day, they’ll watch you walk in everything they tried to destroy.

Final Word: Don't Retaliate—Reign Ruthlessly

Joseph had every reason to flex on these brothers. Period.
They sold him, plotted on him, left him for dead—like he was just some dusty dreamer. But instead of spinning the block in full Pharaoh drip, he chose to forgive. Not because they deserved it—but because he didn’t need revenge.

Let’s be real: he was the king.
Why hold grudges when you already have all the power?

He didn’t go chasing apologies. He didn’t go looking for his brothers. He was busy ruling, while they were starving. He held the grain, the crown, and their fate in his hands.

And his legacy? Yeah, it was revenge—but God-style.
Restoration was the flex. Grace was the weapon.
Joseph didn’t just get back what he lost—he got leveled up in front of the very ones who buried him.

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”
—Genesis 50:20 (NIV)

So sis, let them talk. Let them plot. Let them envy you, mock you. Sometimes they wish they can be you.

And when it does, don’t shrink.

Walk in the room like the royalty you are. With humility. With heat. With holy power.

Because when you wear your mantle, God will make sure they bow, they eat, and you reign. Of, course I did it. 

I remember being a young, churchy girl, rocking my braids and patent leather shoes, when Destiny’s Child dropped that anthem—“I need a soldier.”

Baby, I was humming it in the back pew, thinking I was singing in code. But then the church leaders shut it down quick. The men, of course...  Saying, “No, baby, you don’t need no soldier.”

Lies. They lied to us.
And I’m pissed about it.

Now here I am—grown, educated, loyal, fine, whole entire meal with dessert—and tired.

Beyoncé, Kelly, and Michelle — on behalf of the church, we owe y’all a public apology.

Y’all were right.
The Church was wrong.

They told us not to listen to y’all. Said y’all were too worldly. Too fast. Too secular.

But you were just trying to put us on game. Trying to prepare us.
“I need a soldier.”
A whole word.
A whole warning.

But now we grown.
Now we know.
Y’all weren’t being rebellious—you were being prophetic.

So this is our moment of repentance.

We were misled.
We were out here praying for soft, safe, need permission for everything, sweater-wearing saints.

When what we really needed was a bold, streetwise, Bible-carrying, alpha-minded man who could fight in the Spirit and the streets.

Tired of these weak-ass, emotionally fragile, can’t-change-a-tire, no-vision-having, can't flip the money seven ways,  “let’s go half on everything” type of men.

Sir, what am I supposed to do with you?

I don’t want no soft-spoken, suit-wearing, poetry-snapping, “what’s your love language” type of dude who can’t even pray over a sandwich.

I want a reformed dope boy.
Yes. A sophisticated hood negro. Who slang cr**k rock out his grandmother back door (in his way way past).

Give me a man who can make love to me like Kevin Gates "I got you baby" energy.

Boosie loyalty. 

Jeezy ambition.

Talk to me like Lil Wayne. or The Baby

A country negro from Louisiana. A man with that Georgia slang. Or a New York ex-scamming negro. Even the white boy got swag in New York 

I want a man who’s lived a little, fought through some real storms, and came out refined—but still rough around the edges. And understand how a man is suppose to treat HIS woman.

A man that he treats his baby mom so good you don't even know her name. Cause she off living her best life.

Don’t come over here asking me what I bring to the table when you ain’t even got wisdom to flip what's on the table.

I want a dope boy that I give a few hundred dollars too and he comes back with a whole grocery store or laundry mat business. 

My grandfather use to sell bananas, apples, oranges, and watermelon as a side hustle when he retired from the railroad.

And I am not talking about a man who scams women. Or a man who can't help a woman because the women in his family will be jealous. 

 
Won’t give me gas money, but want access to my body, my business mind, and my peace?

Won't give me grocery money, but want me to cook for him?
Negro, please.

I’m sick of these “I’m working on myself” but can’t even work on an oil change type of men. Or let my check engine light stay on. But calling me over for a Netflix and chill.

Some women say, 'I can do it all by myself'—and that's admirable. But what happens when life gets tough? Not just financially, but emotionally, spiritually, when you need real guidance and wisdom? If the man you're with can only offer sex and nothing more, that's not partnership. Real men bring more to the table—they lead, support, protect, and know how to truly treat a woman.

Can’t lead me spiritually. Can’t lead me financially.
Wants me to pour and serve and nurture, but you out here still healing from your 7th-grade crush who ghosted you after gym class?
Sir, get therapy and get out of my face.

I want that old-school alpha love—not this new age “let’s be friends first for 15 years” stuff.

I want a man who:

• Fills up my tank without me asking

• Keeps the maintenance on my car because he knows I got things to do

• Hands me money “just because” and I didn't have to ask him

• Claims me in front of God, his mama, his ex, and the whole barbershop

• Knows how to break a woman off right and still make it to church Sunday morning because I asked him, but he might not be a regular

• Can make executive decisions when it comes to me without his mom's permission 

I want a man who talks ish to me playfully, flips money legally now, but still has enough street cred that nobody dares try me.

 A man who knows how to put it on me and talk to me while he making love to me.

Give me a man who loves being respected and spoiled—a man I can baby, nurture, and be soft with. Who loves spoiling his wife.

The kind of man who doesn’t flinch when I talk a little mess, just smiles and says, 'I know what you need' or 'I'm going to tame you.' or 'Wait to we home' That’s a different kind of connection. And we all know what I mean by this.....

I want a “we getting married even if that mean we are going to the courthouse tomorrow, and get dressed” type of love.

A man who keeps his word. If he tells he going to do something, It's like a check I can cash it. So if he tells me or ask me to do something I do it without question. Submission is never a problem. 

A man that says write a down a list of what you want to see this year and I forget but its done.

Not all this I said I was going to do it but failed promises over and over.

I want a protector, a provider, a planner—not a planner that makes PowerPoints but can’t plan our future together or protect me when I say I’m uncomfortable walking alone at night.

All this “wait on God” talk... look, God and I been talking. And I believe in miracles, but he requires action.

I want a man from back in the day—like my granddaddy’s era. Or from an African tribe where they still believe in providing and protecting.

What I Love Most About African Culture? The Men.

Let me tell you something—what I love most about African culture is the way they promote marriage in their family and the way the men move when they want a woman. Baby, they lead. Ain’t no guessing, ain’t no games. A man sees a woman he wants and says with his chest, “You’re going to be mine.”

And no, waiting around for her to chase him. He’s intentional. Confident. Direct. Now, let’s be honest—sometimes she turns him down at first. 

His ego isn't bruised. He's a hunter

And you know what he does? He gets strategic. Maybe he embellishes a little (okay, sometimes a lot), makes it look like he’s got it all together. But here’s the twist—if she gives him a chance, and she sees potential, she’ll help him build.

No meant.... Not Yet

But this is where we are in society now:
Men don’t even pretend anymore. They won’t lie, won’t finesse—they’ll straight up tell you, “I don’t have it,” or “I’m not trying to be anything.” And somehow, they expect applause for honesty without accountability.

It’s sad.
There was a time when—a man would lie to you—they at least tried to show up, to impress you. They got creative. Strategic. Maybe they had to borrow it, hustle it, figure it out—but they found a way pay their debt back even it it was late. They made sure you felt like you were worth the trouble.

And he never abandoned the one who was there when he had nothing. There wouldn't be anything he wouldn't do. But more importantly he would sit back and do nothing.

And he doesn't just sit back. Oh no. He brings effort to the table. He’s still courting her—flowers, charm, showing up like she matters. He finds ways to woo her. Even when the money’s not long, the effort is deep.

Then the elevation begins.

He starts taking the lead slowly: driving her to work, filling up her gas tank, making sure her car is running right. Then comes the money for the light bill. Then her nails. Her self-care. Little by little, he’s showing up. Not just as a boyfriend—but as a man building something real.

And finally, when he’s stable, when he feels like he can cover her and keep her—he asks for her hand. Not to split life with her, but to build it together.

That? I can work with.

But this new wave of men—talking about "we’re equal" but still expecting me to submit, split the bills, lead myself, and stroke his ego like he’s King Solomon? Chile, be serious. Don’t tell me you’re the head when I’m the one carrying the weight. If I wanted to be the husband too, I’d marry myself.

If you ain’t got that in you,
If you ain’t a real one,
If you still waiting for a woman to help you become a man—
Please pass me by.

Because I’m not just a vibe. I’m the whole frequency.
And I need a man who can handle all this Queen energy.
Not drain it. Not compete with it.
But cover it. Lead it. Build with it.

Or You wasting my divine, feminine, fly, God-ordained time.

Signed,
A woman who deserves a Ex-Dope Dealing KING—not a court jester. 👑