Even when I was a teen model, I didn't think it was fair that I

Hear, O children of the present and heirs of the future, the words of Tyra Banks, who spoke with candor and resolve: “Even when I was a teen model, I didn’t think it was fair that I had to enter the acting world to get insurance.” Though it seems a reflection on her own career, this saying carries a deeper weight, for it touches upon justice, labor, and the rights of those who work. It is a cry against unfair burdens placed upon the young and vulnerable, who must struggle not only to build their dreams, but also to secure the protections that every human being deserves.

The world of the teen model is one of glamour on the surface, yet harshness beneath. To the outside eye, it is a life of beauty, flashing lights, and admiration. But Banks, who lived it, reveals another truth: even in the midst of fame, basic fairness was denied. She was compelled to leave one path and enter another, not out of desire but out of necessity. To act not because her soul longed to, but because the system required it for survival, shows us how even the celebrated can be shackled by unseen chains.

The matter of insurance is no small detail. It represents safety, health, and dignity—the right to be cared for when illness or injury strikes. To labor without it is to walk a dangerous road, one misstep away from ruin. That Banks, already a figure in the world of fashion, still had to leap into the acting world to claim such protection reveals a failure not of the individual, but of society’s structures. It is the eternal conflict: when the work of the young is exploited for its beauty and power, but their well-being is neglected.

Consider the history of child labor in the mills and factories of the 19th century. Young boys and girls toiled long hours under brutal conditions, their hands and lungs worn down by machines and dust. They worked not for choice, but to survive, and though their labor enriched others, their own welfare was ignored. Laws had to be forged, through struggle and blood, to protect them. Tyra’s words echo this history, reminding us that in every age, industries of power must be held accountable for the lives of those who give them strength.

Her reflection also reveals the wisdom of youth. She says, “Even when I was a teen…”—showing that even then, she recognized the injustice. Many accept unfairness as normal, but the clear-eyed heart of the young often sees truth with sharper clarity. What she felt then, she speaks now, urging us to remember that fairness must not be granted only to the privileged few, but to all who work, whether in glamour, in labor, or in any craft of human hands.

The lesson for us, then, is not only about modeling or acting, but about dignity. No dream should require a sacrifice of safety. No worker should be forced into a field they do not desire simply to gain the protections they ought to have by right. Let us carry forward her words as a reminder to honor labor with justice, and to question any system that values profit above the lives of those who sustain it.

Therefore, let us act with resolve. To the young: do not be silent when you see unfairness, for even your voice, like Tyra’s, can reveal truth. To the elders: protect those who walk new paths, ensuring they are not left without care. And to all: remember that the measure of a society is not in its wealth or its fame, but in how it guards the health and dignity of its people. For as Tyra Banks has taught us, even amidst beauty and success, if insurance and fairness are denied, then the system is flawed—and it is upon us to seek its betterment.