Yehudis Mizrachi is in the 11th grade at Austin High School (going Post-secondary at Riverland Community College). She loves to read, write, paint, dance, sing, speak, and think. “Whether you know it or not, you've seen me. We are all intrinsically connected by a bond which is often bent but which cannot be severed. So, does it really matter that my hair and eyes are brown when my heart beats together with yours in rhythm of white and black and green and red and blue?”
PROSE - 2008
Grades 7 - 9
First Place - Asher Mintzer
Third Place - Josh Crandell
Grades 10 - 12
First Place - Aviva Oskow
Third Place - Yehudis Mizrachi
Prose, Grades 10 - 12: Third Place
You’re a Girl- Mizrachi, Yehudis
The sun was setting. A white crescent moon crept slowly into the heavens and I sat there in awe of the splendor unfolding before my eyes. On the surface, it seems an ordinary moment; two siblings on a swing-set, crickets chirping, mosquitoes making their hungry way to any uncovered skin. Yet in that moment, my world was upturned.
The plastic swing I clung to felt cool against my skin. My feet dragged below me, marking the dirt with a pair of lines that deepened with every stroke. I glanced up for a moment at my sister, 18 months older than me. All my years she had guided and inspired me by all she did. She was the leader, the ultimate in my eyes.
We sat there together, as we had so many times before, yet everything looked very different in the broken light of a setting sun. Our front lawn was no longer its bright green of day, but rather carried a strange dark bluish tinge that was calming, beautiful. Across the street there was a clearing in a surrounding wood, filled with the stumps and roots that I now knew so well. To us, the kids of Lumpkin Road, the children of army Majors, that small bit of land was our playground. It was where everything happened, so much was learned, and where we met the big, confident kid, new to Ft. Benning who would start a rivalry that would encompass our whole neighborhood, changing my second-grade world. Adam was impressive. He was tall, strong, smart, and ten years old. Adam could climb our tree faster and higher than anyone I knew, was swift on his feet, and very competitive.
A call from my right awoke me from my reverie. “Hi.” It was Adam, strutting towards our swing-set and looking enormous in my young eyes. “
“Hi,” said Estee. “welcome to the block!”
“Yeah,” I said, “it’s really good to meet you.”
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing a finger at the book in Estee’s hands.
“Math,” she said with a grin, “I really like it, and I’m really good at it too!”
“No, you’re not,” he pronounced. “You can’t be.”
“Why not?” Estee asked.
“Because,” he answered, “you’re a girl.” Estee was silent. A red burning of shock and hurt was quickly flooding her face.
Sitting upon my swing and seeing the conceited expression on Adam’s face, I couldn’t understand the real meaning of his words. It made no sense to me that such a ludicrous comment was powerful enough to hurt my adored elder sister.
“So?” I shot back defiantly.
“So, girls can’t do math, and aren’t smart like men . . . like me . . . everyone knows that.”
“That’s not true,” I shouted. The very idea that I might be inferior to him because I was a girl was terribly upsetting to me.
“Yeah,” said Estee. “I bet you’re not nearly as smart as us!”
“Yeah!” I said, mimicking my sister, “We even know grown-up math . . . Estee knows algebra!”
Now it was my turn to grin. Adam was momentarily taken aback and I was pleased when his mouth fell open and his eyes widened in obvious surprise. He managed to cover his initial shock, however. “So?” he replied with a sneer, “I bet I do too.”
“Fine,” said Estee. “What’s one algebra plus one algebra?”
There was a pause.
“Well?” I asked impatiently.
“Hold on, let me think” It was thrilling that I knew more than this big kid. I nearly shouted with glee, “See, you don’t know!”
His reaction was immediate, “Well, neither do you!”
“Yes I do! I know it and you don’t, and you’re bigger than me. One algebra plus one algebra has to be two algebra, isn’t that right Estee?” Estee nodded, barely containing her laughter.
“That‘s right,” she said, “Didn‘t you know that Adam? . . . everyone knows that!”
His face flushed and he stomped violently away. Little did we suspect in our moment of victory that this was the mere beginning, that our delicate little world was about to change.
We could not know at the time that the children of Lumpkin Road would be forced to choose; to pick a side in this epic battle of the sexes. As time progressed, I would find myself in competition after competition to defend my own honor and the honor of my gender. I would soon be lying a mere few feet from where I now sat, blood running from my chin and my bike bent from falling. I would rise with pride, watching the males march away in defeat after being beaten by girls in a tense game of football. I would hold my head high at my ability to throw a rock further than any of the boys before the eyes of a furious Adam.
Things would get worse, and often dangerous, as the battle continued to rage. It was far from my mind, as I sat on my plastic swing, that I would fear for my life, my head held underwater by the notorious Adam. My sister would punch him, forcing my release, and I would gasp for air and then laugh. I would carry Kudo bars to the clearing one day, refusing to share with any boys, after being avoided for weeks because I was accused of spreading “koodies.” I announced proudly that day that I didn’t carry koodies, but Kudos, and that if they were so horrible to catch, I would save the fearful boys by not sharing even one.
I had no reason to suspect any of this. There was no hint in the gentle air that I would soon lose many good friends and several great years in a seemingly purposeless quarrel. Yet as I sat there, Adam’s words lingered, echoing in my mind. “You’re a girl,” he had said, “you’re not like me.” It was scary somehow; strange in a way I didn’t understand. This was perhaps the first time in my seven years of living that I had been separated. I had been directly labeled and accused of the terrible offense that has caused nearly every calamity this world has ever known.
I had been placed in a category; assigned a role and a status in a game I did not know. The fact was real and scary. I felt alone and afraid. I was different, very different, and that could never change.