The pharmacist blushed and swallowed when she asked whether he carried non-applicator tampons.
Caitlin paused at the bathroom door, unsure whether she heard someone inside respond to her knock. The coffee shop was loud with tourists. She pushed the door open and stepped in without seeing the barista crumpled in the corner.
He’d really wanted to kiss his boyfriend after his game-winning #homerun, but they’d have to wait until they were both out of their uniforms and back at the hotel.
Qian and Sara both reached for the last veggie wrap; the professional development day had been long.
Mark finished reading the novel recommended by the guy he met from Tinder last week. He wished he was attracted to him.
MILENA NARANJO
YEARS AS MENTEE: 2
GRADE: Senior
HIGH SCHOOL: The Renaissance Charter School
BORN: Jackson Heights, NY
LIVES: Queens, NY
MENTEE’S ANECDOTE: I am a senior in high school and will be going off to college very soon. I wouldn’t be able to say this if it wasn’t with the help of my mentor and friend, Andrea. She’s supported me basically throughout high school. The best memories we have together, in my opinion, have to be all those times we sat in her office crafting through my personal statement and supplements for schools. She literally sat there with me week after week for hours, editing and listening to me talk in order to get it the way I wanted it to be.
ANDREA CUTTLER
YEARS AS MENTOR: 2
OCCUPATION: Talent Booker, Late Night with Seth Meyers
BORN: Los Angeles, CA
LIVES: New York, NY
PUBLICATIONS AND RECOGNITIONS: Vanity Fair; VanityFair.com
MENTOR’S ANECDOTE: Milena is a senior in high school, and much of the fall semester was spent toiling over her personal statement together. Writing, editing together, revising apart, rewriting together, repeat. It was a joy to work with her on something meaningful, just a small piece of a much larger application that will impact the rest of her life. The biggest thrills would come as we’d sit together and, slowly but surely, she’d make an edit of her own work before I could even get there. Those moments were so precious and made me so proud of all the work we’ve done together.
61 Years Apart
MILENA NARANJO
This writing piece is a reflection of the relationship that I have with my grandmother. We have our disagreements but I appreciate her because, despite our differences, she has made me the woman I am today and made me grow a greater appreciation for all of the women around the world.
I am a seventeen-year-old Latina on my way to finishing high school and attending college. I am a seventeen-year-old Latina and I travel around the city to take college courses. I am a seventeen-year-old Latina who can’t stand the thought of staying home, unproductive. I am a seventeen-year-old Latina who loves to spend time with my friends and go to the movies.
My grandmother, when asked what she was like at seventeen years old:
When I was seventeen, I had my first child. When I was seventeen, I wasn’t allowed outside of the house unless accompanied by your grandfather, abuelo. I had to wake up very early to harvest cebollas (onions). When I was seventeen, I had to be a good wife and have a seco de pollo ready for abuelo when he came home from work.
That is why I encourage you to stay home, too. Be ladylike. Learn how to cook, stop going out every day, and help your mother do laundry.
I was born in Jackson Heights, New York, in 2000. My grandmother was born in Cuenca, Ecuador, in 1939. We are sixty-one years apart. In Jackson Heights, I have bits and pieces of the whole world at my hands. People from every country on the planet roam each block. I grew up around advanced technology and countless resources, which have played a role in shaping the kind of person I am today. I attend school with a vast library and laptops all around. I walk to the train station to take the 7 to explore my city. None of this was available in Ecuador in the 1930s. We grew up in two completely different generations with different societal expectations.
In hers: Women had to be perfect housewives to appeal to their husbands and not ruin family reputations. But even though it’s 2018, I still get pushed by my grandmother to act as if I’m part of her generation. The old generation.
In mine: I get to wear what I desire. I get to cut off all of my hair and dye it purple if I want to. God Forbid! That would be a sin in my grandmother’s eyes. She’d remind me it’s devil-like, and that no man will ever lay his eyes on me. Mija esas cosas son del diablo, no de una señorita.
The role of women in my generation has changed immensely because we are contributing to the job fields that were once dominated by men, which is having a direct impact on today’s society. Years ago, my grandmother’s contribution to her society was very controlled by men.
She and her sisters spent their days crafting and decorating hats as a source of income. Meanwhile, when it came time to sell the goods, the men were in charge of negotiations, always keeping the pay. But the women never complained because at least they were fed by their husbands at night. And though it wasn’t enough, they remained silent because it wasn’t worth an argument.
Today women like myself have the opportunity to play major roles in different areas—business, politics, medicine, and publishing. The roles of women in my generation have changed from that of my grandmother’s because we’re educating ourselves. We are concerned with our communities and the destiny of future generations. Issues like generational poverty, LGBTQ rights, and public policy are arenas we’re exploring so that we can advocate for them in the future.
I am graduating from high school in June of this year, and will pursue higher education in college, something my grandmother was not able to accomplish. She attended elementary school up until the fifth grade because her parents were convinced that she didn’t need an education and should help them harvest vegetables instead. Because of that, she had to depend on abuelo her entire life.
I want to depend on myself. I want to live a life full of freedoms. I want to go out to dinner with my friends on weekends and still be ladylike. I want my grandmother to teach me to cook because I’ll need it in the future for myself. I want to wake up early to buy cebollas and cook seco de pollo for my friends, my partner—or whoever I choose.
Despite the differences between my grandmother and me, I’ve never judged her. Sixty-one years ago, she couldn’t stand up for herself. It’s difficult for her to adjust to an ever-changing society where women are independent. It’s difficult for her to understand that I am part of that change. I admire her for her strength; it’s what keeps me grounded and motivates me to become an advocate for the next generation of both men and women who will come after me.
2018
ANDREA CUTTLER
A brief pondering on the power of our mentees, the current moment of our society, and how our past will shape our future.
2018: What a time to be a woman! It’s terrifying and exhilarating, frustrating and glorious. Everything is spinning, whirring, charging, ahead.
But we can’t move forward without looking back. Milena and her grandmother, sixty-one years apart. Milena and myself, sixteen years apart. We are both products of Latin American immigrant mothers who came to the United States in search of more. More for themselves, more for their families, more for us. We learn from them, we are grateful to them, we are inspired by them.
And yet . . . we’re doing things a bit differently. Shaking it up just a little, living life on our own terms. Figuring out what we want and going after it. Seeking out meaningful ways to change the world, to speak up and speak out, to advocate for change. We are empowered.
All should beware the next generation. With the females of Girls Write Now at the forefront of what’s next, everyone else around should take pause, and take note. These women, their minds, their ideas, and their voices are the key to the success of our collective future.
SARADINE NAZAIRE
YEAR
S AS MENTEE: 1
GRADE: Junior
HIGH SCHOOL: High School for Math, Science and Engineering
BORN: Port Au Prince, Haiti
LIVES: Brooklyn, NY
PUBLICATIONS AND RECOGNITIONS: Editor of school magazine, Dr Dragon; Certified Green Belt; Pencil member; Mount Sinai St. Luke’s intern
MENTEE’S ANECDOTE: One of my goals this year was to get to know all the cafés on the Upper West Side, where Laura lives. Every week we have our meetings in a different spot. So far my vote for first-prize pastry goes to Maison Kayser on 76th and Broadway. We also met at the movies once and saw The Shape of Water, a high point. I loved the film. Laura did not. Writing (and revision) is definitely hard work, but my mentor and I have a good time together.
LAURA GERINGER BASS
YEARS AS MENTOR: 2
OCCUPATION: Author
BORN: New York, NY
LIVES: New York, NY
PUBLICATIONS AND RECOGNITIONS: Author of The Girl with More Than One Heart (Abrams, 2018); Girls Write Now Mid-Year craft talk speaker; Graduate student mentor at Stony Brook, South-ampton, in the Fellowship program for Children’s Literature
MENTOR’S ANECDOTE: It has been inspiring to me to work with Saradine on “Tomorrow.” One of her goals when she joined Girls Write Now was to write about her childhood memory of the earthquake in Haiti. It’s been a privilege to help her do that. Informed in part by our open way of working together, I’ve developed a “Be Your Own!” writing workshop with prompts based on my new book The Girl with More Than One Heart. I hope to travel around the country this year to schools and nonprofit organizations, helping teen girls stand strong, speak out, and tell their stories.
Tomorrow
SARADINE NAZAIRE
Every day, people around the world are impacted by life-changing events. At the age of nine, I experienced my first. A 7.2-magnitude earthquake forced my family to adjust to a new normal and rattled my whole world.
On New Year’s Eve 2009, in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, my mother and I sat in our living room. I was nine years old. She was listening to prayer on the radio; I was reading a book. All of a sudden, we heard a rumble, and I felt the ground shake underneath me. It wasn’t longer than a second, but my mom also felt it and started to pray. “If there’s an earthquake tomorrow, that cabinet will crash,” she warned. I wondered if what she said was true. I went on reading.
The morning of January 12, 2010, my brother, stepsister, and I went to school as usual, came home, finished our homework, and ate dinner. After dinner, having no chores, I went out to the terrace behind our house to relax. At 5 p.m., the earth started to rumble, lightly at first, then more and more strongly. I remembered what my mother had said: “If there’s an earthquake tomorrow . . .”
I ran into the living room to see if the cabinet would crash. That decision almost cost me my life. Within seconds, the foundation of our house shook, the cement cracked, and it wasn’t just china that crashed all around me. The wall in the hallway crumbled above my head. I saw my mom and stepsister running. I tried to hold on to my mom’s dress, but my hand slipped. I was buried!
Terrified and sure I was about to die, I prayed and begged God to help me. I crouched under the fallen bricks like a frog frozen before taking a leap.
How long will it take for the ceiling to fall down? I wondered. Will the ground shake again? My mom and stepsister were both outside, yelling for help. I didn’t hear my little brother’s voice. He must still be inside the house.
“Jesse?” My voice was muffled. “Jesse?” I called out louder.
“Saradine? I’m here,” he answered, sounding smaller than his seven-year-old self.
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Are we going to die here?” I was pretty sure that we were, but he wasn’t crying and I didn’t want him to start.
“No, someone will come. Let’s pray so they come sooner.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s pray out loud . . .”
“Notre père qui es aux cieux, que ton nom soit sanctifié, que ton règne vienne, que ta volonté soit fait sûre La terre comme aux Cielle . . .” It was Psalm 23, the only prayer we knew by heart.
He stopped and I panicked. “Jesse? Jesse!”
“I’m here.”
“Why did you stop?”
“I forgot the rest.”
At that moment, I felt the pain of someone’s feet stepping on the debris on top of me. I cried out. Hearing my voice, the man backed up and called out my name. Another started to pull the blocks where my voice came from, relieving the weight on my back. He pulled me out. The whole world looked gray for the few moments that I stood still to get my balance. The man, I now realized, was one of my neighbors. He hurried me out of the building, my brother following. We were rescued!
We lost everything: our house, our furniture, our money. We lived in tents with our neighbors in fear that the next aftershock would be worse than the original. For five months, we ate, drank, slept, and healed together. We had survived. I missed a whole year of school. In 2011, at age ten, I came to America.
Today, I remember that day when every part of my life that was stable and familiar crumbled around me. I hear my mom’s voice: “If there’s an earthquake tomorrow . . .”
Six years ago, I spoke only Creole and French, having just arrived in New York City from Haiti. Prior to that move, I had lived a peaceful life; my only concerns were getting my homework done and what we’d have for dinner. If you had told me then that I would be here now, a part of this tomorrow, I’d have called you a liar. That is, if I understood you at all.
I’ve been granted the gift of a tomorrow.
When people say goodbye they often say “There’s always tomorrow.” Not always, I say.
Only Me
LAURA GERINGER BASS
My mother came to this country from Russia when she was three years old. There had been trauma before she arrived, tragedies I knew nothing about except by growing up in the force field of her fears. I pieced a narrative together from scraps I overheard when the adults sat around telling stories. This flash is an archeological remnant then, passed down to me from my immigrant grandmother and mother.
Mama told us about her Russian uncle who ran away from the Cossacks during a pogrom in Kishinev, fleeing over rooftops, fleeing finally to America, where he lived to be ninety-nine. She told us about her other uncle, who was not as lucky that night and so never came to America.
Mama told us about her baby brother who died of influenza and so also never came to America. She told us how the officer at Ellis Island asked “How many children?” and her mother had wept and couldn’t speak and so Mama, afraid he would be angry and send them back to the Cossacks, pointed to her four-year-old self, at her fast-beating heart, and said in Russian, loudly, “Me. Only me!” and her mother slapped her and was sorry after and Mama was sorry, too.
Mama told us about her uncles, the one who escaped the Cossacks and lived and the one who did not and her dead baby brother who had been handsome and so much sweeter and better than Mama and as she told her stories her voice rang hollow and her words sounded foreign as if spoken in a language we would never be old enough to understand.
FAITH OKUNUBI
YEARS AS MENTEE: 1
GRADE: Freshman
HIGH SCHOOL: The Young Women’s Leadership School of Queens
BORN: Queens, NY
LIVES: Queens, NY
PUBLICATIONS AND RECOGNITIONS: Published a poem in the school anthology 2016–2017
MENTEE’S ANECDOTE: When I first came to Girls Write Now I was scared. As time went on, I grew more comfortable, but still not comfortable enough. This year I was too quiet. I wanted to share my pieces, but I just didn’t. I think I am capable of doing a lot more and I would like to show it.
ELENA COLN
YEARS AS MENTOR: 1
OCCUPATION: Advertising Manager, Columbia University Press
BORN: Moscow, Russia<
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LIVES: Queens, NY
PUBLICATIONS AND RECOGNITIONS: Translated contemporary science-fiction novels for publication in Moscow, Russia
MENTOR’S ANECDOTE: Faith is one of the most hard-working people I’ve ever known. I cannot picture her without a heavy binder full of assignments, papers, and schedules that she carries everywhere with her. Faith opened up my eyes to what the life of a teenager in New York City is like—it is a lot of work and a lot of pressure! I do hope that Faith continues on the path of self-discovery through writing and writes more for pleasure and fun.
Faith
FAITH OKUNUBI
My mentor and I were discussing the Generation F theme and how it is perfect for me because my own name starts with “F.” So this piece is all about me: a few things about Faith.
Let’s be honest, I have an unusual mind. You might be thinking, “Okay?” Or, “Doesn’t everybody?” No, mine is different. I take stories from movies and pretend I am playing instead of an actor or actress. I do this every day until I find a different scene to play. That’s how I overcome boredom. People say I watch too many movies because I don’t know what’s real and what’s fake. In class, I’m always asking “why?” questions. My teachers get annoyed with me because: number one: I’m wasting class time; number two: if they can’t answer the question I will ask more “why?” questions; and number three: I ask things at the wrong time. You know what’s weird? I have always been special. I was born with childhood apraxia—my jaw couldn’t read signals my brain was sending so I would react by crying until the age of four. Growing up was especially hard. If I didn’t have my sister with me I don’t know what I would have done. Kids would call me names and laugh; oftentimes I will run to the bathroom and cry. I stopped doing that when I was about ten or eleven. That is when problems started to happen. A lot of guys were noticing me because I reached puberty fast. But this one guy I thought was The One. He started to notice me in church. I got so excited, but I was naïve. Then it got to a phase where I didn’t like him anymore, but that phase didn’t last long. I was still thinking about him until like three or four years later. I developed the passion for writing at a very young age because it was my voice. I loved writing short stories as a kid. In second grade, when we had writing assignments, I used to write pages and pages. I remember writing a story about Cinderella. I don’t know how people don’t like to write and read. When I find a book I like, I just dive deep into it and never put it down. But when I grew up that passion just fell. Also I love to cook. Food Network is my favorite channel. When I get to my own place I can’t wait to start trying out new recipes. Also, I love making people laugh and smile. Apparently I’m funny but I don’t see it. I like to bother people. I like how pen glides on paper.
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