Middle School Writing: ‘He’ by Chelsea Manzo Mendez

CHELSEA MANZO MENDEZ 2nd PLACE MIDDLE SCHOOL

He

Looking in the mirror is always a struggle. It’s always easy to point out your imperfections
that way. You can see how your hair just won’t sit right, how on your cheeks there’s acne
scars, and just the overall mess that is your body. She wished it was simple to ignore those
flaws and dents. They picked away at her confidence like hungry vultures devouring roadkill.
It seemed that’s just how it would be as she grew. She always disliked her appearance, maybe
even more than others do, the dips of her waist, the curves of her chest. It makes her want to
rip herself apart. And then the words of people? They seemed to drag her down even further.

“Oh wow, your daughter’s so pretty!”

“I wish my hair was as long as yours.”

“I swear, you’re going to be a beautiful woman when you’re older!”

She fell sick to the stomach at those words “daughter,” “woman,” “she,” “her.” She constantly
begged for them to stop. Those words would make her skin crawl, they’d make her throat
close up, they’d make her mind spiral into a dark place again and again and again. A dark
place where she faced a mirror, seeing how her hair reached her hips, seeing how her body
moved through unwanted changes, seeing how her cuts bled down her arms.

She was angry, she was confused, she was scared, scared of what she was becoming, scared of
being a “freak.” She had already been the target of her classmates’ darts, each of them
sticking to her brain with such painful impact. She was already confused as it was. She’d
destroy the old dolls she had in her old toy box, she’d always tug and pull at the dresses and
heels she was forced to wear, and being a girl didn’t feel right anymore. She cringed at her
own identity, her skin beginning to feel loose, unwilling to fit anymore. Yet she stayed quiet,
fearing what would happen if she’d let go. And that fear grew, it grew, it grew and grew and
grew, heavy and crushing like a boulder. And she carried that boulder on her back as it
enlarged continuously. With each pound it grew, it pierced her back, with each snarky word,
her spine was crushed, leaving her broken and bruised. There was even a point where she
thought letting the boulder crush her was the best choice. She wouldn’t have to carry it
anymore, she’d finally get to rest. But she knew better.

She would then find herself in that dark place again, continuing to stare in the mirror,
tearstained cheeks, arms wrapped around her chest, her soft whimpers just below a whisper.
It was almost as if she was in a battle between her heart and her mind, her heart yelling to be
heard and to be expressed, while her mind held the heavy boulder of dismissed thoughts over
her head, as if trying to remind her what would happen if she listened to her heart. At last,

she grasped her roaring heart, squeezing it as an attempt to comfort the distressed organ.
She looked herself in the eyes and she spoke with a broken voice.

“I want to be a boy…”

She had said it. She had said the truth and nothing had seemed to happen. She repeated the
six words a second time, then a third, then a fourth, then a fifth, nothing happened. She
tested other words as well, saying them louder each time.

“I want to be a boy, I want shorter hair, I want a flatter body, I want a deeper voice, I want to
be a boy!”

Yet the words only echoed, and everything remained the same. It was strangely peaceful,
which was something she had never pictured would happen if she spoke the truth. And her
reflection? It began to change. Now as she looked back at the mirror, her breath caught.
What now stood looking back at her in the glass was a handsome young man. He had the
same brown colored hair, the same hooded eyes, the same little scars scattered on his cheeks,
he was no different from her, for he indeed was her. He was who she was inside. The young
man then smiled softly at her and spoke, his words ever so comforting.

“You are a boy, dear. A brave, brave boy for dealing with everybody’s cruelty and scornful
behavior. Never let people tell you otherwise.”

Silence fell as she took in the young man’s words, her lips slightly parted as her trembling
palms pressed against the glass, almost trying to reassure herself that this was real, that this
was who she was meant to be. The young man went on, his smile never wavering.

“You deserve to exist, and you shouldn’t have to keep everything locked inside just to fade
into the crowd to be ‘normal.’ Not to mention, it’s a pretty boring crowd,” the young man
joked slightly, causing her to laugh weakly, as she wiped away her tears.

“I mean come on, dear, you’ve dealt with ignorant teenagers, been dismissed by parents, and
you’ve done that all by yourself. No friends, no help, no nothing. That takes guts and
strength. It may not seem like it, but it does. Not many have been able to do that, some have
even passed because they’ve let that thing crush them.” The young man gestured to the
heavy boulder hanging over her head, her mind still threatening to let it squish her. The
young man then looked into her eyes, his gaze sincere and comforting.

“So please, dear, you must go on, for soon you and I…” The young man lined his hands up
with hers. “Will one day be whole. We will be true and we will be free to be our authentic
selves. Just you wait, dear, just you wait.” The young man winked at her before finally
disappearing into the mirror. She pulled her hands back from the glass, nothing else but her

breathing was audible, she didn’t know what to say. She then found herself smiling
incredulously, a surprised huff leaving her lips.

The days after weren’t easy, but they weren’t exactly hard either. People still used the wrong
words, but they weren’t as hurtful as they were before. School was still present, its sharp eyes
and sharper tongues still picking and stabbing. None of that vanished. But for once, the
weight on her back wasn’t like it was before, you could even say it was tolerable. This time
she was trying. Trying to cut her hair. Trying to change her name. Trying to picture a future
where her reflection would finally match the boy she had seen in the glass. She knew it would
take years, years of heartbreak and persecution, but she kept her head up because she now
knew who she was.

And he couldn’t have been happier about it.

8th Grade, Ánimo Florence-Firestone
Guiding Teacher: David Prado