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Young Women Write

Young Women Write

Ages 17 and Under

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Transition from the holiday-filled month of Tishrei, into the bleak month of Cheshvan
I have learned to train my eyes on Charlie’s brilliant smile and to forget the other children gawking at her on the playground.
When I walk by some people stare at me in my beautiful long skirt and modest long sleeved T-shirt. People can tell that I am different. People can tell that I am a Torah observant Jewish girl and I am proud of that...
It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to You in earnest. Sometimes I can forget for weeks at a time that You’re here altogether. I guess that’s because I forget how much You mean to me...
The moment we choose, the choice is not free. But is chosen choice chosen, or given really?
I am proud of being Jewish and proud of keeping my integrity even if something tempting is staring me in the face...
In Judaism, a person's Hebrew name is something that describes the deepest part of them. And when parents name their baby, it is the one time in their life that they are blessed with Divine Inspiration...
I know my grandfather is still watching over me, but it hurts that he isn't here...
This incident with Yehudit teaches us that a woman was a very special and important part of the Chanukah miracle...
I explored in the cause of understanding; a search which took me far from what was familiar...
There's something inside me that flares up and sings every time I hear him speak. That passionate little voice, that earnest face, so utterly committed...
I was always intrigued by the Jew’s seemingly endless fascination with lox and bagels...
Just looking out the window of the bus at a bare field, I cannot help but thank my Creator for bringing me to the Promised Land. I am here not only to find myself, but also in replacement of those who were unable to make it here...
She was not even a half a week old when the tests began. Their darling became a pincushion. She cried at first, but with each needle became more and more quiet...
As he sat absentmindedly cracking his knuckles in between turning the pages of his newspaper, I resigned myself to yet another tedious journey with an aggravating, crackling noise throughout...
it's sometimes really annoying to just sit there when there's nothing to do but watch your parent's (parent) work on the computer and talk on the phone (oy vay I can't even think about it)...
The word becomes suddenly fluid. The letters take shape, dancing with each other, grasping hands and twirling in ecstatic connection...
My name is Batsheva Goldberg and I am a founder, co-owner, employee, and advertising strategist for my family's company, 4 Sisters Soaps. I'm also twelve years old...
If we could see how far one deed goes, we would be eager to do as many as possible, but herein lies the paradox of it all...
How could time stop? And the moment was gone, written in an unrecorded historical document, lost in the many files of life.
From a young age I remember wishing that I could wake up and it would all be a dream. I remember wishing that none of this happened, that it wasn't my family that was different from everybody elses...
"Wouldn't it be cool to publish a magazine for Jewish girls?" My friend was used to my constant flow of ambitious but usually impractical ideas, so she simply responded, "Yeah, but we could never do it." And that was it...
As I looked around at my surroundings, I was amazed at the sight. Children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, great-great grandchildren, uncles, aunts, cousins, second cousins, hundreds upon hundreds of Bubbe's descendents all around me...
Salt and pepper is the feeling of being together and alone, amidst a crowd but standing apart...
To have a peaceful world we need to treat others the way that we want to be treated...