Page 24 - Issue 17

Three

By Ari Egar, Kvutzat Maayan, Haifa

When I was little, my Uncle Mitch would play CDs he
burned with tons of classic rock songs when we were
driving in his car. He would always point out parts of the
songs that were really cool to him. I only remember one
thing: that great lyrics are always in threes. Like, instead
of saying “I’ll be happy,” saying “I’ll be satisfied.” For
some reason “satisfied” has more umph. He thinks it’s
because of the syllables.

I had a conversation with a friend recently about gender
identity. She said she’s constantly confused about being
a woman because she only really feels that way in
contrast. The world paints an image on a canvas using a
million shades of the same color. She’s the only one
who’s figured out that if you mix up enough of the
shades together, you get a whole new color. When I was
growing up, I was bullied for not being one of those
shades. In elementary school I didn’t want to use the
bathroom. In middle school I didn’t want to play sports.
In high school I cried without fear in front of my class.
My teacher called me sensitive as an insult. My
classmate Sarah yelled at him and came outside to
comfort me. This was the beginning.