Julia Bialek

Woman

April 18, 2019 by Julia Bialek

I am woman,

my blood a map crafted by

all the strong women that

came before, that fought before.

This copper fuel surges through

my veins, propelling me forward,

compelling me to care.

I follow this map left for me.

It is my guide.

I am my mother’s daughter

and for that I am proud.

She is the original owner

of my hazel eyes through which

I see this world and will it to change.

It is her voice in my head that cries

If he can do it why can’t I?

And it is her actions that

provide me with the answer:

I can.

I am sewn from a fabric of equality,

with words as the thread that

mends lives and stitches souls.

When woven into hearts

this thread has the power to free

the tethers tying women’s

feet to the ground so we can

climb to the clouds and capture our dreams.

My cloud is waiting.

I am indebted to all women that fought,

all women that continue to fight.

Thank you.

The torch is now mine and

I will brandish it with the strength

infused by you into my blood.

It will illuminate the path and

serve as a comfort, for the blood

in my body and the torch in my hand

remind me that I am never alone.

My work begins now.

I am continuing this fight

heavy of heart.

Despite all the ground that has been

touched with light, there is still darkness.

Only when there are no more ceilings to shatter,

because we have surpassed every boundary,

explored every frontier and collected jars full

of glittering glass, will the darkness

be eradicated for good.

So I’ll fight.

I am woman,

A tapestry of history,

a slate for the future.

One day, when I have the honor

of passing on my blood,

my map,

I hope that it will be an artifact,

rather than a tool,

that the place to which it leads

will have been found and excavated

for its precious treasure.

But if not, I hope to proudly pass

my torch to the next,

knowing that she, too, is dreaming

of following her blood.

That is woman.

I have a twin sister, but we were born on different days. Throughout our lives, our parents worked hard to ensure that we were not grouped as a unit; in their minds, the fact that we shared a womb had no bearing on our ability to act and be treated as individual people. And it doesn’t. Whether it was pure luck or my mom’s greatest intentional gift to us (as she will claim), the fact that my sister was born before midnight and I was born after has profoundly impacted the course of our lives. Our separate birthdays have infused a sense of individuality into both of us from the very beginning, allowing us to retain our own identities. Yes, we are twins, but we aren’t “the twins.” We are Julia and Rebecca. It only made sense that when the first days of school approached, my parents continued this arrangement.

Parents of twins have a choice: place their twins in the same classes or separate them. Naturally, my parents elected to separate us, placing us in different classrooms in which to grow and learn independently of the other. Although one of the built-in perks of having a twin is never needing to face a new situation alone, our parents wanted to provide us with the space to become our own people. I am so grateful for that. As we enter our senior year and reflect on our time as students, people, and twin sisters, it has never been more apparent how much of a gift that decision has been. Thank you mom and dad.

Growing up as twins, Rebecca and I have experienced most of our milestones and achievements together, from first days of school and first days of camp, to becoming bat mitzvahs and getting our driver’s licenses. In many cases, the memories I lay claim to also belong to her, with our shared experiences outnumbering our individual ones. But when it comes to school, most of my memories belong solely to me, as our separate educational paths have rarely collided. We always had different teachers, we were always in different classes, and we were always happy that way. As twins, we have spent nearly 18 full years side-by-side, growing up in rooms next to each other, spending the summers in the same bunk at camp, coming home to the same house, and so on. Despite our love for each other, that is a lot of time to spend with one person. Going to school each day allowed us to spend healthy time apart, providing us with a place to be our own people (albeit in the same building). In fact, school is the only place where our individual memories, experiences, and stories outnumber our shared ones.

Spending our days separately and pursuing our educations independently of the other, my sister and I have been able to learn, grow, and prosper in our own unique ways. That time apart, that time to explore who we are without the influence of the other twin, has been essential in shaping the people we have become. For my sister and me, being twins has always meant going through life as our own people, just doing it next to each other. But as college approaches and my sister and I face being separated by a greater distance than just our bedroom wall, we are confronted with the reality that we must continue our lives as our own people, but not side-by-side. For the first time in our entire lives, not only will our educational careers be separate, but our entire lives will be separate.

For the first time in our entire lives, we will not be together.

As we tour colleges, write applications, and begin our last year of living together in the same home, I cannot help but wonder how different our lives are going to be without having the other twin a shouting distance away. Even though Rebecca and I have very different personalities and interests, even though we were happy to be in separate classes, even though we are both ready for this change, it is going to be a shock to live without her. I have never known life without my twin sister, and I know that I will have to cope with a Rebecca-shaped hole in my life. It feels like yesterday that we were walking off of the bus together after our first day of kindergarten, and now we are seniors in high school preparing to live our lives as independent people in college. While it feels surreal that time has passed so quickly, I am eased by the knowledge that my twin sister is experiencing these changes with me, even if she is not residing in the bedroom next door.

As we approach this new and exciting time in our lives, I realize that this is the first chapter of my story that will not feature my twin sister as a main character. But Rebecca, as we continue to write our narratives and live our lives, I want you to know that I am me because of you. You will always be an important part of my story, because you are an important part of me.

If Only You Spoke This Way

June 25, 2017 by Inside Press

Trump’s Tweets, revisited–and rewritten into a positive message of truth, unity and solidarity.

By Julia Bialek

The real story of America.

It is for the people,

where we join together to protect humans,

in absolute solidarity.

It is time to remember that

peaceful protests are a hallmark of our democracy-

the people have the right to make up their own minds

as to the truth.

So we will.

When the American people are divided, angry, and untrusting,

when the rights of the people to express their views are

falling apart,

when the hatred is too deep,

the journey begins to reflect on what truly matters

and rebuild,

with dignity and conviction,

our nation.

Our glorious history will spark movements

that address the barriers

that threaten peace in our world,

and eventually,

the natural beauty of our nation

will be restored

for all.

Welcome to America,

my America,

the home of the free

because of the brave,

where acceptance, love, and honor,

know no borders,

speak no language,

but breathe the same air.

Julia Bialek will be entering her junior year at Greeley High School in the fall.

Editor’s Note: Julia told the Inside Press that she wrote this poem for school. “All the words came from Trump tweets. It is slightly satirical as it gives a positive message (as opposed to Trump’s rather negative tone).”

Thank You, Mr. President

January 23, 2017 by Julia Bialek

January 20th, 2017 will forever be a historic day as it marks the inauguration of the 45th President of the United States. But it is January 21st, not the 20th, that will go down in the history books. It is on that day that hundreds of thousands, even millions, of people responded to a call to action and launched marches and protests across the country and around the world. It all started with a simple Facebook event, launched in the aftermath of the emotional November election, calling for people to march in the nation’s capitol to protest the then President-Elect. But what began as a single Facebook event became something so much more, as thousands pledged to show up and march.

And man, did they show up. On Saturday, January 21st, over half a million people showed up in Washington D.C. for the Women’s March on Washington.

Thousands of more people arrived in D.C to protest Donald Trump’s presidency than to celebrate it. That single Facebook event sparked the rise of “sister marches” and on that same Saturday, in nearly every major city in the country and in cities across the world, similar marches were hosted. Millions of people worldwide came together to make history.

I wish I could say I took part in one of those marches, but I regretfully could not attend. Instead, thanks to modern technology, I sat watching different live streams of protests across the country. I watched people spreading messages of love, and celebrities using their celebrity to enforce unity. I felt the palpable atmosphere of anger and unrest being channeled into action and effort. I admired the creative signs, which expertly mixed satire with political power.

After quite a while of observing the protests, I decided it was hypocritical of me to just sit and remain watching. In an attempt to take part in the electric movement overtaking the country, I grabbed my dog’s leash and headed outside to go on my own little march. I was immediately struck by how beautiful the weather was outside; it was sunny and unseasonably warm for a January afternoon. I thought back to the day before, Inauguration day, and remembered how rainy and cold D.C. looked, as the President-Elect became President.

The irony was not lost on me. The day Donald Trump, the man who refuses to acknowledge climate change, stepped into office, he was welcomed with dreary, miserable weather. While the day after, when 500,000 people arrived in Washington to protest his arrival, the weather welcomed the masses with a sunny embrace. If that’s not some kind of karmic retribution on behalf of Mother Earth, I don’t know what is.

What began as a march for women became a march for human beings. People of all colors, ethnicities, religions, beliefs, genders, socioeconomic statuses, and purposes came together, stood up, and moved forward both literally and figuratively.

After watching the country step up and speak out, I can truly say I am proud to live in America. Not Donald Trump’s America, but the America that America is supposed to be…

The America where the hallmark of democracy is questioning authority when injustice is present and staying resilient when faced with adversity.
The America where the right to affect change is not a privilege, but a right.
The America where millions of people across the country who are separated by geography can unite under a common goal.

But there is something so tragic about unity. The tragedy in unity is that often, tragedy causes unity. Examples of this can be cited in almost any major movement (patriotic or otherwise) in America’s history. Before people unite to fight for their beliefs, there is often some kind of misfortune or form of injustice that triggers the movement.

So I would like to take a minute to thank the catalyst of this current movement against intolerance: Donald Trump.

Thank you, Mr. President. Thank you for awakening us to the direction our country is headed, and embodying why we so drastically need to make a change. Thank you for teaching us that our voices are stronger than yours. Thank you for reaffirming the knowledge that our 140 characters can impact just as many people as yours, because words are powerful.

Mr. President, you opened our eyes to the fires of misogyny, racism, xenophobia, intolerance, homophobia, and metathesiophobia (fear of change) that burn in the hearts of too many people. And you have filled our lungs with the breath needed to blow them all out. Thank you, for giving us a reason to march, for giving our voices their purpose.

But there is one thing you should know: we will not give up until justice has prevailed. We will keep marching and not sit down until the entire country is walking with us.

Julia Bialek is a sophomore at Horace Greeley High School in Chappaqua.

Additional Inside Press Photos from the 2017 Woman’s March on Washington may be viewed on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/InsideChappaquaMagazine/photos/?tab=album&album_id=10154922219633669