Race Cars.

Written in response to: Start your story with somebody taking a photo.... view prompt

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Kids Sad

"Can I take a picture of you two?" My dad asks. My brother and I nod and then he snaps the picture. "Alright. I'll send it to mom." I hug my brother and then we head inside. I was thrilled. Today was the day. I had studied aerodynamics, weight, speed, and skill to get to this point. I couldn’t believe it. I was going to win. I submitted my car. Then, I got settled. I chose not to eat the food that was on the stand, and then I found my friend. She had submitted a car too, but she did it more for the style than anything else. It was a very pretty and originally designed car. It was just definitely aerodynamic. It weighed less than it could to make it go faster, so the speed would be much less. There were many divisions. I got put in the last one. I was fine with that. My dad wished my brother and me luck` because he was going to be racing too. 

I went with my friend to the edge of the track. I was so excited. Before getting here, I stopped by a hardware store and added the final piece of my car. The last thing to make it almost perfect. It was the best weight and the coolest car. Not winning the beauty contest, but cool. The only person who was voting for my car in this contest was my friend because we swore to each other to vote for each other’s car. My car was weighed in and inspected. They let it into the division. My friend’s mom bought us pretzels. We ate them slowly, talking. It was loud in there, and people were very loud. 

There was this guy with a microphone that told the worst jokes. He was obviously getting them offline somewhere. All the jokes were pretty identical to the last. My friend, my brother, her brother, and I were making fun of the jokes. My youngest brother was playing with my dad’s tool chest in the corner. My dad supervises. After all of that, the races started. At last. My younger brother’s car was first, in every race. I was so proud of him. My dad’s car did well but wasn’t perfect. He was accepting of that. He was just there for the fun. And then my division and my friend’s division were up. 

My car was first in every race. My friends were third or second. But not very fast. Still, a very pretty car. She told me she was happy for me, that at least I was winning. Now, my brother went to the finals, and I did not. I wondered why. But I was fine with it. I decided to let it go. Then they did awards. My brother got an award, and I, knowing that I had won, did not. I saw the winners My brother had two trophies. And I didn’t even get a jelly bean. I was a nobody compared to him. I put the chairs that were around away. And then my friend ran up to me. “Your car raced your brother’s! You won!” I ran to the track. My dad set up the race, locked them in place, and there they went. Speeding down. And I won. My dad’s car had been lost to our cars. But I had won. 

We left shortly after that. I couldn’t believe it. After all this time, putting everything together for this car, working so hard, winning, and didn’t get credit. In the car, I asked my dad about it. He told me that it was fine, that I had won with someone. But my brother kept bragging. And then I exploded and demanded to be told why this is happening. Why I had won and didn’t get credited. My dad looked at me and told me that I wasn’t a boy. That was why. I couldn’t be registered like my brother because of my gender. I was so mad. Because I was simply a girl, I could not be included. I could not do the same things because of one little thing.

I was in third grade the first time I was told I couldn’t because I was a girl. Girls all around the globe are set to more and more rules as they are female. Males who tell them they cannot do something like a man can. Telling females that they cannot for one little thing. Throughout my life, there have been plenty of people who have told me that I was a girl and that was not something I should do. Because of something that I could not control. Something that was determined before I was born. My family was always so supportive of me. But haters hated on me. Because I was simply a girl. People ignore this all the time. They push it under the rug and keep going along. Like it’s fine. 

It’s not. Stop pushing it under the rug. We need to fix this in our society. Stop saying these things to young girls and then telling them “it happens.” It shouldn’t happen at all. Let’s break down these barriers. Let’s quit saying these things because it is the worst thing that can happen to a young girl, especially at a young age. Quit saying it’s alright. Because it’s not. Stop saying these things. Quit being like this. Every day, women struggle from being told things like this. They’re not weak. They are strong and intelligent people. I urge people to care for girls. Care that there are women in your life. Be grateful for all they do.

It's hard sometimes to care. I know. But there are a lot of things in life where you can find yourself being grateful for things. Women didn't earn the right to even vote until after black men in America. Seeing how much we fought in the U.S. over that is massive. It was years after they did when at long last we gained the right to vote. It's easy to push something like that out of your head, I promise you it is so important to remember not to.

May 02, 2022 12:11

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