This anonymously written article was originally published in the “Written Word” section of the YU Beacon, Yeshiva University’s co-ed student newspaper. Under pressure from administrators at YU, the editors of the beacon pulled the article down last night and replaced it with a note explaining their actions. They plan to put the article back, but until they do, New Voices will host a copy of the article, which you can read below.
Update: The story has been restored to the Beacon’s website. We’ve kept a portion of it online here, but readers who wish to read the full article should go to the Beacon.
A note from YU Beacon Co-Editor-in-Chief Toviah Moldwin:
We would like to remind our readers that “The Written Word” is a section designated for student literary expression with both fictional and nonfictional content; literary works occasionally contain material that can be perceived as offensive by some readers, so reader discretion is advised”
I leave the melave malka with my new Longchamp bag slung over my shoulder as I walk down the busy streets of Midtown Manhattan. Looking into the eyes of the New Yorkers on the streets, I suppress a sly smile.
In a city of over 1 million people I don’t stand out at all. I look the same as any twenty-year-old woman as I check into the hotel and take the elevator up to the third floor.
Opening up my large purse and pulling out my things for the night, I can’t look at my reflection in the mirror on the nightstand. I’m not ready for that yet. Peeling off my Stern-girl exterior I slip on my lace and spray my newly-liberated skin with a noticeable amount of floral perfume.
Smiling to myself as I smooth down my freshly-ironed hair, I hear my Blackberry ping as I reach for it with my free hand. It’s him.
“Should I pick up some drinks?”
“Why not? Sure.”
I put my phone on the nightstand and crouch down to perfect my glossy pout when that familiar bell chimes again.
“I don’t understand why these bottles say they’re different sizes. They all look the same.”
I chuckle to myself. My phone rings in my hand.
After a short and frivolous conversation on the levels of eventual intoxication produced by different amounts of beer, his phone dies. I go back to glossing my lips and curling my eyelashes.
Adjusting the clasp on my Hadaya necklace, I finally take in my whole reflection in the bathroom mirror. My transformation from Occasionally-Cute-Modern-Orthodox-Girl into Sexually-Appealing-Secular-Woman: complete.
[…]
Read the full piece at the YU Beacon.
