Submissions from our writing competition

Writing Competition!

As part of the anti-discrimination iniatives of the month of March, we organized a writing competition where participants were invited to submit texts on the theme of discrimination and/or celebrating differences. We publish here the top submissions from college and lycee: Congratulations to Romain T. in Terminale and Romane V. in 5eme! Thank you to all our participants for all the creative, thought-provoking and touching texts we received--you can read them by following this link. Look out for another competition coming soon!

COLLEGE:

- Romane V.

Most people didn’t approach her but didn’t bother her either. I, for instance, was part of those people. In class, she always sat by the windows, in the back. She often seemed to daydream looking out, but whenever teachers called on her she would answer every time, correctly. Teachers never truly realised that she wasn’t part of any friend group and didn’t treat her any differently. But amongst the students she was. She wasn’t bullied, wasn’t part of most gossip, wasn’t much envied. But she was discreetly stared at, quietly mocked, sometimes looked down on. Being smart, athletic, slim, gentle, none of those reasons were the true cause of it. She was discriminated against for her peculiar eyes. Her brown eye and blue eye.

I didn’t know her, I’d barely talked to her, I’d never looked her in the eyes. My friends thought she was a weirdo with all her good grades and nice sport moves as well as those eyes. I didn’t agree with all their prejudice, but I couldn’t entirely deny her not being normal. She was different, I mean we all are but her, I don’t know. I can’t put a word on it. She was intriguing. Way more than other people. You now know the reason for all my close observations. She intrigued me. As a matter of fact, she still does today. Don’t take me for a stalker though! Not me.

And then, one day, I made a move. It was in first period, in November, that I decided to sit next to her. We had Science class that morning, a biology test. As per usual, she headed for the back table by a window. I followed, looked at her and asked: “Is this spot free?” She placed her bag at her feet, sat and stared at me. I stared back and felt kinda stupid. I guess I was expecting her eyes to not give off the same emotion and intensity because of their different colours. But no, they held the same spark, the same confidence. She tilted her head to the side and replied with a small smile, “You may sit if that’s what you are willing to do.” “Thanks”, I added with a chuckle. Class started in about 10 minutes. So I’d better start a conversation. Or try to at least. “What do you often like doing in your free time?” It took me long enough to ask that she was already looking out, her back facing me. Her cheek resting on a loose fist, she simply twisted her neck and rested her other cheek on the same fist to face me. She looked from the table, to my chest, to my eyes. Not once did her eyes reflect any doubt. Nor in the brown nor in the blue. “I guess I cherish mostly dancing or reading,” she looked across to the front of the room and slid both hands in her hair, “and writing when inspiration comes by. What about you?” she nodded towards me. Even though I felt like she was slightly forcing conversation, her voice came out soft. I very well knew she didn’t like to talk much. And out of nowhere, I realised I’d always seen her hair as brown, but never acknowledged that it had a light ash tint. Straight, smooth, cut by the shoulders in thin bangs. A small cough snapped me out of my daydreaming. “So..?” “Sorry! Um I enjoy football, running and sometimes, rarely but sometimes, writing,” it came out without warning. I’d never told anyone before I liked writing. But she didn’t mock me or tease me, even though I knew my cheeks were warm. She showed me her small smile again. “What type of writing? If I may ask.” “Well usually poetry or lyrics, but sometimes I like simple quotes…” “Alright” I couldn’t help wiping my hand at the nape of my neck and lowering my eyes. “What type of dancing do you do?” “Street jazz mostly. Or modern. Depends.” And that was the end of our conversation as Mrs Winner stepped in and yelled her usual “Good morning students!”. She handed out the test and we worked in a solid silence. When time was up, my neighbour and I still hadn’t exchanged another word. Then the bell went and Mrs Winner spoke: “Class dismissed” and everyone got up, rushed out the door. Once in the corridor, I turned and said to her, “See you around,” and headed off. “Hey Zachary?” I spun on the spot. She came over to me and looked into my eyes again, hers a soft cocoa powder and a yale blue, “Let me know when I can hear one of your works if that’s ok,” she shone her same small smile and went off. “La… Lavender?” I had to say something, “wanna have lunch together later?” First idea that popped up and I couldn’t say it wasn’t a nice one. She stared, tilted her head to the side and said, “Sure.” “Oh, and call me Zach,” I winked, she smiled and both departed. People could think of her the way they wanted. On one condition: she had the same rights as anyone, so no treating her in a reproachful manner. She was physically ‘abnormal’, nonetheless winsome. But she isn’t a monster or alien. “Don’t judge a book by its cover”. Heard that before? Bet you have.

Au début, que les crayons rouges D’une vivacité sans mots. Ils dessinaient un monde qui bouge d’une couleur, comme des jumeaux. Cela ne se passa pas comme prévu Leur mine bien haute, ils allèrent voir les rouges Ils exigeaient d'abord qu’ils soient plus inclus et qu’ils puissent dessiner: que les choses bougent!

Tous identiques et monochromes On finissait par se lasser Leur art, sans vie tel un fantôme Finirait bien par s’effacer. Ils voulaient qu’on les traite comme les autres, Sans coups ou moqueries: qu’on mette des lois. Les rouges leur rièrent au nez: “C’est notre royaume ici. Vous, vous n’avez aucuns droits”

Mais un jour dans la trousse à crayons Arriva un curieux personnage Il était bleu. Et comme des lions Ils l’encerclèrent et lui firent barrage Ils partirent en vitesse, par les rouges poussés, Menacés d’être coupés, brûlés ou pendus. Ils rentrent chez eux, tous deux désespérés Car ils n’ont pas gagné, car ils ont perdu.

"D'où viens-tu?'' lui demandèrent-ils Mais il ne put même pas répondre Car par tout ces infâmes reptiles écarlates, le bleu se fit contondre La vie continua sans qu’il eut de changements. Certains crayons leur jetaient des regards noirs, Pour leur audace, ils reçurent des châtiments Mais ils n’avaient rien fait! Ils ne purent y croire.

Ils lui interdirent de dessiner “Pas de bleu dans notre rouge uni” Insulté, poussé, tapé, trainé; A l’écart des autres il fut mit. Ne pouvant dessiner pour la communauté, Ils le firent en secret, en dessinant à deux. Oh mon dieu quelle surprise! De leurs couleurs mêlées, En naquit une nouvelle. Qu’est ce qu’ils étaient heureux!

Un nouveau crayon fit son apparence Lui n’était bleu ou rouge, mais d’un jaune vif. Il eut un accueil identique et rance Puis se joint au bleu, triste et maladif.

On se moquaient d’eux, ils restaient tout seuls; On les maltraitait, ils ne disaient rien; Ils n’y pouvaient rien: les rouges tels des meules Les broyaient, comme s’ils n’étaient qu’acariens.

La société des rouges, elle, continuait: Les jeunes apprennaient l’art et le dessin, Les crayons jaunes et bleus restaient muets Eux étaient démons, les rouges étaient saints.

Ils étaient impuissants face à la masse. Certains tout de même avait pitié d’eux, Mais on disait: “vous êtes d’une autre race” Ils étaient en sous-nombre: seulement deux

Par cette mise de côté, ils se rapprochèrent, Et découvrirent qu’à deux ils étaient plus forts. Ils décidèrent qu’ils iraient demander, chair Contre chair, qu’on arrête de leur faire du tort. Ils la baptisèrent vert, la couleur de l’espoir et ils se demandèrent ce qu’ils pouvaient bien faire. Ils créèrent des nuances: vert-pomme, vert-herbe, vert poire Jaune et bleu purent sentir leur tristesse se défaire.

La réalité les rattrapa aussitôt: “Peut être qu'on dirait qu’ils étaient hérétiques?” “Tant pis! On abandonnera pas de sitôt!” Ils se mirent donc en route, tous deux un peu sceptiques.

Jamais on avait vu de vert. Les rouges, curieux, demandèrent aux deux autres d’où venait cette splendeur. Au départ menaçants, ils devinrent vite envieux De la crucialité du mélange de couleurs

Ils furent acceptés au sein de la société Les rouges ayant compris qu’ils avaient mal agi: Toutes les couleurs entre-elles il faut associer, C’est comme cela qu’on crée de la beauté qui vit.

Remémorez-vous donc, ce court enseignement Quand vous verrez des gens discriminer ainsi. Incluez tout le monde, même s’ils sont différents. La vie est bien plus belle quand tout le monde la vit.