Meet Cecilia, Diep, and Tanishqa, the winners of our Personal Essay Competition! These not-so-average teens were the voices that stopped Guest Judge Lidia Yuknavitch in her tracks when reviewing over a thousand entries for last month's competition. Learn more about these clever wordsmiths in the Q&A below.
Read the winning piece here!
How do you balance your sensational imagery with the delicate truth that drives your narrative?
I think I learned how to do that mostly from reading a lot of Nigerian and African writers. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Chinua Achebe, Akwaeke Emezi (who wrote The Death of Vivek Oji), and even newer voices like Adesuwa O’Man Nwokedi (Adanna) and Fatima Bala. They all write in ways that feel very real but also very beautiful. I guess what I’ve picked up is that the way you describe something can carry emotion on its own. I try to make sure that my writing sounds poetic or vivid, but still grounded. The truth behind what I’m writing always comes first — the images just help me say it louder.
Why is resorting to the past important for setting up the ending of your narrative?
Going back to the past helps explain how everything started. The ending wouldn’t feel as powerful if you didn’t know what the character had already been through. It also shows how hard the decision to finally be yourself is, especially in a place like Nigeria, where being different, especially being queer, can put a target on your back. Everything is so deeply rooted in religion and shame. The character had already gotten a taste of what that rejection and cruelty feels like, so it’s not like he didn’t know what could happen. Coming out, or even just choosing to live honestly, is terrifying. So when you see all that pain in the past, it makes the final moment even more meaningful. Resorting back to the past was the foundation to a very beautiful beginning at the end of the story, and I love writing those full circle moments when I can.
Read the runner-up piece here!
Your story captures a heartbreaking reality for many young women across the world. What do you hope for other teens to take away from reading this piece?
I hope that after reading this article, people, especially young women, can realize that feeling hurt by the words “unintentional” or “harmless” is completely reasonable and should not be taken lightly. Our bodies are not open forums for critique, suggestions, or unsolicited improvement. At the same time, I hope readers can look more closely at the way we’ve been taught to define ourselves. Too often, without realizing it, we continue to categorize people using labels that sound positive on the surface, like “love your flaws” or “embrace your curves,” without questioning why those “flaws” or “ideals” exist in the first place. For me, the most important journey is not to resist all prejudices, but to learn to live without the validation of imposed standards. I hope that everyone can find that freedom, not by proving something, but by being true to themselves, confident enough not to need to explain.
What inspired the entry-style structure of your submission?
I’ve always been the kind of person who keeps a journal or jots down random thoughts from my day. I also have the habit of noticing something and immediately comparing it to something else. It could be a comment, a reaction, or just a pattern I’ve seen before. So, when I started writing this piece, I thought, 'Why not combine the two?'
The entry-style format gave me the perfect space to lay things out one by one, as each entry was a snapshot of a moment, a thought, or a contradiction I had noticed. It helped me organize not just my ideas but also my emotions as I tried to make sense of what the word "big" really meant in different contexts.
Read the winning peer review here!
Your specific feedback was commended by Guest Judge Lidia Yuknavitch in her commentary of your winning peer review. Why do you think specificity is important for the art of editing?
I think specificity is essential to the art of editing because it turns vague, surface-level feedback into something meaningful and helpful. When you’re editing or reviewing someone’s work, you’re engaging with more than just words on a page. You’re engaging with someone’s perspective and voice. Being specific allows you to tell them what you actually noticed in the writing, whether it’s a sentence that hit hard, an image that felt especially vivid, or a section that felt incomplete. It gives the writer something concrete they can work with, rather than leaving them guessing what you meant.
At the same time, I believe it’s really important to recognise that the writer’s intention might be very different from your interpretation. Just because something came across a certain way to you doesn’t mean that was the goal. That’s why I try to be careful not to assume or impose my own perspective. Specificity isn’t just about being detailed, it’s about being thoughtful. Instead of just saying “this part didn’t work,” I try to explain what I saw, what I felt, and why it stood out, always leaving space for the writer to decide if that feedback aligns with their purpose. Ultimately, it’s up to the writer to decide whether they’d like to implement your feedback or not.
In my opinion, editing is most powerful when it becomes a conversation rather than a set of corrections. Specific feedback shows the writer that their work was truly read and considered, and it gives them tools to go deeper while still staying true to their original voice and intention.
How did you learn how to write such supportive, meaningful peer reviews?
For me, it’s been a combination of personal experience, a lot of practice, and learning to really listen to other writers. No one in my family is particularly into writing, so when I first started sharing my work, I didn’t have people around me who could offer thoughtful or specific feedback. That’s why Write the World has meant so much to me. It was one of the first places where people actually took the time to read my work closely and respond with insight. Instead of vague praise or general advice, they explained what stood out and why, which really helped me grow as a writer. Seeing how valuable that kind of feedback was for me made me want to offer the same to others.
I’ve also had moments where the feedback I received didn’t sit right. Sometimes reviewers suggested edits that felt more like they were trying to make the piece their own, rather than helping me strengthen what I had already written. That made me realise how important it is to respect the writer’s voice and intention. Everyone’s writing style is different, and good feedback should reflect that. I think of it like helping someone adjust the focus on a camera. You’re not changing the subject of the photo, you’re just helping them bring their vision into sharper focus.
I also spend a lot of time giving feedback both here and outside of this platform. I tutor younger kids in writing, and that’s taught me how to explain things clearly and with care. Working with students who are still figuring out how to express their ideas has helped me become more patient and thoughtful. It’s also made me more aware of how much variety there is in how people write and think. Reading so many different styles has pushed me to be more flexible and open-minded in how I approach each piece. Whether it’s a beginner just finding their voice or someone with a more polished style, I always try to meet the writer where they are, and help them move forward without losing what makes their writing their own.