Knitted-Wear and Birthdays

How would you feel if dirty knitted-wear that wasn’t yours was not only shoved at you in front of everyone, but you were also told to wear it? Luckily, we don’t have to stretch our imagination too far, for this scene from Sandra Cisnero’s short story, “Eleven,” was skillfully (👀) re-enacted by our classmates. The group held up a (Subbie’s?) black Super Mario hoodie from Uni’s Lost-in-Found and told David to put it on. David had no choice but to take the obviously worn, unfashionable, and unclean little Subbie’s hoodie (who knows where it’s been). As he struggled to get it over his head, forced by the peer pressure of his classmates, it was clear that this was a moment of deep discomfort; although he was laughing, maybe he was crying on the inside 😪. Rachel, the protagonist of “Eleven,” experiences a similar moment of distress, and perhaps this is also how she feels about turning eleven. 

Like how the red sweater is forced upon Rachel, the age of eleven seems to be as well. Throughout the story, Rachel refers to certain moments in terms of age: “I…say in a little voice that was maybe me when I was four,” and “I’m crying like I’m three in front of everybody.” She says that on your birthday, you may not feel like your new age because inside you are still ten, nine, eight, etc. and for Rachel, she doesn’t feel old enough to be eleven years-old even though it’s her eleventh birthday. It seems Rachel has not yet accepted her new age, and this rejection is manifested through the red sweater. Rachel says, “even if it [the sweater] belonged to me I wouldn’t say so” because it is so ugly. This phrase, although small, is significant because it highlights her willingness to deny being eleven. The red sweater is not really hers, and she feels like the age of eleven isn’t either. 

It’s not just the age that Rachel is repelled by, but it seems she doesn’t feel ready for the responsibility that comes with being eleven--the idea of growing up. Rachel’s description of the red sweater includes “ugly,” “stretched out,” “old,” “smelly” (like “cottage cheese”), “itchy”, and all around uncomfortable. While these are physical descriptions of the sweater, perhaps it is also how Rachel views the idea of being eleven. The responsibility is too big, revolting, something she doesn’t want nearby, let alone wear it. In an adult’s perspective and even for me, at seventeen, turning eleven doesn’t seem like quite a big deal, but for Rachel, eleven means acting older than ten--controlling her emotions, not crying, knowing how to handle a situation like the red sweater and her teacher. For Rachel, eleven is a big leap from being ten-years old. 

I suppose even when you’re thirteen, and then later sixteen, eighteen, twenty-one, fifty (mid-life crisis), every age is a milestone that will always seem like a big deal. And maybe moreso, like Rachel’s story, growing older never stops being hard. Rachel says that sometimes you might not truly feel eleven until you’re almost twelve, and the cycle seems to continue. In the last few pages (even though there are only four), Rachel repeatedly reminds herself that she is eleven. She thinks about how when she gets home, waiting for her will be a Happy Birthday celebration, as if she is trying to convince herself that this is indeed a happy occasion. Cisnero’s short story expresses the fear we may all feel towards growing up, but in the end, it is inevitable...