IT’S A “TWIN THING” WORDS Erin Christie VISUALS Laura Hoppenbrouwers Torres
As my twin sister and I stood, arms linked, bodies draped with rented white robes and matching graduation caps, we posed for pictures on the front lawn outside our school, the ever-prestigious Sacred Heart Academy. High school was done, and it was a moment when I should’ve felt relieved, even proud of myself, for making it through the past four years at a rigorous college preparatory, unscathed. At that moment, behind my grin, all I 126 could think about was the fact that my sister had earned the title of “4.0 scholar” and I had just barely missed the cut-off. I felt ashamed. Having a twin is like having a built-in best friend, someone who is there for you throughout every step of your early life, both physically and emotionally. In many ways, it’s a wonderful thing and something that many people wish they could nightmare. have for themselves. In Throughout much other ways, it’s of my adolescence, the fact that I a living was a twin dominated my sense of self, my sense of self-worth, and often in a negative way— that’s the consequence of being a twin that isn’t as immediately obvious as sharing a face with another person. Once I was old enough to realize that “twin telepathy” jabs and being thought of as just one of the “Christie twins” were affecting my sense of self-worth, everything else began to crumble. Was I nothing more than my sister’s sister? Did anyone even care enough to fıgure out which one is which? As small tikes, the two of us looked so much alike that my mother would have to fınd ways to tell us apart: she would paint the nails of only one of us, intermittently (though, a problem was presented if she forgot which of us had painted versus unpainted nails). We would wear matching outfıts, as all twins seem to when they’re young, but maybe one of us
