"What Is a Sister?"

I never had a sister. I was gifted two younger brothers close in age. My brothers and I have a good relationship, caring for each other’s career goals and sharing a common sense of humor. Despite this, throughout elementary school I would bring up to my parents how much I wished I had a sister. I was naturally introverted and shy, so making lasting friendships wasn’t my forte. When I heard other girls talk about the fights they had with their sisters about personal space and toys, I was jealous. I thought having a sister would give me a close friend, who would understand me better than my brothers and could relate to me more than my mom. Though my brothers and I had our fun times playing with each other and tastefully getting on each other’s nerves, it never provided the camaraderie of womanhood I was looking for. My brothers were disappointed that I didn’t want to play violent video games or watch crude comedies to bond with them. They mistook my rejection of these activities for a rejection of closeness.

I started looking for this "sister" in other places—like friendship. My mother, watching this search unfold, warned me not to get my hopes too high. She explained that sisterhood was special. This only made me crave this type of relationship more. I did eventually make good female friends with my shared love of drawing and social justice. But I also encountered bullying, was hurled put-downs, and received several variations of “you have no friends” written in my yearbook. I was told I would be prettier if I did my makeup and hair, and that no one cared about my specific comments about literature and film when I talked too “adult.”

It is easy to categorize these encounters as "coming of age." That it was the product of "mean girls." That this is just how middle school is. And I came to understand that, too. But when the traits that apparently made me so different were pointed out to me by my mom at home, I worried if anyone would ever embrace them. Once, my mom brought up the possibility of taking me to a psychologist to help me with these concerns. I was ecstatic to finally get help. But the next time I brought it up, she dismissed me, getting offended I would want to waste family money; I just needed to put myself out there more, she said. I am still learning how to undo the damage to my sense of self. Damage that was mostly, to my surprise, done by women. I was socialized to stay away from boys. I was taught how they would demand kisses or make you pleasure their dick if you got too close. I was ready for this. But it hurt to learn that women are not in this together. That they disrespect one another, too.

When I first learned about feminism through Tumblr halfway through high school, I felt vindicated. This is why I refused to accept the stereotypes in the media that women are catty and cruel by nature: men and the media capitalize on our insecurities and make us feel like we must compete against each other. And so, I still had faith in finding a friend who I could instead call a sister to me. I decided this would be my top priority in college.

My new goal was overshadowed by a change in the dynamics of my relationship with my brother. Two months before starting college, my brother was diagnosed with a rare and “milder” form of muscular dystrophy. This news came after a year of medical examinations for his limitations of mobility, in his neck, wrist, and ankles. My mom and I cried terribly all the same. I did the best I could to support my brother by researching his condition on Google and understanding the shaky prognosis that, after his pacemaker was inserted, he should be “okay” (read: able to walk) for several more decades as the muscle cells in his arms, legs, and heart increasingly starved. I went to college with a heavy heart, processing my brother’s condition and a newfound awareness of my privilege as an able-bodied person. After attending a workshop on campus focused on disability issues, I wanted to make sure my brother would always feel comfortable talking to me about his condition. not do the same for me. I went to CAPS to talk about my aforementioned struggles with maintaining relationships and got a preliminary diagnosis of Asperger’s syndrome, or high-functioning autism. When discussing my elation of having an explanation for the hurt I went through, my brother immediately told me I was “stupid” for believing such a “ridiculous” diagnosis. He told me to, in short, get over myself. I was met with the same reaction by my parents. After this conversation and our discussion about my diagnosis, I didn’t feel like I had an ally in my brother in the same way I hoped he felt he had in me.

I was shocked by my brother’s lack of understanding since he had a disability himself. But when I thought about this further, I was shocked at myself for having expected my brother, who never particularly cared about social justice, to suddenly transform into some kind of advocate for disability rights. For me to expect him to make his disability something inspiring for me is selfish and wrong.

My relationship with my brother makes me question where the line is blurred between gender and ability. I am mad that I still listen to his struggles when he feels faint or dizzy, because I feel he shares them without hesitation, no matter where we are or what we are doing. It has been speculated that I, like many many women on the spectrum, was diagnosed later in life precisely because women are socialized to be submissive and passive, while men are expected to be dominant and take the lead. My stomach hurts when I see my brother hurting because I am not a doctor or miracle worker who can cure him. But I gladly do the bare minimum I can and listen to him in support, anyway. Would my brother have done the same for me if he were a woman? I am motivated to listen to my brother, in part, because I am worried that as a man he is socialized to keep his emotions to himself, and will not have anyone with whom to talk about his disability if the family tunes him out. Would I have been more supportive to a sister in the same situation?

My quest to find an ideal sister is over. I’m not sure it’s realistic of me to expect to always have someone I can connect to on such a unique and deep level. But after reflecting on my relationship with the brothers and friends I do have in my life, I have learned to accept them for what they are, rather than dwelling on what they are not. This year, I have the goal of becoming my own closest friend, the only person who I can count on to look out for myself.

By Ana Lucena