The sister I never had but wanted so bad.
I spent too much time in life trying to be responsible, dependable, agreeable enough. Waiting to receive love I felt if nothing else I earned. To be a martyr is not so bad if at some point seeds you plant, water flourish into acceptance longed for.
It is difficult being the reminder of the pain one parent inflicts upon another. With no control of negative experiences, different from your sibling because of complexion, smile, and physical features. There is an unrealistic, God like image in the child's mind left behind by the absent parent. Expected to defend, hide, or suppress love for a parent is immoral and traumatic.
What if we just do not fix this trauma? My sibling, three years younger than me I thought, loved me enough to demonstrate loyalty to me. I protected her when her husband abused her and moved her in to live with me. Give her time to get on her feet. Easy on the eye a model for a time a reflection of our mother. Opposite of me and how I longed to be. She fit the perfect role of the middle child. She is an expert at negotiation and compromise, especially in social circles. Her beautiful smile, quiet demeanor enhanced her being sought after in her role of social butterfly, peacekeeper.
My mother dressed sister and I in matching outfits as children. Every two weeks, mom would shampoo our hair in the tub, pressing our hair with the hot comb and bumper curled our hair with Shirley temple curls. When the three of us went to places like the laundromat or store no matter if she were sucking her saliva covered fingers with callous corn or not people would smile broadly and say, “You are so cute” and as an afterthought acknowledge me with a look and said, and so are you.
I felt like the outsider while living with my mother and sisters, not just because of complexion difference but because their love and acceptance of me was conditional. My father’s acceptance and love of me was not.
The video below may help to address some sibling issues.
Eldest girl my childhood notably, inconvenient I was sickly frequent asthma episodes and eczema, skin condition so bad that I was prone to infections, no doubt, another challenge for a beautiful young woman trying to raise three girls alone. Inability to breathe left me fearful that each attack would be my last.
I performed in a role neither requested or wanted as the surrogate parent. To be honest, I resented it. She had the parent she wanted to live with, and I did not. Time brings about a change. I grew into the role protecting, responsible, organized but always labeled as hard to have a good relationship with, nosey, too often heard and seen. Funny how I was not so problematic that either my lovely mother or sister would hesitate to move in with me.
The lack of reward for being responsible for a slow walking, finger sucking baby sister was distressing for me. Parents should not force siblings to parent children they have. I loved her but resented her too. She was the barrier attached to me that stopped me from exploring. Baby sister seldom had an interest in seeing or experiencing new things. Sucking her fingers, ready to take frequent naps was her docile focus. I once even talked her into letting me burn a place on her thigh so she could be part of a imaginary club at school.
Her manipulative betrayal hurt me, but it also taught me. She was never the sister I thought I had. Strangers will always be more valuable and important than me. How could she? Why would she hurt and humiliate me? She came to my house with Department of Children and family Services to remove the child I cared for loved since she was 9 months old.
Loyalty to a childless woman not of color, a business associate and lawyer turned friend she said. The woman, procurement officer for the mayor at the time informed me she wanted to adopt my chocolate baby for her husband. While babysitting for my child she was comfortable sending me videos as she instructed her to say over and over how much she loved her husband.
I asked my sister not to come to my home, but she came anyway and brought my mother along for good measure. Her presence added to the validity of the question in my neighbor’s mind. Did I abuse the child? Was I a bad foster parent, which would warrant my child being taken away? What if I do not want to fix it?
She betrayed an innocent dark complexion baby. Her crime as a child was, she looked like me. My sibling so vested in a woman not of color involved herself with DCFS against me in the adoption of this child. The woman of privilege did not call visit or check on the child for two years.
Memory makes me cringe and my skin tingles when I remember the caseworker said. What do you expect the agency to do when your own sister does not think the child should be with you? No, I think I will just let it be.
The woman of privilege said smugly to me, “if it was God’s will, she (the child) would not be with me.” I thought to myself we do not worship the same God. Quickly dismissed the thought because I knew my baby would need to be protected by my God that does not barter or sacrifice children to fill holes in the heart of empty women. I realize how inhuman and cruel she is because she will not allow me to talk to or see my child. This is the person my sister facilitated the delivery of an innocent child of color to.
Daddy predicted she would beat me, and she did in the worse way. I lost my baby, heart, sister reputation in my community all in the same day. But he was right, I have finally learned to let go of things and people I have no control over
now what