My Sister Loved Me, But I Treated Her Like Shit

I remember that day, as we were both walking to Elementary School. My oldest sister, just a bit over a year younger than me, trying to keep up. I didn’t want her near me. She kept trying to keep up, and I kept accelerating to keep her away. At one point, as I was frustrated, I yelled back, “Stop following me like a dog” (perhaps not exactly, but that was a long time ago, and this would be very close).

Yeah, I wish I could redo that day. But why did it ever come to this?

See, I wasn’t really rejecting her. I was rejecting what she looked like, and what she represented. I was rejecting our culture, what we lived with. I/we were raised not only Pentecostal, but by an incoherent zealot. Our father.

The boys had it a little better than the girls. The boys would wear the usual. Pants. Shirt. Shoes. Whatever.

The girls? They pretty much looked like something out of “Little House On The Prairie”. I say this, so you can understand. Long dresses, long hair, no makeup. But, not classy, no. Very dowdy. Button up to the collarbone, down to the ankles. Better not show a hint of the shape of the body inside. The hair must be styled plainly. Never, ever pants – much less shorts, t-shirt, etc.

I myself had to always wear a long sleeve shirt, and my hair was cut SHORT! Now I wear it short, but back then… it was the 70’s, man!!! Long hair was GROOVY! But even so, I did not stand out that much.

So as we were on our way to school, the association of her being my sister would lead to questions to me. About why we looked the way we did. Why we lived the way we did. And I hated it. Immensely.

Even at that young age, I cringed inside when I so hurtfully yelled at her. I regretted it the second it came out. But, still did not want her near me. I wanted to distance myself from the bullshit I was raised in, and be normal.

What I did not realize then, was that as bad as it was for me. It was 10 times worse for her.