Very few of us get the opportunity to form true friendships, relationships, and lasting bonds. Still very few of us get to have a best friend. I have been lucky—or blessed, depending on which religious denomination you subscribe to—to have formed a bond from birth. My twin sister and I were born 10 minutes apart. If you ask her who’s the older, she’ll quickly say she is. According to our culture though, I instructed her to “taste life and see how it is.” Because she never reported back on her findings, I felt compelled to leave the womb in search for her. I am, by all intents and purposes, the elder twin. Anyway, thus began our life.
Things weren’t always clear skies and butterflies. There was a time when I both loved and “hated” my twin sister. It wasn’t actual hate, but it was a false dislike rooted in competition. As a very young child, I saw her as my best friend and my greatest competitor. My dad told us stories about how furiously we competed. I don’t know if she saw me as competition, but I definitely saw her as a threat (insert Michael Jordan meme here).
Let me tell you about the ordeal of learning how to walk...
My twin sister began walking before I did. I crawled before she did; she was a terrible crawler. My dad said she didn’t really crawl, she scooted around. I crawled around like a grand champion, though. He pressured us both (somehow we were able to fully understand and comprehend what was at stake) to begin walking by our first birthday, or there would be no birthday party. I partially understood the assignment. I started standing, but I wasn’t willing to do more than that. My sister, on the other hand, started to walk. Once the attention shifted away from the master crawler, to the newly minted walker… I was livid. It became personal for me (Michael Jordan voice). To shorten a longer story, I began walking a little while after my twin showed me it was possible.
I wish our dynamic had remained that way—one of us showing the other what is possible to achieve, and the other following suit. I wish that my father hadn’t poisoned our competitive natures by constantly pitting us against each other. It wasn’t until junior high that we were consistently in the same classes at school. Prior to junior high school, my parents had pleaded with school administrators to place us in separate classes. This sick dynamic continued on for decades, unfortunately.
My oldest best friend was always several steps ahead of me when it came to getting my father’s approval. I resented her for so long when she “chose” to accept his praise, rather than choosing” to reject it. Why didn’t she stand up to him and highlight the fact that my dad wasn’t giving me any? Why didn’t she stand up to him and tell him to treat me better? Why didn’t she stand up for me? Better question: Why didn’t I stand up for myself? It wasn’t her fault that she was born a girl. It wasn’t her fault that she was his favorite. It wasn’t her fault that he took all of his frustrations out on me. It wasn’t my fault either. My dad—like most African men—was much softer on my sisters than he was on me; physically, mentally, and emotionally. As the years went on, he began to also torment my sisters emotionally, but he terrorized me for years. It took a long time before I realized that we were all victims.
In the past, I often wished my twin sister and I had never gone through that strife. Now that I’m older and a bit wiser, I believe it was all necessary. When I look at her, I still see my oldest friend and first adversary. The only difference is that I no longer view her as my competition. I stopped competing with her many years ago. I realized some time ago that her motive in life wasn’t to dominate her twin brother in all things. Absolutely not. She worked so hard so she could provide for her family. Her motive has always been family. Her methods were different from mine, and admittedly, I don’t always understand why she does the things she does, but she is a great person.
Another thing I realized in life is that there is an abundance of things in this world. She and I are not playing a zero-sum game anymore. If she gets praise and success, that does not mean I am not getting any. For my sister to win, I do not have to lose. I love it when she wins. When she wins, I win. I brag about her a lot, and more than I would like to admit to her. I have long since accepted that she and I are on totally different paths. Without the adversity and friction in our relationship, I would never have learned how much she values my opinion. I would never have learned how much she loves me and how fiercely she would fight for me. She has shown me time and time again—and will continue to show me—what is possible in life. I just pray that all of the work I’ve been putting in, behind the scenes, pays off and she can see that I’m not just a dreamer. I want her to be as proud of me as I am of her.
