(Last one! Happy Halloween everyone!)
My sister says our mom killed her. My
mom says I do not have a sister.
Technically speaking, neither is wrong
and neither is right
My sister is not dead, but my mom does
kill her little by little by denying who she really is. Biologically speaking,
I do not have a sister, but if my sister says she’s my sister then, to me, she
is.
I feel for my sister, who suffers
endlessly in her male prison. Everyday is a struggle for her identity to be
recognized, and acknowledged for what it truly is: female. It’s hard watching
her cry because she wants to wear a tutu to school like all the other girls,
but my mom telling her to stop that nonsense and forcing her into a little
league uniform.
I tell her I love her, and when she was
forced to get a haircut, I made sure to buy her a wig she could wear in secret.
It was black with long curls and my sister was delighted. It made me happy to
see her eyes light up at such a simple gesture. That’s the thing though, what
she wants is so simple. Let her be. She’s one of the sweetest kids you’ll ever
meet, and she’s very funny (regardless of gender).
I’m worried though. Everyday her smile
is sadder, her laughter is quieter and her presence is smaller. So maybe she’s
more right than I thought, our mom is killing her.
Well, I simply won’t let her.
No comments:
Post a Comment