The Silence of Sisterhood

Samantha - Prairie Du Rocher, Illinois
Entered on May 5, 2009

I was fourteen the first time my sister stole my boyfriend. He was my first love, my first kiss, my first heartbreak. I cried myself to sleep for days while she went out on dates with him. She stole him without a drop of guilt, without the slightest bit of hesitation. She was the risk taker. I was the level-headed one. I was obviously too level-headed.

I was also fourteen the first time I heard my sister talk about me behind my back. She was making fun of my dependence on her. I ran out of my classroom and cried in the bathroom stall. I can still hear her laughter through the thick walls. I was quiet and passive. She was out-going and unruly. I was obviously too quiet.

I believe that sisterhood will outlast the feuds of time. Throughout the years my sister Savannha and I have been in fierce competition with each other. We’ve gone to the point of sabotaging each other over jealously and insecurities.

Savannha is my younger sister by eleven months. We’ve been best friends since birth. We shared a room, clothes, friends, and boys. I am more conservative, while she is willing to break the rules. The day my sister chose her friends over me was the day I realized that I wouldn’t always come first to her. So, in turn, I lowered her down a notch on my list of loves, dealt with the sting of betrayal, and took the hint. Savannha would not always have my back like everyone said family would. She’s my sister, but she’s also a teenage girl who, not only viewed me as competition, but also as a weak link.

Savannha and I dealt with our feuds with silence. We didn’t talk for nearly a year. Keep in mind that we lived in the same house and went to the same school. The only words we shared were of hatred and abuse. We ignored each other to the point of complete obviousness. We would take longer routes at school and schedule our showers so we wouldn’t have to see or God forbid even talk to each other.

In the end, it took a death to bring us back together. My mother died at the age of 42 from lung cancer. We leaned on each other like we should’ve all along. Savannha was 11 and I was 12, no one understood what we were going through. We only had each other. Now that I look back I realize what I could’ve lost: my sister, my flesh and blood, my best friend. Rumors, boys, and friends will always come and go, but sisters are forever. So I say with only the best of intentions, no matter what the reason or cause, sisterhood, or brotherhood for that matter, will outlast the fights, regrets, and silence. Just give it time. This I believe.