My sister’s crash out

 So I find myself incredibly curious about the science of crashouts…before the younger generation coined this perfect phrase, how did the world refer to such instances?

Diving deeper, when is a crash out actually valid? Are they ever? Who determines their validity? All these questions are surfacing because I recently had a pretty big one. A family one. I am sure you can relate, and if you can’t, I’ll draw up adoption papers for myself into your family. 

I crashed out on a my ‘niece’ who I have seen more as a sister given our closeness in age (1 year + 3 days, shared zodiac, shared interests, even a majority of your adolescent birthdays were celebrated together). 

Before I get into the crash out details, it feels most important to take a few steps back, and acknowledge the double decade long history that is my upbringing. For anyone who isn’t already keen on my background, I was raised by a single father. In a town of 2,000 people. My father is Hispanic, which would make you hyper curious why he chose to raise his black daughter in a predominantly white town. However, my older sister, my father’s first daughter, is white (and Mexican of course) but definitely white. 

So, in an effort to give his daughter a better life outside of Chicago and away from the tyranny and threat my mother posed, he moved us both to ~~and I wish I was being funny ~~ the butt fuck middle of Wisconsin where my sister resided with her husband and daughter. 

As I have prefaced, we moved for family, and I am sure that my father believed that no one could better advocate for the two of us, than family. And to certain extents, this held true. Marriages do have perks, because while married, my sister funded a house for my father and I to live in. It would come to be the only house I ever lived in till this very day. I’d say we lived there for 2 years before my sister couldn’t support both households anymore, and my single father couldn’t afford it either, that section 8 housing became our oasis. I vividly remember touring apartments and trailer parks. To me that life was normal, yet it wouldn’t take long for me to experience that ‘normalcy’ dwindle. 

Back to my niece, who grew up like a sister. Again, we celebrated birthdays together! We built forts. We picked up hobbies. She really was like an older sister, even introducing me to instagram. But then, we got to middle school. My niece made friends, and so did I. I would later down the line outgrow those friends, and as would she. However, the trauma lasted way longer than the friendships. 

The trauma being the countless days I would show up to school expecting my first friend (my niece, if the queue up to this point wasn’t obvious) to treat me as she did at home, like family. Yet, to my surprise, my first friend, was also somehow my first bully. I have this image burned in my brain of her titling her head up at me when I would say hi. I remember the confusion I felt, and I to this day believe that if your heart is in a good place it’s nearly impossible to catch on to the negativity that other’s are portraying. So of course I persisted. I would simply say hi again. I would try to make her laugh. And when I finally realized that her ignoring me had everything to do with her friends being around I got creative: I attempted to make her friends laugh. Unsurprisingly they were cold, disapproving, and plain mean. Later on in life she would ask me if we were friends to which I said no. She was hurt by this response and clearly had no idea that this learned behavior was borrowed directly from her. 

I like to believe our younger selfs can’t be held fully accountable given we were still learning the world. However, this rational doesn’t directly translate to healing the years of pain. I mean how does one not vividly remembering being ignored by their own family? How does one not internalize it and even become curious if the treatment had anything to do with being black, in a white school, attempting to speak to her white family member when she was around her white friends? If you’ve seen any 2000’s chick flick then you’ve seen this trope between the nerd girl and the popular guy. You sympathize so greatly for the girl who clearly had no idea a douchebag guy who is so in love with her in private, would treat her like crap in public. Well, that trope hits way too close to home. 

In summer of 2020, I got an apology. But unlike the intent of apologies, this one did more damage than healing. It was in tandem with the timing of the world’s marches, protests, and corporate DEI pushes, that she apologized for anything and everything she ever said in poor taste. And trust me, there was a fair share of it. Including a facebook messenger exchange (I even recently stumbled across) where I was asked 

“Why are you talking ghetto?”

So while her apology was more than warranted, as I reflect on it now, I am still so sad. Did it really require the WHOLE world coming to terms with injustice for my own flesh and blood to see me? The thought literally brings me to tears, now then, and in any of the moments where I allow myself to be vulnerable. Did she know that her apology which was motivated by her friends posting ‘BLM’ only made me feel worse? Or maybe it was that it came through in the form of a blue IMessage bubble.

There’s so much complexity to my childhood and my family in general. I am the only black person on my father’s side. I am reminded of this at every family holiday, and at every family member comment. Trust me, I’ve heard it all. To name a few highlights: My sister wants dreadlocks. My nephew thinks it makes sense that I wanted greens. My sister asks if I get tired of being the angry black girl. 

The irony and tragedy of being the ‘black sheep’ of the family is too good.

It doesn’t help that ‘sisters’ naturally experience a balance of ‘power’. If you interview sets of them, they will tell you themselves. All you have to do is ask: have you ever felt you lived in her shadow? Have you every felt she gets better treatment? Have you ever felt less favored?

Or maybe my own “yes” is so loud that I think other’s can relate. 

My best example isn’t too outdated. Last summer, my father got really sick. He’s had health troubles my whole life, yet this was the sickest I had ever seen him. I remember texting my niece that I needed a big hug on arrival. Because that is the nature of her existence, our relationship, and our family. I have to ask for sympathy rather than it being assumed that I would be in a great deal of pain knowing my only real parent was basically dying. 

Is it a surprise, I never got the hug? Instead, the morning after she had arrived I got “the bed, I’m staying in is so uncomfortable. It hurts my back.” My sister volunteers the information that the good bed is in the room I picked. Mind you, when I did ‘pick’ a room it was by sister’s direction that I could stay in any room downstairs. I chose one that was closest to the bathroom. 

My niece proceeds to *tell* me she wants to switch rooms…

She wants to switch rooms…

Meaning she believes I deserve to feel uncomfortable. I am nearly 24 by this time, and I have found the better half of my own voice. 

So I tell her no. Wouldn’t you?

Better yet, wouldn’t she?

When I tell her this she’s unpleased. So unpleased in fact, that she promises she will switch rooms when I am gone…she will switch rooms with me while I am gone visiting my father at the hospital. 

So I’ll ask again: is a crash out ever justified? Am I valid to justify my own crash out?