I have no sisters. Nor brothers, for that matter. I’m an only child, with all of the stereotypical baggage that comes with it. Bossy, stubborn, over-thinking… That’s me. (And I am totally fine with that, btw. Hair flip emoji.)
As my parents decided not to give me any sisters of my own, I had to go searching for some. I found my first sister at kindy, my second sister at primary school and over the years I’ve been lucky enough to meet many more. We may not be blood relations, but we’re bonded together by laughter, tears, hugs, arguments and love.
Even to this day, women are socialised to view each other as competition. It happened at high school – that wonderful and terrible time – and it can unfortunately continue into adulthood. The difference, however, is that as adults we don’t have to play the game if we don’t want to. We can leave the playground without being given detention.
Jealousy, insecurity and suspicion don’t have to reign supreme. Drama can be minimised. One of the best things about adulthood is that you can be friends with the people you actually like and distance yourself from the people who drain your energy.
When it comes to getting through the strange conundrum that is living whilst female, shared knowledge and experience can be a huge bonus. Far from being ‘catty’ or ‘bitchy’, my sisters give tough love, wisdom, reality checks and gentle kindness.
And when shit happens – as it inevitably does – having a legion of sisters can make life immeasurably easier to bear. Big sisters to offer advice, younger sisters to offer a different perspective, twin sisters to give you a hug and pour you a bucket of wine.
Having a sisterhood can be the difference between a fucking terrible week and a fucking terrible week made better by empathetic, hilarious, wise women who care about you.
Thank the Goddess for them.