I have a sister and her name is Emilee June.
Emilee is three years older than me. There is no part of my childhood that isn’t characterized by the relationship we share. I wore her clothes and read books that she liked. I kicked her in the stomach when she yanked my hair and I signed up for drama class because she was magnificent on stage. When our mom went through breast cancer treatments—she was the only person whose presence was like a big gulp of air.
There is nothing extraordinary about our relationship. We are two sisters living in a country with more than 330 million people, where 80% of people share a sibling. But so much of who I am is because of Emilee, and if that’s so, then so much of who other people are must be because of their sisters.
One day, while I perused the ninth floor of my college library, I found a small book with a silver title that read Sistering: Power and Change in Female Relationships by a professor named Melanie L. Mauthner. Inside this book, I found a description I didn’t know I was looking for—the word “sister” as a verb. Mautner writes, “I am interested in how women do sistering rather than passively experience it as an institution or structure.”
Similarly curious about how women do sistering, I started speaking with siblings living nearby. What follows are five snapshots of sisters and their stories—an amalgam of elements that explore what it means to be a sister, beyond just having a sister.
Ireland and Kala are their mother’s daughters.
Tenacious, kind and with keen eyes for vintage antiques—they take after their mother Robin Shute, who raised her four kids as a single parent. Born triplets (their brother Smith completing the trio), with an older brother Cole, the siblings had an unconventional childhood, although one filled with a lot of joy. “Most of the time it was kind of just us at home to do whatever we wanted,” Ireland explained. Their mother was never one to limit their creativity. She let them wear their hair long, layer shorts over pants and decorate the Christmas tree with Pokémon stuffed animals and magnets from the fridge. After school, they’d take turns jumping from the garage roof onto a mattress several feet below. “We would just climb up and down and up and down and jump off and jump off a million times,” Kala said. “She would humor us, trust us,” Ireland said. “It was always very, very fun. We had a lot of shenanigans growing up.”
With their mom working multiple jobs and long hours to support them, the siblings adopted a survival mentality early on. Feed yourself, do your laundry and get yourself to school. “I think it was every man for himself, like survival of the fittest,” Kala said. While they learned to be independent from a young age, the girls still grew up as close friends and coworkers of sorts. They acted and modeled together as infants and into their younger teenage years. “People would always call us the twins, even though we were the triplets,” Kala said. “Most of our modeling things were always like ‘We want the two, the blond and the brunette, the sisters.’”
Frequently occupying the same spaces developed a competitive edge between the sisters. While they both participated in sports, student government and cheerleading, their interests weren’t always the same. “We always have been fundamentally really different people, but we just never had the capacity to be separate because it's kind of impossible for one woman to take me to soccer and her to ballet,” Kala said. “It made it a lot easier logistically to be doing the same things, even if we didn't like the same things.”
Despite the competition, Kala and Ireland grew up close, both in friendship and proximity. “We also shared a room from the time we were born until college,” Ireland said. “We’d been living within 10 feet of each other for 18 years, for our whole lives.” Living so close together allowed them to skillfully acquire ways to push each other’s buttons. Bickering was a natural language. In early high school, they started to make friends across different groups. Then in 2017, at 15 years old, their mother Robin unexpectedly passed away from cancer.
The grief was heavy. “We were the love of her life,” Ireland said. “She definitely treated us like we were.” The siblings moved into a temporary guardianship home, where they became closer, bound by the shared loss in their lives. They continued to focus on their goals, just as their mother always had. This meant keeping up with schoolwork and showing up to extracurriculars. They moved forward in the face of heartbreak, seeking support from each other and their independent friend groups. “We tried to maintain a childhood spirit despite everything being so grim,” Kala said.
In 2019, the triplets were accepted into USC. Later this year, they were adopted by a family in their community. While still close, the girls felt ready to live apart. “I wanted to emphasize us getting independent lives so that we could figure ourselves out,” Kala said. Now 21 and living down the street from one another, Ireland and Kala are learning how to slow down. “I think I have definitely gotten better about letting myself rest and not just like work, work, work, work, work all the time like my mom did,” Ireland said. Their relationship is now shaped by a sense of stability they didn’t have as kids.
“We had to rely on each other for everything, for survival, basically. And now we don't have to. So it's more of a typical sibling relationship that most people had when they were younger,” Kala said. “We have had the opportunity to work on the emotional part and actually just hanging out and having fun,” Ireland continued.
On days spent together, the girls enjoy antique hunting for furniture. They turn the subtitles on when they watch television shows together, just like their mother always did. Sometimes they’ll pull out boxes of family photos and laugh through old stories, remembering childhood years filled with a magical sort of chaos and a nostalgic togetherness.
"Kala, Smith and I were together when we were born, and there's just an innate closeness that we always have and an understanding of each other that we have that I think a lot of siblings don't. I think that brought me a lot of peace and a lot of closure when my mom died. I think it brings me a lot of peace now, knowing that someone, even if we had different experiences, understands on some level what it was like for that to have happened."
-Ireland
"Things that relate to a mother daughter relationship, we both lost it together. So I think that it was something we could rely on each other for. Like can you do my hair, can you look at my outifit, can you come look at my graduation pictures or look at my prom pictures? So we had somebody that got to be that womanly figure for each other, even though we're the same age ovbiously."
-Kala
"Of two sisters one is always the watcher, one the dancer."
-Louise Glück
Masha and Polina don’t always use words when communicating with each other.
The sisters live together in a two-bedroom apartment on a quiet street near the University of Southern California. Polina’s keyboard is nestled into the corner of the living room. Masha also uses this space to practice her choreography. While their chosen art forms differ, they maintain immense respect for each other's unique talents.
Their mother, a graphic designer, raised them in a creative household. Polina did choir as a young girl and quickly took to the piano. Masha could never sit still; by the time she was eleven, she was pursuing ballet with an unfaltering determination. “What was interesting is how we split the arts amongst each other,” Masha said. “I’m interested in music and I love it and think it’s amazing. But I don’t really want to pursue it. Polina doesn’t want to pursue dance, but she has a respect for it,” Masha said.
Polina was born in a small Russian town near Moscow. Her parents moved to Columbus, Ohio when she was 11 months old, where they had Masha. Unlike the friends' houses they visited, their apartment contained no colorful cereal boxes and the only way to watch Disney Channel was after school on YouTube while their parents were at work. As young girls, they wished for typical American names, like the ones their classmates had. But as they fell in love with their respective artistic practices, they felt encouraged to explore their own self-identity. “When I started becoming more serious about piano, that's when I also started getting more in tune with Russian culture,” Polina explained. Similarly, as Masha advanced in ballet, she developed a deeper pride in her family’s ancestral roots.
Growing up, Masha admired everything about her older sister. She would watch Polina draw and try to copy the steps. If Polina liked a song, Masha did too. It was ballet that developed her stronger sense of self and allowed their sister dynamic to evolve into a close companionship. “We knew what we had and what we were good at,” Masha said. “We were just generally interested in the person, not just as a sister, but as a person.”
As they got older, Polina also felt her relationship transcending that of an older sister. “The best friend thing started coming when I realized friends would come and go. But then, she was always there, and who's the one constant person in your life who will never leave?” she said. Their family moved to California in 2014. Polina studied communications and piano performance at the University of California, Los Angeles and then earned a master's degree in piano performance and arts journalism at the University of Southern California. Masha started her freshman year at USC in 2018, but after her first semester, she received an offer to dance for a ballet company in Russia. Her lifetime’s worth of work opened an opportunity for a professional dance career; the discipline, regimented schedules and tenacity paid off.
Even with Masha living in Russia, the time difference and the grueling lifestyle, the girls remained close. For Polina, this was an opportunity to learn what life was like without Masha nearby. “When she left, I had to become more independent. I had to build a life for myself here on my own,” she said. Simultaneously, Masha’s dance career was reaching new heights.
Then, in 2020, the unimaginable happened—Masha was diagnosed with leukemia. “It was really hard on my family,” Masha said. “For Polina, I’m her other half right?” Masha moved back to California, where she underwent rigorous medical treatment while simultaneously grieving the life she built in Russia. Polina was determined to support her in any way possible. Some days this meant giving her space. On other days this meant having difficult conversations. She was able to navigate this balance with a sensitivity that other family members and friends struggled to understand. “It was a challenge for me, but I feel like I was always trying to help her see what kind of life she could have here and how it could be,” Polina said. “There was just a very big emphasis on having to help her see that she could do something else other than just ballet."
To get through treatments, Masha held onto the promise of a life with her sister in Los Angeles; a life that is now filled with beautiful moments. On their favorite kind of day, Polina and Masha wake up early to go to the beach, where they’re teaching themselves to surf. Afterward, the two will grab a latte or a cappuccino at a cafe. They coexist together as sisters, friends and artistic collaborators. If their relationship faces any challenge, it’s pushing themselves to spend more time apart.
Masha is now out of treatment and in remission. She continues to nourish her talents through different projects and opportunities, while Polina grows in her own relationship with art and storytelling. The central truth of their sisterhood is knowing they are stronger together. “Her outlook on life teaches me a lot because I am emotionally not as intuitive,” Masha said. “I think Polina helped bring back what life is really about for me.”
"I admire the amount of love Polina can give, because it's something I really struggle showing, and I admire how openly she can show it in a good way."
-Masha
"Growing up, I've always admired how she's just so resilient. If she wants to do something, she will do it. No matter what it takes. I'm motivated in certain ways, but not as much as Masha is. She will do anything.”
-Polina
"Is solace anywhere more comforting than in the arms of a sister?"
-Alice Walker
“We use this statement which is from the Old Testament—going, not knowing. Abraham went going, not knowing,” Sharon explained, referencing words that guided her and Jeanie through challenging times. The two of them know beautiful things lie on the other side of one step of faith.
Jeanie and Sharon grew up alongside their brother and third sister in a close-knit family, enveloped by the love and joy their mother Peggy radiated. Affectionately known as Mommy, Sharon and Jeanie beam with pride as they recall decades of memories. “I am mother’s baby,” Sharon said. “Mommy spoiled her,” Jeanie followed up.
Mommy was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in 2010. She lived in the four-unit apartment building that Sharon owns and lives in as well. When her needs required more intensive support, Jeanie moved in with Mommy, just downstairs from Sharon, so they could care for their mother together. “The caregiving was just an extension of loving Mommy and doing what we needed to do,” Jeanie explained.
Caregiving unlocked new layers of strength within their relationship as sisters. They choreographed their own kind of dance, focusing on the different strengths they both brought to the table. “She was more hands-on. Bathing Mom, cooking and all of that,” Sharon said. “I'm more, as she said, the business person. So it just worked.” Even though arguments between the sisters are few and far between, caregiving wasn’t without challenges. “We laugh and everything, but being retired from law enforcement, I tell people, taking care of my darling mother with Alzheimer's made law enforcement look like patty cake. It is no joke,” Sharon said.
In February 2014, Sharon and Jeanie had a lot on their plate. They worked full-time jobs in addition to being caregivers to Mommy and their first cousin they called Aunt Lorraine, who was also battling Alzheimer's. Adding to this, Jeanie’s granddaughter was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Understandably overwhelmed, Jeanie and Sharon found themselves with a fork in the road: bear the weight of the situation with their heads down, or find a way to cope in a more dynamic way. They opted for the latter. That's how Actively Caring Through Sharing (ACTS), a caregiver support group, came to fruition.“We had just learned so much that we just needed to share the information,” Jeanie said.
Sharon and Jeanie decided to pioneer a venture that would not only create a framework for themselves, but draw up a rubric for those who—inevitably—would come after them. “We worked well together as a family, which we know is not the norm.” Sharon said. Building the nonprofit presented new challenges, but they hung tight to their faith—continue going, even without knowing the exact path forward. Their deep trust in each other was critical to the conception and growth of ACTS. They tapped into that innate understanding of their own strengths and weaknesses. Sharon handled the paperwork and the details of the business, while Jeanie utilized her creativity and knowledge of hands-on caregiving.
Inside of ACTS, educational pamphlets line the walls. One room holds wheelchairs and adult diapers among other community donations. Jeanie’s art hangs on the walls, brightening the space, and handwritten thank you cards from group members convey deep gratitude to Sharon and Jeanie for ensuring they did not walk their caregiving journeys alone.
The sisters share the same commitment to their community. They ensure each monthly support meeting takes place. They still hosted the support group days after Mommy passed away in 2016. When Sharon was diagnosed with cancer three years ago, she made sure her chemotherapy treatment didn’t conflict with the meeting date. They host the meetings on holidays. They drive donations to people in the rain.
The impact they’ve made together is far-reaching. “It really has been rewarding and a pleasure just to think that two older ladies late in life could start something like this,” Jeanie said. Sharon continued, “I like being able to give the caregivers something very special because as caregivers, we are the most underappreciated people.”
"Sripture says can two walk together unless they be agreed? So we're in agreement about having a support group, that it would be a premier support group, that we would feed the people. So we're in agreement. Our values align, definitely."
-Sharon
"We're just an extension of Mommy is really what we are. We're just an extension of what Mommy would be doing if she if she was here.
-Jeanie
“Sibling relationships outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust.”
-Erica E. Goode
On Sunday mornings, Terquoise and Ivory grew up watching cartoons together.
They enjoyed He-Man, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Ghostbusters and Garfield. As kids, they played games with imaginary characters and experimented with makeup. They loved going to Disney World, listening to Michael Jackson and reading books together, like “Little House on the Prairie.” In many ways, their childhood years in Long Beach were filled with the magic of youthful companionship. In other ways, their dynamic was unique, as Terquoise took on roles more commonly associated with an older sister despite being two years younger.
Ivory was born significantly premature. After experiencing a host of complications while in the hospital, she developed an intellectual and developmental disability. “We didn't do a lot of the physical games that kids normally would do,” Terquoise said. “Ivory actually had really big braces that go all the way from your feet, your ankles, all the way up to your waist,” she explained. The braces helped strengthen her legs as she learned to walk.
Ivory endured numerous surgeries, including the amputation of her arm. “She's had a lot of surgeries and medical stuff, and she's still very, very positive. She's also very, very social. She has way more friends than me,” Terquoise said. “I’m way more introverted.” Now, Ivory lives with their mother and stepfather in Georgia, while Terquoise works as an Instructional Aide in Special Education for the Garden Grove Unified District in California. When she began the job in her early 20s, she brought years of valuable experience to the role. “I'm already used to helping somebody get dressed or go to the restroom or just making sure that they stay safe,” she explained.
The sisters make time for each other on weekly Zoom calls. “We watch movies together,” Ivory said. “We watch Scooby Doo, we watch Star Trek. What else do we watch, Terquoise?” she asks her sister. “We watched Wednesday Addams, remember? We watched all of that,” Terquoise responds. They won’t be a country-width apart from each other forever. When their mom can no longer provide care for Ivory, she plans to move back to Southern California and live with Terquoise. “I do realize that that's not typical for most younger people to always have that in the background,” Terquoise said. “Eventually, I'm going to have to have a place where my sister can go.”
Ivory’s mother, Synthia Abdul-Haqq, is her primary caretaker. She cares deeply about the relationship between her daughters. “I want Ivory to remember they are peers, they’re sisters, but eventually they will live together and Terquoise will have to take on some of the things that I have done. And I want Ivory to listen to her. Because she trusted that I wouldn't have put her in charge if I didn't think she was capable.”
Terquoise joined the California Sibling Leadership Network in 2018, a community for adult siblings of people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. Here, she’s found practical resources on the financial and legal implications of guardianship and a larger community of people who understand her unique experience as a sibling. “From what I understand, a lot of us have secondary Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or chronic PTSD,” Terquoise said. “I find that there's not even a lot of research about the trauma for people that see their sibling go through something medically traumatic.”
California Sibs helped Terquoise find resources she anticipates she and Ivory will benefit from. “We might have to see if she's going to need support later because who knows how she's going to react when my parents aren't there,” she said. The support network advocates for the well-being of siblings by connecting them to important therapy resources, like grief counseling.
Now, Terquoise works on building a life that can honor her needs, alongside her sister’s. She teaches, reads and draws. Ivory helps her mom, who has returned to college to pursue a degree in psychology. She also enjoys coloring. They both love the color purple. Terquoise continues to be an advocate for her sister, not shying away from difficult conversations about the future. “I know my sister has been sad about it, that she can't have any kids. She's not going to get married,” Terquoise said. “She's not going to be completely independent ever.”
She’s dedicated to making sure the feelings of her sister are seen and supported, having witnessed the emotional experiences of disabled people belittled far too often. “The mental health, the emotional health of people with disabilities, that is a huge thing that's not being addressed enough, in particular with ones that have intellectual and developmental issues like my sister.”
"I like Terquoise a lot, my sister."
"Yeah but what do you like about me Ivory?"
"What?"
"Why do you like me?"
"Because I like you, because you're my sister. My baby sister."
"I'm an English major. I like writing things down. So I have a lot of journals and notebooks. Probably too many notebooks. And I think one of the ways eventually I'd like to use my experience is eventually I'd like to have some kind of journalistic magazine, possibly for people like Ivory or for the families, because I don't think there's a lot of resources in that area."
-Terquoise
"A sister can be seen as someone who is both ourselves and very much not ourselves; a special kind of double."
-Toni Morrison
Emily and Jessica grew up attached at the hip.
Born 11 years apart, their middle sister Jennifer in between them, Jessica took on a motherly role early in Emily’s life. “I am the oldest and I always grew up as being the caretaker of them when my parents weren’t around,” Jessica said. If she had plans to hang out with friends or go on a date with her boyfriend, her baby sister was more than likely by her side. While her parents worked, she helped get Emily up in the mornings and made sure she got to school.
As the oldest and youngest, their childhoods were shaped by different circumstances. Jessica was born in Mexico, where she lived for seven years before moving to Compton, California with her parents and younger sister Jennifer. She was placed directly into a second-grade English-speaking class, despite never learning the language before. After school, she sought the help of her uncle, who lived in the same apartment complex and spoke English. With his support, she taught herself the language.
Jessica wanted Emily to have a different educational experience. As a child, Emily remembers her sisters making time to read books with her. “Maybe because you didn’t have the best experience, you were kind of helping me out,” she said to Jessica.
Despite being farther apart in age, Jessica and Emily forged a closer relationship with each other than with their middle sister. “She was the favorite, to say the least,” Jessica said through laughter. “I guess that pushed us to be closer,” Emily continued. The three girls shared a room growing up, and disputes over shared closets and borrowed clothes were common. Their room added another member when Jessica had her son at seventeen and temporarily moved back home. “It was all three of us, all three girls in a room, and this little one causing hectic drama, too,” Jessica said of her son. “It was never subtle. It was never quiet.”
The motherly support that Jessica extended to Emily was helpful to her in more ways than one. Together, they were able to discuss periods and body hair. It was Jessica who took Emily shopping for bras. She provided a space free of shame for Emily to discuss body image insecurities. This transparency was empowering. “I feel like we’ve shared a lot of similar struggles in that sense,” Emily said. “I definitely find a lot of solidarity and comfort in knowing that I’m not alone.”
After moving out of their childhood home and embarking on independent lives, they’re finding ways to stay close despite the increased distance. “Our relationship has become like a sisterly bond where we can just tell each other anything, and how we feel, and how we reacted,” Jessica said. “You rely on your sister to hear you out, whether or not they can provide you with advice.”
Their personalities as sisters mirror traits they inherited from their parents. Emily is quiet and calm like their dad, whereas Jessica takes after their mom. “I have that explosive attitude,” she said. The past two years have presented unique challenges for the sisters, as they’ve navigated through complicated family dynamics in ways that independently make sense for them. Jessica hasn’t communicated with their mother in over a year, whereas Emily is trying to build stronger relationships with her parents. “I feel like because we come from a family-oriented background as Mexicans, it's kind of like your family is your family no matter what,” Jessica explained. “I had to learn to cut people off if I don't like them, if they're not treating me right, or whatever.”
Despite having different relationships with their parents—when it comes to being a sister to each other—loyalty means everything. Emily has keys to her sister’s house, where she’s free to show up unannounced. They call each other when they need an ear to listen. “She's always going to be there regardless of anything. She’s stuck with me,” Emily said. Jessica responds with a smile, “I have been since day one.”
"I just love how encouraging she is to fulfill what she wants to fulfill in life. If she has a goal to be whatever it is, she's going to work herself to it. And in all reality, if we're frankly speaking, she doesn't necessarily ask anybody for help in regards to when it comes to her school, her studies and what she wants to get out of life."
-Jessica
"I feel like on my end, I think I definitely want to someday be able to repay everything that you’ve done."
"You have, Sister."
-Emily
“A paradox of sistering is the absence of any specific definition or language with which to describe it. Unlike motherhood, marriage, and the ‘family,’” Mautner writes, “Sisters lack their own social institutions or representations in the public sphere.”
Sharing the stories of sisters is one small way to celebrate the significance this relationship holds. It helps to distinguish circumstance from action. To have a sister is a description. To be a sister is a verb; it requires care through grief and triumph, heartbreak and resilience.
I have a framed quote on my wall by the widely known 14th-century Persian poet Hafiz. “Your heart and my heart are very, very old friends.”
When I think of my sister, I feel lucky we have each other in this life and confident we’d find each other in another. So much of who I am is because of her.