I almost had a sister once. It was remarkable how similar we were. Over the few years I got to know her, I came to understand that she was simply the immature version of who I used to be. If I had not had my life experiences, if I had not had my children, if I had not pushed forward; my guess is that she is very much ‘who’ I would have ended up like.
She was stuck in the angry teenage years where she blamed the world and her circumstance for all the issues and failures in her life. The more I talked to her, the more fascinated I became at her simplistic and warped view of every single things she thought she knew.
She self educated herself using pop culture and random internet sites and proclaimed in-depth knowledge of things she had a rudimentary understanding of at best. Her lack of understanding that she actually did not have anything of value to contribute, made it difficult at times to talk to her. Her inexperience and determination to not listen, made her ‘difficult’ to be around for long periods of time, simply because you had to keep things superficial, so no conflict developed.
I tried to guide her, give advice and to suggest alternative books or ways of discovering information, but nothing worked. It was like she had educated herself with old wives tales and was bound and determined to inform others about her revolutionary way of living in the world.
What I discovered about my almost sister, was that she was a fake activist. A fake feminist. A fake advocate. A fake everything. I moved and we had less contact. I tried to keep the relationship going for a time and through social media, but she was too selfish and self centered to reciprocate or engage with me. Eventually, I limited my contact to her birthday and her solstice events. I never heard back from her.