I’m a twin!

Hello again! 

Back with another blog post, and this time I thought I’d delve into some introspection after a conversation I just had with one of the counselors from the Office of Admission about our similar upbringings. We’re both twins, sharing the unique duality of being an individual while constantly seen as part of a pair. This sparked an interesting discussion of the experience of having a fraternal twin: despite our differences—older vs. younger, brother vs. sister—we both understood the complexity that comes with always being half of a whole. 

I’ve talked about my sisters a few times in my blog posts—Kiana, my twin, and Melia, my younger sister. They’re probably the most important people in my life. I would consider them my anchors; who could understand me better than the two girls that I grew up with? Kiana and Melia were right there with me in each new country I lived in, becoming the only people my age I would never have to leave behind as I navigated new homes and schools and languages. Saying goodbye over and over again was never easy—but we were each other’s constants in a life defined by change. 

When discussing the bond I share with my sisters it’s impossible for me to not mention the unique experience I have as a twin. Kiana and I were born in Alexandria, Virginia, before together being whisked away at 2 months old to live in Gaborone, Botswana—our first time moving (and far from our last). Since then we’ve shared bedrooms, birthday parties, friends, teachers, routines; we lived our first 18 years side-by-side in unfamiliar cities that became our homes, constantly turning to one another for stability. 

There is no one out there that gets me quite like she does. She was there when I chipped my tooth skateboarding down a bowl with my dad in fifth grade and shared the role of Brigitta with me in our school’s 2016 production of The Sound of Music in El Salvador. We would read the same books one after the other, sometimes with me reading over her shoulder when I couldn’t wait for her to finish (she hated that). We learned to surf together at the beach near my grandma’s house—Baby Makapu’u—when we were kids, and in middle school we both got caramel highlights in our hair for our 14th birthday (a wild choice). We were always interested in the same things—our shared music and movie taste carried us far, allowing us to talk for hours on end about various forms of media and literature and our opinions on each. Every memory I have growing up belongs to her too. Few things I did were ever done alone; it is so comforting to know there is someone out there that remembers the color of our shared childhood bedroom in Vietnam, the names of our shared best friends from first grade, our favorite foods at our favorite restaurants that have since closed. 

We’ve grown up a lot since then. She’s at Barnard studying film and Africana studies, while I’m at Wellesley studying American studies. 4 hours and almost 200 miles apart, college was the first time we’ve ever split. The night before we moved to New York and Boston, she and I watched Harry Potter in theaters (a revival screening!), holding hands in seats right next to each other. I felt like a little kid again. We were eighteen and all grown up, but for those two hours, we were just the same kids who used to watch these movies over and over again on DVDs in our living room halfway across the world. 

It’s hard for me to describe what it is like to navigate life as a twin when you are no longer spending every minute together—at times I feel such a sense of absence, knowing we are both living separate lives and on our own completely. At the same time, however, I feel some pride. We’re becoming our own people! Finally! No more lack of individuality. No more being referred to by friends and peers as the “twins.” No more being asked “which one are you?” (in a well-intentioned way of course, but nevertheless annoying). I feel I have the freedom now to explore who I am separate from Kiana and can build an identity for the first time that isn’t completely tangled up in hers. Right now she’s in Hawai’i still at home with my family (doing a film internship!), while I’m interning at the Office of Admission in Wellesley. This is the first summer we haven’t spent together (apart from our week-long reunion this month when I returned to Hawai’i), and it feels insane to not be with her right now—but I guess that’s what happens when you grow up. 

We take the time during the semester to visit each other, but it’s not the same as it once was. We no longer share the same life—when I visit her, I’m stepping into her world that no longer belongs to the both of us. She’s come up to Wellesley too (our first year she watched a Wellesley drag performance with me, staying in my dorm for a night! And she came to MarMon last year, cheering on the Boston Marathon runners with me and my friends during my favorite Wellesley tradition!), and in those moments, it almost feels like we’re back to the same rhythm and inseparable dynamic of our childhood. But there’s also this underlying bittersweet awareness that we’re simply guests in each other’s lives now.

I carry Kiana with me always, of course; she’s a text or phone call away, and we talk to each other so often it feels like she’s right there with me. But being a twin—which used to be at the core of my identity—is now simply a fun fact I mention in passing when I’m asked about my siblings or my upbringing. And I think that’s okay! Here at Wellesley, I’ve been able to figure out who I am outside of the pair I grew up in. I’ve made my own friends, discovered and pursued my own interests, and have been granted an independence I never knew I would have. And though I’m still trying to understand how to live a life that is solely mine, I know I’ll never really be alone. My twin and younger sister are my best friends!! And though we are apart (Kiana in New York, me in Wellesley, and Melia in California when she starts her first year of college next month), our bond is still something I value and will continue to hold close.

Until next week!

Bri❤️