Sister

My sister hated dresses, fought with the boys, and chose toy cars over dolls. She wore her hair short and chose clothing that exuded little femininity. "Don't worry, she'll grow out of it," the religious community would say to my parents. So, they waited patiently, not wanting to fully acknowledge that perhaps her sexuality was something other than heterosexual, as they allowed her to pick Hot Wheels at the toy store, but still stuffed her into pink dress for church on Sundays.

My sister's sexual abuse started when I was first born. This man had a wife, a daughter, and regularly attended church, so there was nothing to suspect, as he found ways to be alone with my sister in his car, his house, and even within our own home. The abuse lasted a year before my sister finally told my parents, who quickly reported it to the church. Instead of getting outside forces involved, such as the police, the church decided to handle it themselves, which meant my sister being forced to come face to face with her abuser, while giving a detailed account of what he'd done to her. This all occurred while my parents and a couple of church leaders also sat in the room. After that, the leaders would determine if he was repentant or not, and could stay in the church. It came as no surprise that he'd been allowed to stay, and that he'd repented many more times after this, allowing him access to countless victims.

I hadn't been aware of my sister's abuse till years later, but I do remember Mom warning me to stay away from one specific man when I was around six years old. She'd crouched down beside me in the church, pointed at the man across the room and said, "No matter what he says, never go anywhere with him." Then she squeezed my hand super tight. "Promise me, Ellie." She even went as far as putting a secret password in place, that the person would have to say first, before I was allowed to go anywhere alone with them. Fortunately, my sister's abuser never targeted me, but he did continue to have his eye on my sister, right up to the age of 16, when he'd tried to force himself on her one night, as she worked alone in a store.

My sister suffered immensely after the abuse, having never been given any counselling to help work through it. She'd blamed herself, and our family was the type that swept matters under the rug, especially in areas where the church held all the control. We didn't dare go up against it, even when the rules made little sense, and caused more harm than good. So, my sister suffered in silence, with her battling a deep depression through her teen years, and developing a severe eating disorder that lasted for years. If she couldn't control her environment, at least she could control the food entering and leaving her body. Because of our large age difference and her leaving home when I was 9, I only have snippets of memories of her as a teenager, and she was either angry or sad.

Though my parents attempted to protect me and my sister, there continued to be naivety. I was allowed to regularly sleep over at my friends' houses, a teenage boy had been allowed to babysit me once, and we continued to have an array of single men and women from the church in our home, who joined us for regular dinners and games nights. One of those singles was a 34 year old bachelor, who'd struck up a friendship with my mother, as he graced our dinner table and played tennis with us on the weekends. He'd even been allowed to take me to a clown show at a local theatre one evening alone. However, it wasn't me he was interested in, but my sister who'd just turned 18. After taking me out, he asked if it would be okay if he took my sister out for dinner as well, which to my Mom seemed equally as innocent due to her young age. But, as soon as my sister returned from dinner, it was clear that there'd been a shift, and that romantic feelings had formed. Though Mom tried to stop the relationship, it was too late, and six months later they were engaged, followed by a wedding a year later.

After the wedding, everything changed. Now that he'd gotten my sister, there was no reason to keep up appearances. His newfound cruelty towards my mother was especially hard to watch, with him constantly picking on her until she'd burst into tears. According to my sister, he treated her well, but it was clear that he didn't like anyone else being in their world, and he definitely didn't like anyone getting too close to her. If anyone tried, he'd immediately attack, with many of us having unpleasant interactions with him, including myself.

Looking back, I'm doubtful that my sister knew what a healthy relationship was supposed be like, having been groomed by older men her whole life. Still, she'd managed to stay 15 years in this marriage, which I'm sure had been many years too long, just as mine had been. She'd separated from him shortly after my own parent's separation, after he'd tried to trip her down the stairs, as she hobbled on crutches from a self induced fall. She'd shown up on my doorstep crying, telling me she couldn't take his cruelty anymore, and so she packed her bag and came to live with me and my husband temporarily.

No one in the church liked my sister's husband much. He insulted people, he made fun of them, and working in the tax department of the government, he went after a number of them. He loved the power and control over others, and due to this, my sister had received more sympathy than normal from the leaders of the church when she'd announced her separation. Still, it hadn't given her a free pass to divorce and move onto another relationship, with her reminded that their marriage vows were still in place, whether they lived together or not. The only thing that would officially break the vows was adultery or death, and if it was adultery, they'd not be welcomed back into the church, leaving my sister in complete limbo as my parents had been.

This may have seemed easier than living with a terrible person, but it wasn't long before it was taking its toll on my sister. I hadn't been out of the church very long myself when my sister showed at my apartment crying. "I can't do it anymore," she said, flopping on my couch, "I'm leaving!"

I had no idea what that meant, as she'd already left her husband. "Leaving what?" I asked.

"The church."

Never in a million years would I have guessed that my sister would leave the church. As much as she'd had terrible experiences, she'd continued to hold onto her faith. "My protector," she once said, when describing her relationship with God. Now here she was willing to leave it all behind in order to gain her freedom. The question was, would she truly be able to free herself for good, or would she eventually be pulled back in? For now, I wasn't going to worry about that, as my sister was finally free, and now she'd be able to explore who she truly was beyond the abused little girl stuffed in pink dresses. For the first time I had hope, real hope for the future, and now I had my sister by my side, and together we could conquer anything.