3 Brothers, and a Sister’s Unique Perspective

People generally assume that a female child brought up in a predominantly male household would be treated as delicate as a new spring blossom. She would be coddled and looked after like a hawk by her male siblings. Though, the opposite has been true for me growing up with my 3 brothers but I don’t consider this a misfortune and rather a blessing that has shaped my life in immeasurable ways.

While each of them had distinct personalities ranging from mellow to comical to level headed they all had one thing in common: they were boys! Not just any boys but car obsessed, daredevil type of boys who at an early age rode dirt bikes, quads, motorcycles, monster trucks, seadoos, exotic cars, boats, and those classic cars that when started create a rumblling sound that rattles your brain in your skull. My dad also ran and still runs an auto-service business which only encouraged their desire to drive everything that had wheels. Now, I tend to lean towards the nurture side of the nature vs. nurture argument but I often wonder if the need for speed and a craving for gasoline isn’t an innate quality, sewed into my brothers’ DNA. I see the enthusiasm in their eyes when they try to convert me to driving a stick shift car. Naturally, my refusal is seen as a disgrace to my testosterone fueled family.

We were an immigrant family. I’ll admit, an eccentric one but like all immigrant families we were people who deeply relied on each other. We assimilated beautifully into our new culture but whenever we felt a little different, we could find comfort in knowing we were never alone because we had a tribe called, us. Seeing each other’s faces at recess in school would provide that reassurance when we felt out of place.

I’m smiling on National Siblings Day just thinking of their antics, accidents and adventures. I’m even smiling at the memories of fist fights we’ve had, name calling (just between you and me, they called me Dumbo for my rather large ears but I had creative names for them too) and the fun they poked at me for watching Saved by the Bell. Also, pestering me as I spoke to my friends on the phone; a skill they had mastered. While, any sadness or dare I say, weakness, I displayed was immediately preyed upon, I can say that I didn’t develop any emotional scars. Somewhere inside I knew their taunting was a way of distracting me from the difficulty at hand. The way lion cubs push and nudge at a wounded sibling to get her up and moving, again. In fact, I credit my emotional strength to the toughening up I practiced with my brothers.

While I benefitted greatly from being raised sans pink frills and bows, (not without incurring my brother’s points and laughs) I failed to understand the intricate subtleties of girl culture. Throughout my life, choosing directness instead of flowering every word in my approach to my female friends and co-workers has at times been seen as aggression. While I have made adjustments, my experience with my brothers has oddly empowered me to ask questions like, why are women who speak with conviction and authority viewed as aggressive when a man in the same situation would be seen as assertive and a go-getter? Perhaps, I haven’t lost anything from being raised amongst boys and rather gained a unique perspective on womanhood all together. Not to mention, all the insight into the male mind…no matter how buried it is under the masculine bravado.

Our siblings leave these curious tracks on our lives; each one incredibly unique. My elder brother for example, introduced me to the music of Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin. To think, if it wasn’t for him, I would have never heard the lyrics, “Castles made of sand, fall in the sea, eventually.” These lyrics still remind me that life should be fluid and rigidity is a crime against the self. He and I also spent our formative years closely and have similar principals and reverence for our heritage. The brother after me is the known entertainer in the family and lives his life fully but underneath his funny antics, he is more introspective than most know. He knows that while laughter is a gift to others, it is also a gift to the self; a reminder that life is illuminated by our own mood. My youngest brother is not like the typical baby of the family at all. He has always been the quiet observer, respects people’s individuality and smiles brightly. His level headed personality reminds me that silence isn’t empty and in fact, full of answers.

They sound tamer and not like The Three Stooges on wheels that I described earlier and that’s because they are that and so much more. Being witnesses to one another’s growth has both, shaped and connected us, deeply. Many times, my brothers and I have push started each other’s lives while growing up, without even knowing it. Siblings poke, pester, even hit below the belt at times but the unique exchange of knowledge, unconditional love and getting through childhood experiences together is a comforting bond, comparable to none.