The Mask Project
Mask Essay:
Sibling Rivalries
My brother Kian and I are nothing alike. We never will be. It doesn't bother me as much as it used to. He is the smarter kid. His brain has always worked in ways that I could never understand. Ways I will never be able to work. I guess a huge part of my socialization was my brother. And my mom and dad. And well, everyone in my family. The geniuses that I grew up in the shadows of. Me? I'm different.
“Oh, this one’s obvious, Bangladesh.” My grandpa shouts. My dad agrees, and then the Jeopardy host does. I had no clue what the answer was. Not one. But so goes every day with my family. Political conversations about people I’ve never heard of. Math conversations about things I never understood. You’re smart Rio. Just because you aren’t your father doesn’t mean you’re dumb. Bullshit. It’s just things that people try to run through your head to make you feel better. Even if I got the best score on my math test in the class, or my teacher liked my essay, my dad could read it through, and edit and revise away, finding one million ways that I could get better. But there are so many things that you can do that they cannot. Neither Kian or Dad could even try aerial silks. They never learned to work like you did. Just more bullshit. How does being able to do something fun, or having to work really hard to do the things they could do in their sleep make me any bit as good as them? I am in constant competition. And I have no clue why. Maybe that’s just my genetic makeup. But nothing will ever be good enough for me. I will never be able to convince myself that I am good enough. Because whatever I can do, they could do better in a fraction of the time. So my brain is nothing like my family’s. I am not a true Edmondson, and I never will be. But that’s okay, because I’ve accepted that my father is a genius, and my brother is following in his footsteps, and I’m just... not. My brain is not mathematical. And sure, I could hold my own in my individual classes, but to them, I’m the dumber younger sister. I may do great things in life. I may make it to med school. I may become the best surgeon in the United States. But I will never be Kian.
When analyzing the agents of socialization, family has had the most influence on my beliefs, goals, outlooks, and my insecurities. On my father’s side of the family, everyone that I have met and known has a college degree; most have graduate degrees. Family gatherings consist of political debates, educational philosophy discussions, and topics that I generally do not have much to contribute to. But I’ve always been impressed by the knowledge, and have many strong female role models to look up to-women in law, chemistry, education and business. My mother was raised by a single mother who was raised by a single mother. As such, I have been bombarded since birth with disdain for the “helpless female” stereotype. Perhaps this is the root of where my relationship with my brother stems: I feel I must compete to prove my worth, and anything that feels subpar fuels my insecurities.
Growing up, I was always in a competition with my brother over everything. If he was better than me at something, then I didn’t want to do it. If I was better than him at something, then it was “Stupid and not worth his time”. So went the cycle. I never wanted to look like I was straggling behind, and neither did he, so we just didn't. Kian played chess, so I never learned how. I rock climbed, so Kian developed a fear of heights so he wouldn't have to come out climbing. We could never just have fun with each other, there was no way for that to happen. If you asked me why, I would have no clear answer for you. But, I know I never wanted to feel inferior to him, and I needed to constantly perpetuate my image of a strong, independent female.
Soon after Kian and I had started school, it became apparent that math was his thing. He seemed naturally gifted at the subject, and soon was joining into conversations with my dad and grandpa about concepts that sounded completely foreign and intimidating to me. Initially, I thought I too could excel at math. And to uphold my identity of a strong, successful woman, I felt I had to. How was I going to overcome the stereotype of women not being strong at math and science, if I shied away from it? But, unfortunately, I wasn’t confident in the subject. I wasn’t having the success that I felt was expected of me. I plummeted down a hole of hatred for math. Absolute detest. I labeled myself officially terrible at it. No question, I sucked. To make matters worse, I even had a teacher telling me that I sucked at it. Me, the child of a math prodigy, the sister of another, was horrible at math. It was terrible. Soul crushing. My identity was crumbling. My insecurity of feeling like the “dumb little sister” was taking over. But, I swallowed my sadness, and decided to focus on writing, still searching for an area that I could stake my claim, build my identity around, and escape the suffocating shadow of my brother.
From a sociological perspective, my relationship with my brother is not uncommon. Siblings are a powerful, and often underestimated, agent of socialization. According to a 2010 study at the University of Illinois, Professor Laurie Kramer, states, "There are many cases where younger siblings work very hard to carve out their own unique path and be different from their brothers and sisters, a process researchers refer to as 'de-identification.' They may choose a different path in which to excel or make their mark to base their own identity on. It relieves them from the pressure to be seen or compared to their elder sibling, particularly if they're afraid that they won't be able to measure up.” I was desperately searching for a foundation for my identity, separate from Kian’s successes so I didn’t have to worry about whether or not I could measure up. For me, everything has always been about creating a different path. Following in Kian’s footsteps meant feeling small, or inferior, which made me turn to anything I could.
When I got to 7th grade, I was required to compete in History Day. That was my brother’s thing. Off limits. But for once, I committed to ignore my limitations, and I took a leap of faith. Now of course I didn't write a paper (the category he had seen much success in), that would be too far out of the confines of my comfort zone in our war. I decided to make a documentary film, and I had so much fun with this project. I made it to the State competition. Video editing was becoming one of my things. Finally, after so much time of confusion and difficulty, I was building my own identity, separate from Kian's, completely my own.
In 8th grade, I continued to love video editing and created another History Day project. At the beginning of the project, I remember telling my teacher, “There have been six Escalante students to compete at Nationals for History Day. I want to be the seventh." Deep down, I felt that this was impossible. My brother, the smartest person I knew, hadn’t even accomplished that. But I let myself dream it. About four months after making that promise to my teacher came State awards. I was a finalist. So was my brother. The judges called third place for my category. It wasn’t my name. I had decided I wouldn't place. Then came second place. My name was called. My hands went immediately to my mouth. How did this happen? How did I do the impossible? But I did. It was this moment, I think, that I finally understood that my brother and I are not in a competition. We are simply existing on the same plane. We both win some, and lose others. The day that I made it to Nationals, my brother placed in third. He was an alternate. As proud as he should've been, he couldn't feel it because I had won our ‘competition’. This destructive world we had been living in as long as I can remember had cost my brother his self pride. How did we let it come to this? As we were driving home from Denver, I was glowing. But my brother was heartbroken. So no, I didn’t get to celebrate in that moment. Because of our war, I couldn’t be happy, and neither could he. We were holding each other by the neck, and as one walked in the direction of their success, they choked out the other. We suffocated slowly, and now, we are just that much more damaged. Our competition, I realized, had come to define our identities and our self worth due to an unhealthy family dynamic.
Family is one of the biggest agents of socialization, followed closely by school. My story is unique in that the two of them are intertwined. Having two educated parents has always meant that schooling was taken incredibly seriously. There was never a question of if when it came to college, only a question of where. I have always wanted to succeed in school, to show my family that I could do it, to grow into the strong, independent woman that I was told I needed to be. I subscribe to the memory theory, meaning it is my memories and my brain that make me who I am, perhaps because I was trained to believe school and knowledge were the most important aspects of a successful life.
As I get older, I begin to see the toxicity of my previous actions. I’ve begun to understand it. I can identify the damage that has been done, both to me and to my brother. I can even identify how destructive this all is. Through all of the love I have received from my family, pockets of self doubt and anger poke through. This ongoing war with my brother is disgusting. And yet, somehow, I can’t stop competing. It’s like an addiction. No matter how hard I try, I can’t break the cycle of trying to outdo my brother, and feeling crushed when he outdoes me. I still feel devastated when I hear my family make fun of me. When they call me dumb or say, “Wait, you didn’t know that? Really?” No one means to hurt me. No one knows that they are, but each little comment that they make about me peels away a layer of my confidence. This is how I live, and it feels like it will never change. But I am reminded of the concept of the Ship of Theseus which grapples with the questions of: Are we the person we were when we started the journey, or the one we are when we finish it? If piece by piece, our personality is changing, how does that tell us who we are? Before I learned my worth, I was one person. Now, I am another. Which one is me? Am I both? And this gives me hope that my relationship with Kian will evolve positively over time, and our dynamic will morph, leaving us as a little bit of both-competitors and team mates, in the future.
Reflection:
This semester we took a deep dive into sociology and what makes a person who they are. We started off by learning important vocab and concepts to better understand the study. We learned about norms, cultures, subcultures, fungibility, memory theory vs. body theory, and so much more. Then, we looked into the Ship of Theseus. The ship that sailed on a journey, and then slowly, piece by piece, the ship was being replaced, until no original parts were left. Now there are two ships, the one made of original pieces, and the one normally referred to as the real one. Relating this story to sociology, we were asked the question of: If slowly, piece by piece, our personality is being replaced, until we are not the original version of ourselves, which one is us? To continue our study, we were tasked to read a book. I chose Of Mice and Men. Of Mice and Men is the beautiful story of two men, George and Lennie, living and working together as outcasts. Alienated, alone in the world, these two men have built a home together, despite Lennie being mentally challenged. This is the story of two mens’ unconditional love for one another through thick and thin. Exiled by society, Lennie was left with George and his aunt to socialize him. Once his aunt was gone, George was all Lennie had left. George felt responsible. He was all alone as well, so what better did he have to do but help this poor man. After a while of only having him to socialize with, his character shifted. His life was about surviving, and keeping Lennie around. After getting so much background, we finally looked back at our life, and started to write about ourselves. We opened our eyes to what we are and who we have become.
My responsibility in this project is hard to dissect. In many ways, I pushed myself further than ever before. I wrote about something that I have never even recognized in myself before, and worked harder than ever to create something beautiful. But in others, I let myself fall into a path of being distracted often, and letting myself play it off. I more often than not asked questions when need be. I stood up when necessary, but I did try to avoid conferencing because I didn’t feel I needed anything more than comments and feedback on the essay, which could go online. Overall, I am most proud of my perseverance throughout this project. I put everything I had into it, and made myself extremely proud. When things were difficult, I didn’t let myself give up, no matter how hard it was for me. Finally, I believe that my essay is very refined. I went through 6 drafts and finally made it as well done as I could have. My mask, on the other hand, was less well done. I let it slip out of my mind quite often because of how much work I put into my essay, and personally I could’ve made it much better than it is.
When I sat down to write my first draft, I had no idea what I was going to say. As I began to write about my family, all of the sudden I recognized something that I had never seen before in myself. I had more to say then I thought. It opened my eyes up and so, from this project I have gained many things, but for me the biggest is how my mind has changed in the way I feel about my family relations. As a student, I have learned when to take risks, when to stand up, and how to compromise. I have learned how to combine my writing style with a more academic style, and I have learned to write, and re-write, as many times as need be.