“I have a feeling when our parents die, my contact with my sisters will be done and I will be on my own. I feel obligated to stay in touch with my sisters for them.”
—Derrick
Judy and her sister Mary Ann had an intense interaction when they both were in their late twenties. Living in different parts of the country, they were rarely in contact, except for family gatherings.
Even when we were kids, we did not get along; we had totally different interests and it seemed different values. Later, at family gatherings, we “walked on eggs.” One day, Mary Ann sat me down and said, “You know, the negativity between us is baggage from our childhoods. The things we didn’t like about one another, as children, have nothing to do with who we are as married adults. I like the way you handle your children and I know you’re comfortable with the way I handle mine. We enjoy doing things together like cooking, baking and doing craft projects. Let’s dump that baggage and move on.”
I knew she was right. We both cried and hugged one another. I felt like several tons had been lifted from my shoulders. From that day forward we became friends. We were a silly, giddy, fun-loving pair, who still recognized one another’s faults but were both willing to put them aside for the positive things we saw and could enjoy in one another. If my sister hadn’t taken that step towards change, by confronting it and acknowledging it, we would have missed the long lasting, loving and healthy relationship we had for over thirty years until her death in 2008.
Some sibling relationships tend to evolve over time while others stay fairly stable. Like all human interactions, siblings begin by developing their own set of beliefs, values and attitudes about how they see themselves—their gender, body image, personal attributes, talents, social role, or even birth order—in relation to their family members and the larger world, all of which influence their behavior towards their sibling. Expectations of one another during their growing-up years are part of an evolutionary process, ultimately shaping various degrees of intensity in their adult relationships. As with the two sisters above, at times the relationships may not be satisfying, but at other times they may be positive, healthy sources of enormous satisfaction. One way of visualizing the full range of sibling relationships is to look at the model continuum of intensity of sibling closeness, created by Victor Cicirelli and Deborah Gold (Cicirelli 1995, Gold 1989: see Appendix A). It is often used as a tool where siblings can identify where they had been in the past, are at the present, or aspire to be in the future.
As a consequence of Mary Ann’s courage defining what she wanted the relationship to be, Judy and Mary Ann instantly moved from “Apathetic” to “Congenial.” Communication and willingness to listen were obviously the critical factors facilitating the move to a healthier place on the sibling relationship continuum. However, what was evident is that these sisters had the foundation of their native language, spoken English, as the basic tool they used to initiate the communication and negotiation.
In contrast to Judy and Mary Ann’s relationship, Marla and her sister Julie grew up using English, a spoken auditory language rarely accessible to Marla. Therefore, these deaf and hearing sisters were not raised with a “common language” as equals with one another, a privilege the hearing sisters Mary Ann and Judy shared. Nowadays, Marla and Julie are rarely in contact, feel somewhat indifferent, or even some hostility towards one another. However, they do attend and invite one another to their life-cycle events. Like many siblings over the years, Marla and Julie’s relationship is functional, falling under “Apathetic” on Cicirelli’s and Gold’s continuum, unveiling deeply buried emotions beneath the surface of their interactions:
It feels like a pane of Plexiglas between us, constantly preventing us from searching for opportunities to maintain a relationship. While we can choose our friends, we don’t choose our birth family. Julie and I, like all siblings, have our share of baggage from when we were kids. I don’t even know if we can generate a decent conversation. But, of all the people in the world, my sister is my first family. Why should I ignore someone who could be a positive part of my life and who shares my family history like no one else? A piece of me feels like I’m entitled to all of the things that define a relationship with siblings—not only with Julie but with my brother Joseph as well.
Siblings’ presumptions about one another get established early, involving even mundane aspects of play. Interplay between deaf and hearing siblings presents unique elements. Deaf siblings rely on visual cues for affirmation of acknowledgment, a dominant force in accumulating intimate connections. On the other hand, hearing siblings, accustomed to a world filled with auditory cues, may unintentionally create barriers that cause friction between themselves and their deaf sibling.
Often as children playing outside in our backyard, Julie would run towards me, tapping my shoulder, saying: “Mom wants us to go inside.” At other times I would call, “Juu-lie, mom wants you!” in as loud a voice as I could muster, and wait for a cue in response, often leaving me with uncertainty, hesitant, or bewildered. These subtle differences permeate how we’d respond to one another, potentially tarnishing our ability to anticipate one others’ needs. It didn’t happen only once in a while. Like a splinter getting embedded deeper and deeper, it was a constant occurrence because sounds were in control.
In contrast, deaf children in deaf schools cultivate their own natural ways of engaging one another. They used their eyes to tune in—to get one another’s attention: penguin-waves, stomping their foot, or flashing the lights. Feedback was immediate, eliminating the uncertainties siblings who are deaf and hearing may experience. On the other hand, deaf children have powerful weapons they frequently use to cut off interactions, not only with the parents but with their siblings as well. Joseph, Marla’s brother recalled how his sister used it: “I felt as if you controlled conversations by not looking or turning off your hearing aids when you wanted to. That was frustrating for me.” Although siblings may use visual and auditory cues to control interactions triggering distancing, the willingness to leave the door open rather than shut could allow the individuals to achieve intimacy.
Luterman’s study of siblings presents two elements essential to having intimacy in a sibling relationship. Intimacy encompasses distinct behaviors, reinforcing direct communication with frequent high-powered equal contact with one another (Luterman and Ross 1991). As children, perhaps they create their own secret codes, put on dress-up clothes, rehearse and perform before parents and family friends, or pretend to be a fireman, doctor, or a teacher—sharing their dreams. In their teens, siblings tend to be wrapped up in themselves or deeply involved with peers. Siblings are an afterthought—except when no one is around—the natural default companions. Eventually, as young adults, siblings may use each other as sounding boards for their shortcomings, faults or even untapped potential, and while spending time together, uncover and pursue common interests. As siblings leave the nest, they part ways, beginning new chapters in their lives. Even if for a couple of years they drift apart, what they take is the knowledge that their sibling is out there as someone they can turn to, if needed.
When siblings feel they are waiting for the next shoe to drop, the tension escalates. Those feelings involve a tendency to search for blame, deny the impact of their flaws, or downplay the significance of their discomfort. A common occurrence of this phenomenon was seen when deaf siblings, who used speech and lipreading with their families, came home from deaf schools with a different vision, and were hit with this retort: “I know you prefer to sign. That’s your right but it doesn’t mean I have to learn it too. We’ve always done just fine speaking to one another.”
The change in attitude and behavior of the deaf sibling induced a tidal wave in some families. Some turned against each other, lashing out with labels of rebellious, deaf/ASL militant, or accusations of non-acceptance of being deaf. Several families tried to adjust but remained unavailable. Alyce, one of the hearing siblings, admitted feeling ashamed, while most families took the change as having nothing to do with them, while accepting their deaf family member had found another home where ASL was the norm.
The backlash is the result of what many family therapists describe as the “blind spot.” When family members take a hands-off approach to learning to sign or hiring interpreters, ignoring their deaf family member’s access needs, their behavior inhibits intimacy. What if we substitute the sibling with alcohol or heroin addictions for the deaf sibling who yearns for the family to sign? Everyone is affected, one way or another, until families pull themselves together as a unit to address the elephant in the room. Minuchin’s approach to family as a system says that families operate as interactive units and what affects one family member affects all members (Seligman and Darling 1997). No one is immune to family dramas.
The full participation as a unit with equal positive interactions among family members is easier said than done, if access is denied to any family member, especially since optimal sibling relationships take time to develop and start early, at home. Many of us take our siblings’ very existence for granted, not contemplating our expectations of them. For some people, despite having a shared history, siblings may be people to whom we have no obligation. We could walk away, guilt-free, believing our siblings aren’t worth our time or energy. Others have a different worldview: shared family history warrants the effort that brings lifelong friendship and love. Some are still searching.
Siblings have much to share. Learning from their collective experiences, we can begin to help other brothers and sisters turn a potentially painful, burdensome experience into a rewarding one (Powell and Gallagher 1993). The sibling threesome we met, a deaf-blind brother and his two hearing siblings, may be intimidating to outsiders, especially when conversation requires Tactile Sign, including fingerspelling, with hands touching one another, sometimes on the face. One of the sisters, Val, spent a lifetime experience witnessing how family members and strangers were easily alienated by her deaf-blind brother’s presence, including ASL interpreters who refused to allow him to touch their hands. Without Tactile Sign, how is it possible for him to have access to visual or spoken information in his surroundings? However, both siblings, aware of the recurring isolation and alienation, have turned to one another for moral support. These siblings, Val and Rory, entertained themselves being playful and shared delight at family gatherings:
We would have this other secret. He would put his hand on mine and I would tell him who was talking, and who said what, and no one knew. I’d secretly sign in his hand and you could see his face reacting. Then, I would say to him, “Turn around and look.” And he’d do that to me, signing back in my hand. So the two of us are telling secrets, though no one can understand what we’re doing. We still do it.
The differences in being a deaf and hearing sibling are inescapable: access to conversations requires commitment by each family member. Of the ten families, half the siblings demonstrated their unwavering commitment whereas others did not, or did so unpredictably. While it may be difficult to determine which came first, the chicken or the egg, those siblings who described themselves as having a close relationship with one another took access seriously and personally fought for it. It was as if being together and sharing the experience had more meaning than dwelling on their differences as deaf and hearing people. Addressing the needs of a sibling was presented as an opportunity to care enough, appreciate, and share the love for being a sibling.