My Almost Older Sister
My Family Was Supposed to Look A Lot Different
My family was pretty different, at least by 1970s standards and in my small Canadian military town. Two Black parents, a teenage Black son and a lilly-white, blue-eyed, mixed-race baby. To say we were the talk of the town would be an understatement.
But 18 years before my arrival, we were about to look even more different and set tongues wagging even faster.
The first time I heard the name Kim, I was about 3. I remember my father saying he had a very special present for me. I was instructed to wait quietly on the sofa while he retrieved it.
A few moments later, he came out with a large white, but yellowing box. He opened it and passed me a doll. It was the most beautiful doll I’d ever seen! And so different than all my other blonde-haired babies. I was told I could hold it and play with it for a little while, but that it would be put away after that. I was too young to properly care for such a special treasure.
As I beamed with excitement, I noticed two things, the tears in his eyes and my mother’s scowl. I figured she was scowling because she was worried I’d ruin it. She was always worried I’d wreck everything I got my “picky paws” on. Or it could have been that I was getting attention. I didn’t know then. I figured it out…
