TakingITGlobal - Panorama - What is a Boy?...

Published on: Oct 28, 2003

Topic:

Type: Short Stories

https://www.tigweb.org/express/panorama/article.html?ContentID=2138

I came to the world four years ago, but I wasn’t alone. I was one of two twins. I remember being held up-side down and wrapped in something warm. But what I remember most is what happened when my twin came to life after me. Just as soon as everybody saw him they cried in joy, “It’s a boy! It’s a boy!” My dad came into the room, kissed my mom on the forehead and held my twin in his arms happily. He gave the baby to her and, together, they kept on kissing him and admiring his beauty. I started to cry to remind them of myself being their other baby. I felt that they were happier with my baby brother than me, but then I thought this was impossible because we are both their babies, and we both came in the same time. However, it didn’t turn out to be as impossible as I thought.

My parents, both of them, loved my baby brother more than me. They just did not seem to leave him alone for a moment; always carrying him, or feeding him, or playing with him, or singing to him and or telling him bed-time stories. Everyday they brought him a new toy, and the more he broke his toys the more they bought him other toys. All they could ever talk about was how they will raise him up, which language school they would admit him to, what kind of education they wanted him to have, what would they do to insure his future, they even discussed to which college he would go when he would finish high school. It was amazing watching them preoccupying themselves with every single detail of my brother’s future life, while I, his baby twin, was not receiving half as much attention as he was, although my need for care and affection was not by any means less than his.

I had to do something about it. I decided that if they did not give me enough attention, then I should earn it. I should make them feel how much I am in need of their love. I started having brand new habits that they found annoying, I am afraid. I showed no appetite for food and hardly ate; I kept on breaking my toys and throwing them about, and I was crying frequently, almost reasonless. I had hoped that these habits would be enough to attract their attention and make them give me some, just some, of the care that they gave to my brother. There was a great deal of change in their attitude towards me, but not the kind of change I had hoped for.

True that my parents started to notice my presence, but my new habits seemed to evoke nothing in them but hostility. They turned from the stage of not-caring, to the stage of not-liking, and they were really good at showing their disapproval of me. Their reactions ranged from verbal criticism, to physical harm sometimes. They talked about me to people as if I sinned. They pictured me as the evil, wretched devil in comparison to their beloved, pure, lovely angel, my brother. Everybody took a long-lasting impression about me that I was bad, that I was useless and of no good, that I brought nothing but trouble. I myself started to feel that way about myself.

Only one question occupied me for all my life. What’s a boy and what’s a girl? There is a difference between them of course, they talk differently and think differently, but at heart they are the same. They both need love, care and respect. They both deserve to have their chances in life. They both have the right to learn, work, and gain new experiences in life. They both deserve to be respected for who they are. I do not know how come someone as young as I am can understand such facts when my parents can not, but I think this is because my instinct in still alive, and had not been killed by silly traditions and un-justified social beliefs. I wish they could understand that, because I feel that what I have gone through will be nothing compared to the troubles I will face in my future if they do not, and I have learnt to trust my sense.

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by Nourhan Mohammad Aboulabbas
Published on: Oct 28, 2003
Topic:
Type: Short Stories
https://www.tigweb.org/express/panorama/article.html?ContentID=2138


I came to the world four years ago, but I wasn’t alone. I was one of two twins. I remember being held up-side down and wrapped in something warm. But what I remember most is what happened when my twin came to life after me. Just as soon as everybody saw him they cried in joy, “It’s a boy! It’s a boy!” My dad came into the room, kissed my mom on the forehead and held my twin in his arms happily. He gave the baby to her and, together, they kept on kissing him and admiring his beauty. I started to cry to remind them of myself being their other baby. I felt that they were happier with my baby brother than me, but then I thought this was impossible because we are both their babies, and we both came in the same time. However, it didn’t turn out to be as impossible as I thought. My parents, both of them, loved my baby brother more than me. They just did not seem to leave him alone for a moment; always carrying him, or feeding him, or playing with him, or singing to him and or telling him bed-time stories. Everyday they brought him a new toy, and the more he broke his toys the more they bought him other toys. All they could ever talk about was how they will raise him up, which language school they would admit him to, what kind of education they wanted him to have, what would they do to insure his future, they even discussed to which college he would go when he would finish high school. It was amazing watching them preoccupying themselves with every single detail of my brother’s future life, while I, his baby twin, was not receiving half as much attention as he was, although my need for care and affection was not by any means less than his. I had to do something about it. I decided that if they did not give me enough attention, then I should earn it. I should make them feel how much I am in need of their love. I started having brand new habits that they found annoying, I am afraid. I showed no appetite for food and hardly ate; I kept on breaking my toys and throwing them about, and I was crying frequently, almost reasonless. I had hoped that these habits would be enough to attract their attention and make them give me some, just some, of the care that they gave to my brother. There was a great deal of change in their attitude towards me, but not the kind of change I had hoped for. True that my parents started to notice my presence, but my new habits seemed to evoke nothing in them but hostility. They turned from the stage of not-caring, to the stage of not-liking, and they were really good at showing their disapproval of me. Their reactions ranged from verbal criticism, to physical harm sometimes. They talked about me to people as if I sinned. They pictured me as the evil, wretched devil in comparison to their beloved, pure, lovely angel, my brother. Everybody took a long-lasting impression about me that I was bad, that I was useless and of no good, that I brought nothing but trouble. I myself started to feel that way about myself. Only one question occupied me for all my life. What’s a boy and what’s a girl? There is a difference between them of course, they talk differently and think differently, but at heart they are the same. They both need love, care and respect. They both deserve to have their chances in life. They both have the right to learn, work, and gain new experiences in life. They both deserve to be respected for who they are. I do not know how come someone as young as I am can understand such facts when my parents can not, but I think this is because my instinct in still alive, and had not been killed by silly traditions and un-justified social beliefs. I wish they could understand that, because I feel that what I have gone through will be nothing compared to the troubles I will face in my future if they do not, and I have learnt to trust my sense. « return.