Have you ever thought about going to prison? 

What would it feel like to be a prisoner? 

Confined, controlled, desperate, scared, weak, yet aware. 

Now say, you were wrongly convicted; 

Could you live, could you bear? 

Daily torture, torment, turmoil; you’d feel destined for despair.

Last week I mentioned how I am perfectly positioned between my siblings in age: 29, 23, 17, 16. I have a plethora of incredible memories that include my older, my younger, or a mixture of the two; More than either could say for the other. Katelyn is the baby of the family, born August 19th, 2007. And she has always fulfilled the role of being the baby of the family. 

I had a much better relationship with my younger sister than I did with my older sister growing up. Most of the time, Serena refused to play games or play with toys with me. Perhaps I learned from that, internalized how I felt, and made sure my younger siblings would have me to play with – though, with only 14 months between Andrew and Katelyn, they always had each other as well. From video games, to board games, to games of our own imagination, my younger siblings and I were constantly intertwined. 

Most favored by my siblings and I was the game: Mommy Monster – aptly named, though at the time it had nothing to do with my mother. The game of Mommy Monster, which probably lasted from the time I was age 9-13, consisted of me playing the pivotal role: Mommy Monster. One sibling would become victim to the Mommy Monster, getting trapped under the 15 pound decorative comforter on my parent’s king size bed with me. The other sibling would be ‘Super Duppy On Your Acquaintance Side’: the role that got to beat up Mommy Monster and rescue the victimized sibling. I, genuinely, know not where the names ‘Mommy Monster’ and ‘Super Duppy On Your Acquaintance Side’ came from, but what I do know is Katelyn gave us those names in her toddlerhood – a clairvoyant from the start.

Katelyn has never been a morning person. A lot of the time, it was my job to dress Andrew and Katelyn in the morning, and, a lot of the time, Katelyn would not wake up. To this day, Katelyn takes forever to wake up in the morning. She will sleep till late afternoon and be up into the wee hours of the morning. Getting Andrew dressed was always easy, most of his clothes were my hand-me-downs. Katelyn, on the other hand, gave me an opportunity to create. Picking out dresses, jackets, skirts, pants, socks, headbands, hair clips: I was afforded the opportunity of playing dress up with a real life doll – the princess of our house. 

A few times I was asked to put Katelyn’s hair in a ponytail – girl, I am so fucking sorry to your scalp. To this day, I suck at putting my own hair in a ponytail, and I can only imagine I pulled her shit tight. My sincere apologies. 

Katelyn had a few outfits that I loved to put her in. Most importantly was a pair of baby-pink-checkered-overall-shorts-with-powder-blue-bows-where-the-straps-connect. The outfit was either a 4T or 5T. It would go darling with a powder blue bow or pink and blue butterfly clips in her pigtails, white ankle socks and her off brand TwinkleToes. And, while we are on the topic of feet, Katelyn had the stinkiest, cheesiest feet as a baby. It was truly vile, much worse than Serena’s Black-Friday-JCPenny-Cashier-Feet. The soundtrack to the TwinkleToes commercial was certainly the soundtrack to Katelyn’s childhood. 

TWINKLE TWINKLE TWINKLE TOES, EVERYTHING SPARKLES AND GLOWS. GIVE ME FASHION, GIVE ME COOL, TWINKLE TOES LET’S ROCK AND ROLL! 

Katelyn also owned the shorts; the ones that all queer adults recall owning…

Katelyn and I always had a strong connection. I remember being so excited for her as she grew and made her own friends; Mila, Lynne, and our neighbors next door. Mila’s sister was in my grade, so their friendship felt fateful. Katelyn was so excited to attend the same school as both of her brothers, and I was excited for all of my teachers to one day meet her, but that is not quite how our story goes. 

You see, Mila and Lynne were Katelyn’s best friends at a very young age – maybe preschool through first grade. Shortly after my high school graduation, my parents deemed public school to be the influence of my sexuality – relying on the idea that a public education made me queer – and switched my siblings into private school… Catholic school. It is here where a large chunk of Katelyn’s life that I am not aware of exists; not because I don’t remember, but because I wasn’t allowed. 

In the Spring of 2020, the world went into lockdown. My parents and younger siblings lived in one home, Serena and her growing family in another, and myself in an apartment in the next city over. With freetime on all of our hands, my siblings and I became best friends. We chatted in a group chat daily, eventually leading us, like every other person in lockdown, to play Among Us. Originally, it was just my younger siblings and I playing, but eventually we convinced Serena to join us. We would facetime while playing the game, talking as we went, trying to identify each other’s tells as the imposter. We played consistently, nightly, for what felt like weeks. 

[What follows is not Katelyn’s story. What follows is a story of my abuse, that I endured at the hands of my parents. One day, Katelyn will be liberated, and tell her own story. And, I hope all of our ears will be listening. What follows is my story.] 

One night, Katelyn asked me to stay on the call after Serena and Andrew had left. We chatted for a second before she said she had something she needed to tell me. Katelyn was 13 at the time. On that call, she told me she was queer [queer, used here as an umbrella term for the gay community, not signifying any one community, though she did, at the time, disclose to me which community she belonged to]. I told her I was proud of her, that I love her, and that I was happy she told me. We talked for a few moments about how she felt about it and why she told me. Before hanging up the call, I had to warn her:

“Katelyn, please be careful who you tell. Some people will keep your secret, some will not. A lot of people will be upset by it, and you need to be careful with who you tell since you are so young.”

She understood. 

Within a few more weeks, Katelyn told me she wanted to tell Serena and Andrew. I told her to do what she wanted, I let her know that Serena was a safe space, but I wasn’t sure how Andrew felt about it. She agreed and told me she was not even thinking about telling our parents. That night, Serena would stay late on the call with Katelyn and I, and Katelyn would tell her her secrets. Serena, as always, was supportive, welcoming, and accepting, while also warning her to be careful with this secret. 

What Serena and I knew was something Katelyn did not; From Katelyn’s perspective, it seemed like there was no major problem after my coming out. Sure, there was some fighting, disagreement, and unacceptance, but nothing traumatic. To this day, Katelyn [and while we are at it, Andrew] is unaware of exactly what happened when I was outed. I look forward to the day we are all adults and I can disclose those horrors with them. 

For a bit, all was fine. I was elated that Katelyn felt comfortable to tell Serena and I what was so intimate and special to her. But, Katelyn eventually wanted to tell Andrew. They shared everything with each other; they had been best friends for their whole lives so far. Katelyn felt like she was lying if she didn’t tell Andrew. And while I cannot relate, I wholly understand; I am proud of her for telling Andrew. 

My lovely baby brother, however, did not take to this news so well. Andrew, we have always known, was quite a bit more bound to his religion than the rest of us siblings were. I remember not if it was the next day, or a few days later, but Andrew would have a panic attack at school. A panic attack so bad, that he struggled to breathe, and was swiftly picked up by my parents. You see, this was extremely uncharacteristic of Andrew; he always presented strong, tough, and stoic. A breakdown of this magnitude signified a major issue. On the car ride home, Andrew would hold strong, saying he was not sure what caused it. But shortly after arriving home, he would tell my parents that Katelyn told him she was queer and that he was scared for her. 

Andrew did not want his baby sister to go to hell. 

I cannot blame Andrew for telling my parents; in fact, I don’t. The pressure he felt was undoubtedly immense. He was keeping his best friends secret from the very people he looked up to; it was an impossible task. 

I lived this nightmare. Now, I would live it again. 

I am not sure of who called who first and said what when and where because I was mostly excluded from the conversation. What I do know, is that night Serena told me that our parents knew, and my soul began leaving my body. I panicked, terrified that I was going to lose my baby sister. I had to live with my parents after being outed for 9 months, and it nearly cost me my life. Katelyn would have to live with my parents after being outed for over 5 years. This was something I knew I was incapable of, and something I feared, she was too. 

My roommate, Kayla, sat with me that night as the group texts between Serena, myself, and my parents rocked with turbulence. Calls between Serena and I, our parents and Serena, and myself and our parents starting and dropping in chaotic harmony. How clear Kayla’s concern was – shocked by the atrocities my parents commit. My parents did not care what I had to say, I held no authority in this situation. In fact, my parent’s believed I caused this; It was my queerness that influenced Katelyn to be queer. Had I not ‘chosen’ to be gay, neither would she. 

What they failed to understand is that sexuality is innate. I did not choose this, she did not, and nor did they choose to be straight. Still, while I knew my parents did not care what I had to say, I urged them: 

“Please, do not make her kill herself. You pushed me to the very edge of extinction, and you will do the same to her. She is much younger, she is not as strong yet. You know what you did wrong with me, use that to learn. You can make your experience with her better. You can have the relationship that we lack.”

You see, our Mommy is a Monster.

The next day, I would text Katelyn to check on her. I knew she had to be going through hell. What I expected was that Katelyn would have her phone taken away – that always seemed to be a go-to punishment – but what I experienced was much, much worse. What I found was that none of my texts to Katelyn would deliver. So, I called her: straight to voicemail. Instagram DM: blocked. 

fuck. 

I had been completely, entirely, cut off from contacting my younger sister. The younger sister was most likely experiencing the worst part of her life thus far. I was livid. I could not have any communication with my sister when she needed it most. If anybody could help her understand that she can make it through this hellish experience, it was me. I lived it, and I live. All I wanted was to hug her and let her know, you can do this. 

My parents didn’t see the big deal. I could contact her by calling them, they would sit on speakerphone while we talked. Or, I could schedule a time to come by their house, and hang out with her and my parents. This sounds fine, but in a supervised situation, I may never know if Katelyn is actually okay or not. Would you let your oppressor know you feel oppressed? 

One thing about us Queer-Katsbulas-es though: we are resilient. When things were their heaviest, Katelyn and I would still find ways to communicate. Alive in the digital age, my younger sister and I mailed each other letters. I sent mine to her friend’s house, a friend who she no longer has. I have to wonder about that friend’s parent, did they know why they were receiving letters addressed to their child’s best friend? Was that weird for them or did they understand, her life was at stake? In total she sent me three and I sent her two. I still have those letters, and I will never let them go. 

Those letters gave me hope. If she had me, then I had her, and that was all that mattered. I told her to be strong, I told her I loved her, and that I will always be there for her, regardless of what our parents said. My parents would feed her lies – this still continues today. Unconsciously, little falsities about my life will slip from my younger siblings’ lips. My parents actively attempt to create resentment, distrust, and misunderstanding between my siblings and I. 

What our parents fail to realize is that the misinformation they spew matters not. My love for my siblings, each and every one of them, is unwavering; it is unconditional, it cannot be broken. My parents do not know unconditional love; they never have. Without knowing unconditional love, it is understandable that they believe a sibling’s bond can be broken. After all, the bonds between them and their siblings surely are. 

To this day, I still can’t independently contact Katelyn. No texts, no calls, no alone time together. A little over a year after she came out, the siblings group chat was restarted on Instagram. This group is monitored, when my mom takes Katelyn’s phone, and I can live with that. If I can chat with my sister, to know she’s alive, then that is all I need. 

[Since publishing the online version of this piece, the block has been lifted. Katelyn and I still have infrequent contact, as we know her safety depends on the content of discussion and our parent’s ‘secret’ observation of it.].]

My parents did not take my advice. They have not done better with Katelyn than they did with me. They have not redeemed themselves, nor have made marginal progression. Again, my parents have failed. 

Instead, Katelyn has showcased her strength. I talk about her often, and I always insist that she is stronger than I. Katelyn has endured more than anyone I know. And always, she prevails. Katelyn is resilient, she knows what she is and she dares not hide it. Katelyn is incredible, in tune with who she is – undoubtedly more so than I at her age. Katelyn is brave, she is beautiful, and she is strong. She is strong, she is strong, she is strong. She is strong. She is strong. She is strong. 

She is strong. She is strong. She is Strong. 

She is strong. 

She is strong. 

She is strong.

Katelyn is strong. 

I am so proud of her, and I cannot wait for the day where we share about the lives we’ve missed. I am excited to see her future, and for her to finally be free. I have written her letters, texts, and posts I’ll never send. One day, I’ll be able to share them; to show her I was there alongside her the whole way through. Some day she’ll have a girlfriend, and I’ll be excited to meet her too. I love that Katelyn smiles, she cries, and she tries. I love that Katelyn lives. 

I know little about her friends, about her life, or her love. I know what I can, and I love what I do. I tell my siblings good morning and that I love you. 

I am certain things are still rough, her living with my parents. I hope they have calmed down, but truly, I may never know. I long for the day that Katelyn turns 18. 

August 19th, 202