I refused to speak to my sister for 27 years. Until I found out she had a secret

I sat at my computer and emailed my sister Leonora*. We hadn’t been in regular contact for 26 years and we were never on the best of terms as kids.

But she didn’t write back.

A few days later, I tried again. 

‘I’d really like to be able to support you through this time, I know it can’t be easy. I hope people are being accepting and kind.’

In the email, I made sure I apologised for being a rubbish big sister.

Again, Leonora didn’t reply and I burst into tears.

I really wanted to support her because I knew from social media that so many people out there would question her very existence and validity as a trans woman. I knew that she had few people in her life, and so a loving sister could make a big difference to her wellbeing.

And I had hoped I would gain a new sibling in return, because I had never had one.

I wanted to make a fresh start – but it looked like this would be more difficult than I’d imagined.

Last autumn, my mother phoned me up, saying she had something difficult to tell me about my younger sibling Leo*. I started to panic, my mind went to dark places and I began to worry that Leo had a terminal illness. 

When Mum finally told me they were transitioning from male to female, and that I now had a sister called Leonora, I was hugely relieved. Not just because she was safe and well, but because, looking back, it made total sense.

Growing up, Leonora had always seemed very uneasy and uncomfortable in her own skin. She had been self-conscious and miserable and had trouble relating to others and making friends.

She was bullied at school, had few confidantes and rarely brought kids home to play. Instead, she kept herself to herself and was very quiet, cynical and reclusive.

She always seemed to be struggling with something – and I now realised it was the fact that she had been born in the wrong body.

I had always been very pro-trans and wanted to support Leonora in her transition, but there was a problem: We’d been estranged since 1997. 

Our childhood had been very bleak – we were both being violently and emotionally abused by our father.

Out of this abuse, I began to resent Leonora greatly because she had been – and still was – our mum’s favourite. 

When our dad had flown into rages, our mum had been more likely to protect Leonora than me. 

I had assumed this was because she was the baby, being younger. But now I wonder: Had our mum sensed that Leonora was uniquely vulnerable?

Our dad subscribed to regressive stereotypes and traditional gender roles, and often urged Leonora to ‘Be a man!’ 

When we were tweens, our dad bought us both a magazine each month: I got Discovering Needlecraft and Leonora got a car magazine. I loved embroidering handkerchiefs, but Leonora couldn’t have been less interested in cars. 

Leonora and I had never really got on – she was quiet, obedient and studious; I was chatty, extroverted and rebellious. 

Whenever she annoyed me, I would kick her legs, pinch her, pull her hair or nick the remote control off her when she was watching telly. I deeply regret how I behaved.

She stormed down the hall and punched me hard in the face, giving me a black eye

At the time, I had no idea what she was going through – it was the 1980s and I’d never heard of trans people.

Then, there was an incident.

In 1997, when I was 17 and she was 13, the internet was powered by an old-style dial-up system. Back then, you couldn’t be online and on the phone at the same time. 

I wanted to make a call to a boy I liked, so I pulled out the internet lead and plugged in the phone. I was unaware that at that exact time, Leonora was in her room gaming. 

She stormed down the hall and punched me hard in the face, giving me a black eye. I was utterly and totally shocked – she’d never been violent like this before.

My eye swelled up and no amount of makeup covered the bruising. 

That day, our father congratulated Leonora on ‘finally being a man’. 

I was outraged – in that moment, I decided that Leonora had become abusive like him and I swore to have nothing more to do with her.

We lived in the same house for another six years, but I totally avoided her and refused to engage with her – not that she really tried to engage with me. I think she knew she’d gone too far.

Nine years after punching me, Leonora emigrated to America. 

Over the next two decades, I emailed her twice and she emailed me once, attempting to reconcile, but neither of us responded to the other.

When Leonora emailed me, I had just fallen out with our mother, and I assumed she had asked Leonora to email me. I decided, perhaps wrongly, that Leonora’s email wasn’t genuine.

Leonora fell in love with an American woman, Amy*, and started a relationship with her. I was pleased for her, when I found out via my mother.

I last saw her at our dad’s funeral in 2016, where she was still presenting as male. I had no clue that she was planning to transition.

Leonora and Amy married and had a baby – and soon after, Leonora began taking oestrogen. Leonora is now undergoing electrolysis and is having gender-affirming care, covered by her medical insurance, to physically transition to female.

Amy was fully supportive of her transition and they live happily together. I’m really glad Leonora’s wife has stood by her and that she is finally getting to live her truth, after living as the wrong gender for nearly 40 years.

I’m still upset that she hasn’t responded to my emails, celebrating her transition, but it’s entirely Leonora’s prerogative not to want contact. 

She is dealing with a lot, and I can’t even imagine what it’s like to be born in the wrong body.

I just hope that she knows that, if she ever needs me, I’ll be here.

*Names have been changed

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