Daisy and I were born in the winter of 1993, 20 minutes apart. We are twins. Thats all I can say, we never got the test done. But I never had much trouble identifying as an individual. Its not hard to talk about yourself. But when you are constantly mistaken for someone else, you only really have your DNA to defend yourself. For the last 21 years, I have been living in a case of mistaken identity.
Short cut bobs and big blue eyes featured twice in the package of kindergarten photographs that went home to my parents. It almost looked like they had printed the same photo twice. This happened in pre-school too, and for years after. In the fourth year of school, teachers separated us from the same class. Maybe they thought it would help stop us relying one another. Or maybe they they were under the impression that we were unable to do anything for ourselves. In the end, it was neither.
In high school, our classes were often combined. When teachers would call the roll, they would call ‘The Twins’ rather than our own names. Like a unit of measurement, we came as a pair. This persistence to group us together pushed us to grow apart. We weren’t the same person. We cut our hair in different styles, started spending time with new friends. At this point, we looked completely different. However, as hard as we both tried, we found our differences were overshadowed by our similarities.
When I look at Daisy, I don’t see myself. I see the same characteristics. But when outsiders mistake me for her, and vice versa, I wonder if they see something that I cannot. Being so accustomed to our differences, I never really took the time to focus on our similarities.