Sibling Revelry

Because the topic is trending - and because Stanley claims we're trendy - he insists that this topic take centrestage at Saturday brunch.

My sex-bunny friend Stanley, Carl the dense one and J my partner were at a child-friendly cafe in the eastern part of Singapore.

After we ordered our respective meals, Stanley very urgently set the agenda over brunch.

The Lee family feud.

"Why you so kaypoh ah?" asked Carl, who at our last check, still thought that our current president is S R Nathan.

Stanley looked annoyed.

"Carl, this is a topic that concerns the nation!" he scolded.

"You must keep up with current affairs," Stanley added, slurring the word "affairs" with a touch of sleaziness.

Carl didn't look convinced.

Stanley then ventured to challenge Carl in a bid to shut him off: "Tell me, Carl. What is the name of our current president?"

Carl cocked his head to one side and scrunched his features together as if an invisible hand was squeezing his face like a sponge.

While Singapore's Number One Big Kaypoh continued chatting with J (and with Carl continuing to look like he needed to be in ICU for constipation), I started on attacking my hearty American breakfast.

Truth be told, the family feud didn't fascinate me.

But the famous Lee family drama got me thinking about another Lee family. Mine. 

My very own Lee siblings: Younger brother Barry, my second sis S and oldest Sis Jo. 

Only one name has been approved for this blog because my sis S needs her privacy and Barry doesn't care. Sis Jo doesn't even know I'm gay, much less the existence of this blog.

And so, I thought that I should write about this topic today: Sibling rivalry versus sibling revelry. 

In my case, we are definitely filled with love for one another.

Although we've all grown up and no longer stay together, we meet very often for drinks and meals. Just us siblings. 

But I do have many friends who grow up being distant and worse, hating their siblings. 

Stanley for instance, hates his older sister with a passion. 

Carl on the other hand, doesn't talk much to his younger brother.

In my family, it's quite different. 

Sure, we all didn't grow up loving one another all day every day. 

When we were kids, my second sis S, who is three years older than I, were at logger heads with each other all the time. 

We'd fight over toys, or challenge each other in every silly game like who eats dinner faster, or who can avoid stepping on all things linear on the floor at shopping malls.

But mainly, we fought like kids, over childish issues.

She would tell on me if I ran in the backyard without her, and played in drains to my heart's content.

And in retaliation, I would pretend that she scratched me while playing catching, and complain to our older sis Jo (who was in JC while we were in primary school).

Our older sis Jo dotes on us like a good old fashioned big sister. And because of our age difference, she left us younger ones be. 

But she loved us and we welcomed her affection - like how she'd take us out on dates when she went out with her then-boyfriend who would come pick her up in a truck. 

She'd also always buy us food or the occasional toy to share. 

When the younger brother came along - who is three years younger than I - I felt that I had to cultivate another ally but the goodnatured brother was so kind to everyone he had no heart to bully his second sister at my bidding. 

And as we grew older, I felt I had them all: A doting oldest sis who doesn't give a damn about our kiddish politicking, and two siblings both of whom are so close to my age - each of them with a three-year gap from me.

And I felt that I, of all my siblings, had the best of both worlds: On the one hand, there's another boy in the family. So he became my natural best friend.

When we played swordfighting, my younger brother Barry and I were both each other's foes, out to kill each other and master pugilistic skills from a secret manual hidden in a dangerous cave (our grandma's TV room - and if you know our grandma and her stern ways and how she fiercely guards all her Hong Kong TVB video tapes, you will understand how dangerous that cave truly is).

And when playing police-and-thief, Barry and I were both on the good side. We pitched tents using blankets and operated from there as our HQ. 

All this while, our second sis S would be left out of our games and she would busy herself with her Nancy Drew books.

But she was a part of the game: She was the enemy we had to kill. S of course wasn't very participative and at a ripe old age of 11, would sourly dismiss us as childish.

Yet, S and I would have our own games - the inner Ah Gua in me also loved playing with my second sis S.

Sometimes, we would both play dress up, using one of our auntie's petticoats and we were princesses on some days, or some rich taitais with big clip-on earrings on other occasions. 

Barry would not understand why gor gor had to wear dresses alongside jie jie, but he would giggle along and sometimes, star in our Chick Flick drama as our servant boy.

All this playing made us very close.

Years later when I confessed to S and Barry that I was gay, they both rolled eyes at me. 

But that's a story for another day.

Point is, sibling love starts from young.

We were fortunate enough to grow up in two relatively spacious shophouses where playtime was always adventurous. 

We had ample space for hide-and-seek, big backyards to run around in, and a few streets away from our houses, narrow alleys with overgrown weed to trek on whenever we felt adventurous enough to sneak out. 

Even if we didn't share toys and did have our differences, love was cultivated through play. 

And it helps that all my grandma's children - I had six aunties and uncles - lived in the two shophouses. 

And my mum being the second youngest child would always be respectful to all her older siblings. 

Kids are impressionable so the more you show - and not merely instruct - them on how to love, the more they will be nurtured. 

Stanley on the other hand, hated his older sister. 

She's a bitch is all Stanley would say when asked for some input to this blogpost. 

"Say that men always fall for me instead of my wicked, ugly sister," Stanley suggested. 

Stanley's sister Cindy Ong is far from hideous. 

And I suspect it's precisely because Cindy is gorgeous that Stanley dislikes her.  

Growing up, Stanley had always been closer to his dad. 

But as with most if not all dads, the older Mr Ong dotes on his sister more. 

When they were younger, Stanley would always be compared to her older sister. 

Whenever they played, Stanley said he would always be second fiddle to his sister's imaginative games, taking on only the supporting role. 

When his sister Cindy ventured on to more adventurous games like cycling, Stanley's dad would tell him not to join his sister because he's still too young.

And when Stanley was old enough to pick up skateboarding - which his sister couldn't deal with - Stanley's dad would tell him to share with his sister because "as a boy, you must learn to give in to girls".

When they grew older, his dad spent loads of money on his sister, sponsoring her studies in the United Kingdom.

When it was Stanley's turn to go to university, his dad said to him that since his results were good enough to qualify for NTU, he should just study locally.

Stanley would later blame his sister for his being gay. 

"I have all these daddy issues because of the lack of attention from him. Cindy Rebecca Ong Bee Leng is to blame," Stanley said invoking his sister's full name, an indication of his true distaste. 

Carl on the other hand, told me that he felt like the lousy older brother who always disappointed his parents.

Although older, Carl is indeed denser than his younger brother, who turned out to be charmingly cunning.

As kids, the two would get into trouble but his younger brother would always get away with things.

Both Carl and his younger brother would both look innocent - in his younger brother's case, it was because he could feign innocence well. In Carl's case, he was simply too dense to look guilty.

But Carl would still be punished because as the older boy, you must set an example to your younger brother, his parents would say.

As Carl's younger brother grew older, his cunning ways were sharpened.

He'd always charm his way into getting more pocket money, and later in adult life, managed to escape financial responsibilities to the family.

Eventually, Carl stopped talking to his younger brother because he felt that his parents' love was unequal, and that the obvious favouritism had spoiled his younger brother beyond the point of redemption. 

As I sat at Cafe Melba that late morning, watching dozens of kids running amok in the open field beside the cafe, I thought about how these carefree little beings would grow up to be.

And how much their parents' values would shape the way they interact with the world - and interact with their own siblings.

Many a time, the early seeds of favourtism and early seeds of comparison are actually planted by parents themselves - without them realising it.

And kids being kids, they'd take offence. They may sometimes get over these comparisons and favouritism but if it persists, who's to guarantee that they won't grow up resenting their siblings?

I shared my thoughts with the table.

Stanley, who was stirring his cafe mocha, looked worried.

"Adam dear, I agree with you.

 "These parents belong behind bars.

"Because anyone who wants to plant seeds - whatever kind of seeds they may be - in children should go to hell."