The Tagalog word “Ate,” pronounced “ah-teh,” directly translates to “sister” in English. Although that may be the literal definition, the word carries more weight than just ‘sister.’
Growing up at church, everyone was an “Ate,” whether I was related to them or not. This term of endearment in Filipino culture is used to show respect to our elders. Everything I know about being an older sister came from those around me.
They taught me through their actions. While our parents were performing in the church choir, they would look after me. Even though they were only a few years older than me, they still showed so much care and responsibility – making up games, feeding us, and keeping us safe.
However, when it came to my own sister and me, it felt more complicated. I wanted to be there for her in the same way, but I didn’t know how. It felt like we couldn’t see eye to eye. It felt like I couldn’t live up to the title.
My parents would get mad at how we argued and yelled at each other. My mom would compare us to her and her own sister, trying to explain how they never argued. While they were about a year apart, my own sister and I were almost four years apart. I always thought we were just in different parts of our lives.
I was getting older, but all I could see was our age gap. She was – in my eyes – my younger sister, too young to like the things I liked or watch the shows I wanted to watch.
When it came to my emotions, I never wanted to cry in front of her. I was supposed to be the strong one – the oldest. “Ate” felt like a huge title I was still learning how to carry. My parents reminded me that I had the responsibility to take care of her, to look out for her, and to protect her.
Everyone around me, especially my mom, would tell me that the bond between sisters is the closest you’ll have in life. Little by little, I realized what she had meant.
Whenever our cousins would laugh or tease her, it would stir up something new inside me. I felt an obligation to stand up for her.
Our interests began to line up, and I found myself wanting to spend more time with her. Instead of telling our parents that I was staying up late, we would stay up late together, trying to laugh as quietly as possible and even sharing funny videos with each other.
Instead of hiding my emotions, she became one of the first people I would go to – calling our cousins on FaceTime and giving our latest life updates. Amid the small fights we had, I still tried to show that she could come to me when she needed to.
I began enjoying our silences while studying or exchanging our new favorite songs. I used to complain about sharing a room, but it suddenly hit me that when college comes around, who knows when we’ll be sharing experiences like this again.
There was one time I remember when my sister asked me to treat her like I treat my friends, and I said no. I said no because I wasn’t her friend — I was her sister. At the time, I felt like she didn’t understand it in the way I meant.
We share a connection deeper than friends. No one sees me in the way that she could, and no one could share the experience of growing up together. I feel like the older we get, the closer we get – so yes, my mom was right.
I’m still learning how to be an older sister, and while we aren’t immune to having fights, I wouldn’t give it up for anything.
