Sister Acts

This story is part of the Mental Health for the Holidays series. Our annual literary collection delves into various seasonal subtopics. In 2024, we’re looking at good tidings, bad partings, and new traditions — things that emerge from estrangements. While end-of-year celebrations can be joyful, they can also trigger feelings of stress and loss. Read the collection to learn how others were able to meet those challenges. Here’s a past series on moping, coping, and hoping. Warm wishes for the holidays.

It was in May 2021 that my sister announced she would not be getting a COVID-19 vaccination, despite the fact that most of us over age 60 were relieved, if not joyous, that we could do so. I was stunned. It was difficult to believe that my older and only sibling, a vibrant, well-educated, well-travelled woman in her 70s, would make such a reckless and, to me, foolish decision.

It was also the moment when the wider meaning of it hit me full force: the emotional connection we’d had my entire life would never be the same again.

My tears watered the vegetable seedlings I’d planted in the garden boxes my partner built during the lockdown days when everyone was doing backyard improvements and baking bread. I thought about all the things my sister had meant to me throughout my life and about how much I had admired and loved her. Although we live in different countries, we always kept in close touch and routinely visited each other over the years. It was viscerally sad to me that somehow, propaganda machines had hooked her better angels and rerouted them onto a hellish path she did not see — one that looked strewn with hazards to me. I worried. I did not think it unreasonable that she could die a miserable, preventable death, with no vaccination against a virus that was killing millions of people in every part of the world, particularly in her age group.

Outrage machine

Yet I really shouldn’t have been surprised by my sister’s decision to refuse vaccination. For years, I had watched with increasing horror as her left-leaning politics gradually and then precipitously veered from a desire for social justice and a willingness to stand up for the underdog toward a vortex of far-right talking points that cast doubt on anything found in “the MSM” (that is, the mainstream media; the world of conspiracy theories is full of loaded jargon), preferring instead rants generated by blatant mis- and disinformation. I felt constantly sideswiped by her increasingly angry, irrational messages, coming via email, text, Facebook, Twitter (X), and WhatsApp. It pained me to think of someone spending their retirement years watching alarmist YouTube videos and sharing them with others (who most likely would not watch them) in a constant attempt to spread the outrage.

My sister, seeing herself as a committed peace activist, was causing a lot of conflict in her personal relationships. In her mind, it was those who did not believe as she did who were the problem. It was her job to relentlessly try to convert them to her way of seeing. Bombarded by this constantly, I began to feel like collateral damage, a casualty of what has come to be known as the culture wars.

I’m hardly alone in this experience. Many family relationships have been fractured in recent years by political polarization largely engendered by social media, which is used by those who seek wider audiences for political or financial gain and have discovered that extremism sells. Stories of people who have lost a family member or friend to conspiracy thinking now abound on the internet. Support groups also exist for those trying to come to terms with what has happened to a loved one. Therapists now see greater numbers of people who either believe in conspiracy theories or are dealing with someone close to them who does. Some psychologists suggest that, while belief in conspiracy theories is nothing new, it should now be treated as a public health issue.

I came to understand that the arrival of COVID-19, with its public health measures, mandates, and lockdowns, was more like a final straw for people like my sister, not a freshly discovered reason to hate governments and the evil cabals behind them. It was I who had been in denial about how monumental the shift was and how long it had been in the making. For a long time, I did what I thought was right. I tried to show her evidence that the information she was basing her views on was largely flawed, that reputable sources had thoroughly debunked the junk science and plain lies she now espoused, and that social media algorithms had perniciously infected the internet, planting falsehoods and manipulating opinion by exploiting people’s confirmation bias, placing them in filter bubbles that just keep reinforcing the worst, most extreme, usually wildly off-base beliefs. I even sent her academic papers by scholars who had studied the nature of contemporary propaganda coming from “news” sources my sister admired.

Persistence is futile

I am sure she did not read them, and I eventually understood that this “rational” approach was never going to work. Her views are based on belief and emotion, not fact or evidence. It was easy for her to dismiss all of my sources — and me along with them. She’d done her “research,” cherry-picking material that supported her pre-existing notions and rejecting as false anything that did not accord with these views. Others in her circle, lifelong friends, were as alarmed as I was and tried similarly to reason with her, again to no avail. It saddened me to see her alienate people she had known and loved for decades.

The barrage of falsehoods and rage intensified as the pandemic stretched on. She and a small number of brave, enlightened “dissidents” had “the truth” that others for some reason could not see, and she did not hesitate to tell us all this, over and over with monotonous, obsessive regularity. Nothing would change her mind. Arguing was pointless. When I asked her to stop sending anti-vax material, it offended her, serving only as proof of my closed mind and an unreasonable dismissiveness toward non-mainstream but perfectly valid ideas. While 30-second Google searches were enough to find ample evidence to debunk whatever or whoever she was defending, telling her this made no difference.

To be truthful, I was not always rational in my responses. I called nonsense many times, was dismissive of what I knew was insidious propaganda, and could not believe my sister did not see what was obvious to me. I regret some of my lashing out. So I changed tack at one point and told her simply that I loved her and was worried about her health while asking that she reconsider her sources of information. In response, she told me she was worried about my health (she believed vaccinations could damage DNA) and staunchly defended her sources. She stubbornly doubled down, no longer responding to friendly, non-political messages, which made me feel slighted and resentful. In her zeal, all that mattered was politics, and any other discussions were superficial and useless. One result was that we corresponded less often, but in the absence of communication, I continued to worry.

It affected my mental health — I lost sleep ruminating on how it was possible that this had happened and what I could or should do about it. I regaled my partner and friends with endless rants of my own whenever a new message arrived filled with wild untruths. I could not accept the reality and felt helpless to change the trajectory it seemed my sister was on — I didn’t know toward what, but in my mind, it was something bad. And it sometimes felt like boundaries were being crossed, as one person felt free to express themselves while the other knew they could not respond without having an argument. I got a lot of pounding headaches keeping my thoughts to myself.

At times, I wondered if my sister could continue this way. But I have learned that it is possible to believe in what seems preposterous, even damaging things, and still be able to function in the world. I have also learned, through therapy and time, that it is possible to have a relationship with my sister despite our differences, even if it is strained, even if she doesn’t always respond as I would want. It certainly makes for clumsy communications during the holiday season, as we swerve away from testy topics, but that will have to be the new normal if I want any sort of relationship with her.

It’s not possible to unpack every complexity of a family relationship in a short article. I am a kid sister, probably forever a hapless teenager in my sister’s mind. Why would she take seriously any criticism or concern I might have toward her choices and beliefs? There is nothing new about her doggedness, her willingness to stand up for what she thinks is right, and her comfort at being marginal in her opinions. (We do need to remind ourselves that, as amplified as the voices of disinformation are (thanks to social media), these voices remain a minority; in the case of COVID vaccination in Canada, 83.2 per cent of us did get shots; in older age groups and some regions, more than 95 per cent did).

While I cannot say I am at peace, I have edged toward acceptance. As a mutual friend wisely observed, your sis is an adult who has made her own choices and must live with them. They further suggested that I continue to send my newsy family messages, to not take the bait when she throws down what feels like insults to my intelligence — to keep the heat down as much as possible — and just carry on. It is difficult sometimes, and I still worry, but I do accept this as a necessary strategy.

And I do, and always will, love my sister.

Further reading: Five Tips for Starting a Conversation About Mental Health

Resource: Better Supporting the Mental Health of Older Adults in Canada