The Purser Girls: Lauren, Natalie, Shannon, and Mary Grace. We are the real life Little Women. My eldest sister Lauren is the obedient, ever so cautious, sensible sister—very fitting with Meg’s traditional values. The second, Natalie, is Jo through and through. The most competitive and brash, she rallies us together, whether it is to unite against the common enemy—our parents—or to cause a little mischief. Then comes Shannon; the perceptive, reflective one. Perhaps the only Purser sister who knows to keep her mouth shut, sit back, and observe the chaos. Her quietness and introspection keeps in line with Beth’s personality. 

Lastly, there is me: the Amy of the bunch. Now I would be lying if I said that I adore being Amy. My sisters always ragged on me for being just like her because we were both annoying. They were right. Only now do I openly admit that Amy and I are similar. We both share a deep love for beauty, aesthetics, and refinery. Likewise, we are both equally dramatic, sensitive, and outspoken. Although, I’d like to think that I wouldn’t marry my sister’s old flame, but that's an argument for another day.

My point is not merely that we resemble the characters, but that our dynamic and sisterhood is a compelling force of nature much like the one Louisa May Alcott created. Anyone who knows me knows of my sisters. My flourishment was the object of their relentless pursuit and I am infinitely grateful for it. 

The four of us were raised in a conservative, Evangelical Christian household, meaning we were taught that our life’s purpose was to proselytize the message of God’s salvation to the world. In many ways, it was a deeply stifling childhood. My parents chose to homeschool us as a way of sheltering us from the harsh realities of public school. They thought that by doing so they could protect us, but instead it resulted in spiritual abuse and religious trauma that continues to be a source of pain.

During our homeschool years, we were sent to a co-op: a small homeschool community where we attended school once a week amongst other homeschooled Christian kids to receive our basic schooling. While there, I was taught to deny evolution’s existence and admonish it as something of the Devil. We had skits put on by students and there was a character named “Count Darwin” who was trying to deceive children with his message of evolution. I know, it sounds ridiculous and like a possible SNL skit, but this was my reality. 

Sex/relationships were a whole other issue in itself. When I was in just 6th grade, I was told to change my skirt because it went to my knees and skirts had to be mid-calf at the shortest. Girls were taught that modesty was the number one goal of a Christian woman. And yet, sexual misconduct and unwanted pregnancies became staple pieces of gossip in my homeschool community. Their hushed tones concerning sex coupled with abstinence-only teaching shockingly had the reverse effect. Perhaps it was also the rule that we must ask the headmaster for permission to date or “court” another individual, the cherry on top.

I’m telling you these excruciatingly embarrassing and unbelievable details about my experience because I need you to understand how bizarre and disorienting this was to live through, especially when you’re a middle schooler—which is already hell. But it was my sisters who got me through this hell.

Every time the four of us discuss our collective misfortune, we reflect on not only how laughable it all was but how it irreversibly warped our ideas of sex, religion, and authority. Our experiences there solidified our distrust in organized religion, conservatism, and the saddest part, our parents. There is a profound sorrow I feel knowing that my sisters and I are connected in that front—our lost faith in our parents after they immersed us into such a toxic culture. It deeply hurts us to have seen our parents slip away from reality and science, only to fall prey towards conspiratorial propaganda from far-right legalistic Christians. 

I know to most people, seeing that transition is angering but I think my sisters and I alike have shifted to a place of despair and pity rather than the deep-rooted resentment that used to inhibit us. It saddens me to know how misplaced their sadness is for me—they firmly believe my soul is lost to evil. I don't blame them for feeling genuinely hurt over that. It is a testament to how strongly they abide by their beliefs, and yet I so desperately wish that religious grip would lessen.

But my sisters? Well, you see they are the only ones who truly understand just how fucked up this all was because they lived through it. We lived through it. 

Shared trauma and pain is a perverse yet strangely sacred bond siblings have. You have to deal with the ramifications of your parents’ decisions together and boy, does that establish a lifelong connection! All four of us slowly deconstructed our beliefs and then became queer, witchcraft-practicing leftists (go figure). Our radical transformation really stemmed from our promise to hold each other accountable to the belief that we should always remain critical and never complacent. Many cannot say the same. 

Perhaps it was the moments in between the confusion and the pain that weaved our little tapestry of sisterhood. The moments when we had midnight sister seances, Barbie movie marathons, Waffle House excursions, weird church member impersonations, and of course, Little Women movie nights. My dear Meg, Jo, and Beth.

Just like in Little Women, my sisters and I have very distinct personalities and yet, we are kindred spirits. Sure, now we are a flight attendant, an anti-trust law researcher, an actress, and an aspiring journalist, but our likeness precedes all of that. We are the Purser girls and that title will always hold the utmost reverence to the four of us.