I’m a white Alabama native from an all-white town with a black sister who is 17 years younger than I. I love passing down the things that I enjoyed at her age- dolls, movies, books. For the most part, she likes receiving them too. The problem is that before she came along, my world was incredibly white. My childhood relics are images that don’t include her. From my white American Girl Dolls to Little Women, I have so much anxiety about what or how to pass down my treasured belongings to her. And then, I have anxiety about my anxiety. Isn’t that another form of controlling her story? But I think my own story was controlled, too. It lacks the complicated beauty of the story she and I now create together.