I am Jordan Casey, and I am currently twenty two years old and standing on the precipice of graduating from the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania. Last week, I reached out to my parents to finalize the logistics for my graduation ceremony, but my father answered the phone with his characteristically cold and dismissive tone.
“We simply cannot find the time to drive you to the commencement ceremony, so you will need to take the Greyhound bus,” he stated without a hint of hesitation in his voice. He continued by explaining that they were currently busy finalizing the purchase of a brand new Rolls-Royce for my younger sister, Kaylee.
Kaylee was only finishing high school, yet the familiar sting of blatant unfairness began to burn deep within my chest just as it had for many years. If you are currently following my story, please let me know which city you are from in the comments while hitting that like button and subscribing to follow my journey from a bus rider to a woman who made her parents drop their programs in utter shock.
Growing up in our massive estate in the suburbs of Maryland, I always felt as though I was living in the perpetual shadow of my younger sister. My father, Franklin Casey, served as the chief financial officer for a massive global corporation and was a man who was stern, methodical, and possessed impossibly high standards for everyone around him.
My mother, Victoria, was a highly celebrated neurosurgeon at a prominent hospital in Baltimore who was equally demanding in her own subtle and quiet way. Together, they cultivated a domestic environment where achieving absolute excellence was never celebrated because it was simply the baseline expectation for me.
When I was only four years old, my sister Kaylee was born into our family, and I still vividly remember the afternoon my parents brought her home from the hospital. She possessed these wide blue eyes and small tufts of golden hair that seemed to catch every single ray of sunlight entering the room.
From that specific moment, it felt as though the spotlight of our family had permanently shifted away from me and toward the new arrival. I transitioned instantly from being the center of attention to the reliable older child who was expected to provide a perfect example without needing any praise.
The pattern of favoritism began in small and subtle ways that I barely understood at the time. For my eighth birthday, I received a leather bound set of educational encyclopedias that my father deemed necessary for my intellectual development.
Only two months later, Kaylee turned four and was gifted a lavish princess themed gala complete with a rented pony that roamed our massive backyard for the entire afternoon. I tried to convince myself that she received more because she was younger and required additional attention, but as the years passed, the disparity only became more glaringly obvious to everyone.
Our annual family vacations were always centered around the specific whims and interests of Kaylee. If she decided she wanted to visit the theme parks in Orlando, then the entire family packed our bags and headed straight for Florida without any discussion.
When I expressed a deep interest in attending a prestigious summer science academy instead of our annual beach trip when I was twelve, my mother simply patted my head with a distant look. “Perhaps we can look into that next year, Jordan,” she said while she focused on packing Kaylee’s designer swimwear for the trip.
That promised next year never actually arrived for me. Academic achievements were another significant area where the double standard of our household was most painfully evident.
I worked tirelessly every single night to maintain a perfect grade point average while joining every academic club and debate competition available to me. My flawless report cards were usually met with nothing more than a cursory nod and a cold comment about how that was exactly what they expected from a girl with my resources.
