Amanda Washington-Lockett

To my sister Amanda:

Before I knew what it meant to have someone in my corner, I had you.

You didn’t have just the title of “big sister.” You were present, sacrificing and showing up in ways a kid never thinks to ask for and only understands much later, when he is grown and quiet enough to look back.

You did not have to show up for me and my twin brother John. But when it counted, you did, every time.

You were my hero and role model. You taught John and me the ropes on Super Mario 64. You became my most trusted counsel in my dating life. You were my best friend, my advisor, and on the right occasions, my partner-in-crime.

No one in the family debates that you carry forward, more visibly than anyone in our generation, the academic legacy of our great-great-grandfather, Booker T. Washington, with multiple degrees from prestigious schools. You built your career at the United Negro College Fund and became president of TM² Executive Search.

But before every high-profile title and degree, your first title was “big sister.”

I still remember the electricity of our solo sibling trips, with you treating John and me like we were the only two people who mattered. You lived in Washington, D.C. then, fresh out of college and working for Teach For America. As I write this at age 27, I do the math on what those outings actually cost. Your pockets weren’t lined with cash, but you never once let us feel that. I cannot recall a single moment when I doubted whether or not you would sacrifice for us. 

My brother and I were your first babies, a rehearsal for the family you would one day build. There is a saying I return to often: A mother is a son's first love, and a sister, reasonably, is his second. I was lucky. Both positions in my life were filled by women who showed up fully.

You showed up with midnight snack runs, drives to my plays and to marching band competitions, and the         wins you celebrated louder than anyone in the room. Then you turned right around and drove four hours back to Penn State to finish a dissertation. 

You know me better than almost anyone alive. If I had to describe you in one word, it would be “sacrifice.” Like spending Saturday nights with us when you could have been enjoying your 20s, or buying us candy when that money could have been spent anywhere else. I see that same instinct now driving you every day as a wife and mother. 

Amanda, I write this as a record of our relationship and of everything we have been through together. I want you to remember what makes us matter to each other. 

No matter how high you climb or how much your family might grow, never forget: I was one-half of your first set of babies.

Sincerely,

Noah Washington