As an identical twin, I’m used to pointed fingers, stares and whispers. I’ve explained countless times that “twin telepathy” isn’t a thing, and that if my sister broke her leg then my own wouldn’t combust. And I knew, when we were both admitted to the same university, that it I’d be hearing these questions all over again from a new set of people.
Growing up, my sister Yasemin and I have always been the best of friends. Throughout school we were encouraged to work together, the words “complementary skills” were thrown around, and everybody saw double and enjoyed our cute unique selling point.
Every year a story makes the papers about twins who got the same grades and are moving on to study at the same university. For us it was no different – in only one subject did we not get exactly the same mark (there was a 1% difference).
With our faces pressed against the car windows, we headed off to Birmingham City University. We were to live in the same flat, to save on costs, and had signed up to the same course – though with different specialisms.
We were led to believe that we could do the course and not be in every class together. It quickly became obvious that seminar groups were decided by surname, and we found each other together more than we had expected.
One lecturer told us: “I sense there may be a slightly competitive thing going on, where you work to keep up with each other, but this is a positive thing in your case.”
There are also downsides to studying with a twin. We have double the worry waiting for marks, not wanting the other to be disheartened. You can’t help but feel your sister’s stress about her assignments – on top of having to deal with your own.
It’s almost like, if one of us sinks, so does the other.
On the social front, being a twin is a guaranteed conversation starter. Nobody is going to talk about the weather when the people in front of you came from the same egg. It’s hard to be your own person when your shared genetics are everybody’s first impression.
Our classmates assumed we were a twin clique, and didn’t want anybody else. We became thought of as one person, despite the fact that my sister is a frill-wearing, girly girl with glittery eye shadow, while I’m a monochrome-wearing coffee addict with cat eyeliner.
Lucy Wells is a fresher at Reading University with her identical twin, Sian: “I would definitely say that we have become a lot more independent, here at uni, than we were at home. But I think that applies to everybody, twin or not.
“At first I was apprehensive about our living together – we wanted to have separate friends just because we’ve always known the same people and shared the same experiences. But I’m enjoying living and studying with Sian more than I thought I would.
“It is nice if we get the same homework, it’s easier to do as a pair. It’s nice to be able to cook dinner together, but also have our own separate bedrooms and space. Even being able to go to bed and turn the light off is a big thing, without having to consult the other person.”
Back in Birmingham, we find that on nights out, our IDs are triple-checked before we are allowed in to clubs. Boys have asked: “How can I choose between you?” – as if we were making them. People even ask for photos, like we are a freak show.
Imagine dancing with a guy you fancy, with your sister just a few paces away. When I told him my sister was in a four-year relationship, he grinned and inquired, “Has he ever snogged you by accident?” Like, what?
Then there’s going home. Being in a long-distance relationship, my sister had good reason to go home and she made the trip regularly. I, on the other hand, had no need to leave my university friends. But I felt guilty if I didn’t go home and see my family when she did.
Don’t get me wrong, the pros probably outweigh the cons. We’re able to share food, and help each other with assignments. Revision notes are shortened, and we have one Netflix account between us.
How independent can you truly be though, if you are barely ever on your own? I often think about what sort of person I would I be if we had gone to different universities. Would I be more confident, or more homesick? Have more friends, or be completely on my own? I’d miss her, that’s for sure.
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