Samantha and Rebecca barely went to school until they were 14. They both went on to become lawyers
Identical twins Samantha Lee and Rebecca Wood, 54, survived a horrific and violent childhood. Even though they barely went to school until the age of 14, they both became lawyers. But the trauma left its mark.
Rebecca: Sam and I grew up in a runaway family, living in cars and motels, in and out of children’s homes. Our father suffered from severe drug-induced psychotic episodes and was a petty criminal; My mother had manic depression. Our brother Carl was a year older; Our little sister was raised at an early age.
Our first memories are of our father’s extreme violence; like being thrown against walls and knocked unconscious, or watching your sister’s head hit the kitchen sink over and over again. It creates a certain sibling dynamic where everyone tries to defend themselves. Our father would throw one of us against the wall, then pick us up and say, “Tell your brothers you’re okay.” And you would do it, despite the terror and tears.
When Sam and I were about six years old, the three of us were made wards of the state and placed in a children’s home. [Allambie Reception Centre in Victoria’s Burwood]. One day, my father kidnapped us, triggering a massive manhunt. We still remember that the police found us and broke down the door. Then, incredibly, we were sent back to my father.
Most of the time he would go out first thing and not come back until 9 or 10pm, leaving us in a small motel room. You ended up hating each other: there was no escape, only the tension of who would make it when he came back. Then you would have normal days where you would all cook dinner together.
You might think that such a childhood would bring you closer, but with so many horrors you can become disconnected. One time, though, when we were living with our mother in Sydney and she was going through a bad time, she sent Sam and Carl to Melbourne where our father was in prison. He kept me with him. As I stood at the train station, I thought: “I’ll never see Sam again.” I knew then that there was a bond between the twins. Once it’s taken away from you, you realize you want to keep it. This is the love you know.
We had to acknowledge how our childhood had stained our relationship: siblings are reminders of history. Our father always treated Sam as if he were much older; I was always treated like a baby, treated like I was hopeless. I still feel like Sam thinks he’s superior to me.
We followed similar paths. We both care about social justice. Sam has worked in social work and currently works as a solicitor at Redfern Law Centre. I also studied social work and law; Just to prove that I can do it, I guess. There’s some competitiveness there. Sam has a son and I have twin daughters. We both broke up recently.
We love each other – Sam is caring and generous with his time – but we also push each other’s buttons. My filter is biased toward the negative, so I’m more likely to point out what he’s doing wrong instead of right, but he’s not actually doing anything wrong! We are set up to fail in our relationship and are trying to repair our bond; Our children were like a sea wall against all this violence. There was a beautiful moment when Sam gave birth to her son in 2009. The past has been erased. We trusted and needed each other in such a busy time. I felt, “He is my blood; I am his sister.”
-Samantha: As children, we were acutely aware of our father’s moods, and these moods could be cruel. There was a lot of violence, such as my father breaking my mother’s front teeth, tying her naked to a chair, beating her, and hitting her face with an iron. He would drag us across the room by our hair or drop us on the floor. He could quickly go from very loving to very violent.
My father was constantly in and out of jail. We moved from state to state, not going to school regularly until we went to live in a Salvation Army children’s home. [in Sydney’s Stanmore] When we were about 14 years old.
Bec, Carl and I became our own survival unit. We still managed to have fun, although looking back you wonder how it happened. There were moments when we tried to be brave, but they were very few. Most of the time we were terrified and would hide in our room and try to comfort each other. We would play imaginary games and go for lots of walks. Monkey bar races were a big break.
As identical twins, Rebecca and I were close, but our father always positioned me as the “older one” and targeted me more. It created a sense of separation between us. Bec witnessed me being hurt and this had an impact on her as well as being positioned as “little”. There were times when we were fostered or adopted separately, which might have made it easier to find a place, but we never accepted that. That bond helped us keep going.
Bec and I lived in the same room at the Salvation Army house, went to high school together, had the same friends, fought over the same kids, and when we had to separate at 18, we went to college and rented a small flat together. I loved having our own place.
We both had children and there was a great desire to create a new story, to be a very different kind of parent. What were our parents and role models? Negative to be like. You don’t want to put your trauma on your children, but I still have nightmares and so does Bec. And yet he managed to get out of a truly terrible situation with his sense of humor intact; still able to love, feel compassion, and have the urge to participate in life. He is much more of a risk taker and more financially savvy than I am.
There is a strong connection, but we also experienced major disconnects. He can be very outspoken. Bec had always felt a bit in my shadow, that I thought I was better than her, that I took up too much space. This was founded by my father from the very beginning.
I know he loves me very much, but I wish he could see himself, his potential, beyond me. Unfortunately, you can’t tell someone to feel better, especially since one of their annoying habits is to stop talking if they don’t like how it’s going! We may not talk to each other for a few weeks after a painful encounter, but we always reconnect. No matter what, I can’t let him go. This twin thing is like a magnet.
If you or someone you know needs support, call National Sexual Assault, Domestic and Domestic Violence Counseling Service 1800RESPECT (1800 737 732).
Read more Have a nice weekend, both of us. colon:
Get the best moments of the Good Weekend delivered to your inbox every Saturday morning. Subscribe to our newsletter.
