When she joined, I vowed to inspect her profile daily for possible predators, just as I had done with her older brothers. Instead, I discovered a long list of siblings I had never heard of. Within days of creating her Facebook profile, she had adopted several sisters, adding them to her “family” list alongside her real brothers.

Facebook sisters. What did this mean?

The fluidity fascinates me: click a button, adopt a sister; click again, lose a sister. Is this the new “blood brothers” for a high-tech generation?

I remember as a child wishing my best friend were my brother. We even went so far as to share drops of our blood from skinned knees and hands. “You’re my blood brother,” I said. “You’re my blood sister,” he said. It was private, just between us. We never told our parents or announced it to other friends. It was also an intimate act, exchanging our most vital fluid. We had to touch one another to do it. We had to commit: Once we shared blood, there was no removing it.  Then again, we could deny it. We could forget it. We did both.

At first I think my niece’s Facebook “sisters” represent a whole new conception of siblings and family, but then I see my sister doing this, too – adding her friend’s children as “nephews.” Maybe she did it because I don’t have children, and she wants to be an aunt. Or maybe the entire definition of family is shifting. Can social networks really expand our families?

Even still, there is something different about the way my niece adds these “sisters.” She does it without self-consciousness, without explanation. She plays with the list, changing people’s status as “sibling” or “friend.” I never see my sister doing that. She added her “nephews” and “niece” and left their statuses alone. Then again, she is their godmother, so perhaps this is just an extension of their offline relationship.

How would you feel if someone added you as a Facebook sibling? Have you witnessed your own children or siblings doing this? Do you add Facebook siblings?

But what if a sibling stole your identity for real? What if it was malicious, on purpose, and criminal? What if your own sibling killed you off for profit?

That is what happened to Douglas Arvil Daniels, whose brother, Jason Robert Daniels, has plead guilty to stealing Douglas’ identity to join the Marines and then faking his suicide as a cover up. He faked suicide so he could reap the monetary rewards “earned” under his brother’s identity while living as his “true self” again.

This crime is really quite profound: a brother reborn twice, once as his brother, and once as his brother’s “killer.”

Of course, it was probably easier for Jason Robert Daniels to steal his brother’s identity than a stranger’s: he probably knew his brother intimately, shared experiences with him, knew his addresses, knew his work history and probably had access to his social security number. They might have even looked alike, making it easy to use or fabricate fake ID. However, this crime seems to cut much deeper than that. This is sibling rivalry taken to a whole new level of maliciousness. This is about betrayal, not just criminal scheming.

How does a family even recover from this? How do siblings become siblings again? Can they?

Has a sibling ever stolen your identity–literally (as in the case above), or in that infinitely more murky way, refusing or refuting the validity of your experiences? On the flip side, have you ever wished you were your brother or sister? Have you stolen a sibling’s identity–anything from using your big sister’s ID to score beer to opening a fraudulent credit account?

What does “identity” mean when thinking about siblings? Do siblings even have distinct “identities” (in the sense that they can be separated out) to steal from one another?

Oh, that little red bicycle. I coveted that bike. Having outgrown my tricycle, I craved the freedom of two wheels. I longed to race down hills and pop wheelies with the boys in the neighborhood.

My sister knew this, and industrious schemer that she was, she made me pony up a nickel or dime every time I wanted to ride. Every. Single. Time. I resented her as I scrounged for change in my Tootsie-Roll penny bank.

When I sent the gift card, I asked her if she remembered her bike rental scheme.

“Nope,” she said. “I don’t remember that at all.”

Hm.

Mom does not remember it, either, but she laughed when I told her. “That sounds like her,” she said.

We reminisced about the time my sister bought everyone on her Christmas list 99-cent copper wire decorations from a clearance bin. Mom decided to teach her a lesson and forced her to take them back and find real gifts.

“Do you think she remembers that?” I asked.

We laughed. Probably not.

What about your siblings? Do you remember something they have forgotten? Or vice versa?

Siblings share so many experiences, and yet, they hold (and value) such different memories. Do you suspect your sibling(s) of selective forgetting? Have they ever accused you of the same? Why?

—From Psychology Today

What does your sibling know about you that no one else ever would — or could?

When a Brother or Sister Dies

Adults Grieving the Death of a Sibling

Have you lost a sibling? How did you grieve and how are you grieving?

— From the Mail Online

Do you compare yourself to your sibling? What secret thing do you blame on your brother or sister?

- from todaysthv.com

Does your family have reunions? Do you attend them? Dread them? Skip them?

- from KETV Omaha

How do siblings lose track, even with one traveling the world? It seems like it should be impossible, and yet, here are siblings separated for 52 years. Have you lost track of a sibling? Have you found the sibling again or are you still looking?

- from Chron.com

Have you ever fallen for the sibling of your sibling’s lover?

- from the Guardian

People often say this to me about my (half) brothers, as well as the (half) sister I recently discovered I have. But I recoil at the word “half.” It feels dishonest and downright dirty. But once people learn about my (half) brothers and sister, they demand that I define the relationship a certain way. I find it too exhausting to try and explain my connection to a (half) sister I never met, or a (half) brother who died from a heart attack 18 years after the last time I saw him, or another (half) brother I rarely see. So I catch myself using the word half and feeling like a liar the whole time. Sometimes, I wonder if my (half) siblings feel the same way. Maybe they prefer to keep me at arm’s length. Hell, maybe they would even call me a “fourth” sister. I do know that my older (half) brother calls me “little sister,” so I suspect he feels like I do.

Maybe I only eschew the term “half” because I yearn for a closer relationship with my (half) siblings.

Do you have (half) siblings? How do you feel about the term “half?” Does it ring true to you?