My name is Lauren Mitchell, and I grew up in Portland, Oregon, as the oldest of two daughters. My sister Hannah is 5 years younger than me. Our parents, Patricia and Robert Mitchell, owned a successful chain of boutique hotels across the Pacific Northwest. Money was never an issue in our household. Love and equality, however, were a different story entirely.

Hannah was born with a congenital heart condition that required surgeries throughout her childhood. My parents poured everything into her recovery, which I understood. What I didn’t understand was why that attention never shifted back, even after she was declared completely healthy at age 12. By then, the pattern had been set.

Hannah was the precious one, the miracle child, the golden daughter who could do no wrong. I learned early to be invisible. While Hannah received a new car for her 16th birthday, I was told that my part-time job at a bookstore would teach me responsibility. When she struggled with algebra, my parents hired an expensive tutor. When I needed help with calculus, my father handed me a library card and told me to figure it out. Hannah went to the University of Southern California on my parents’ dime. I went to Portland State on scholarships and student loans.