During their 20-year career, twins Tegan and Sara Quin have released 10 studio albums and sold more than 1m records of off-kilter, emotional pop. Most recently, they have adapted their acclaimed 2019 memoir, High School, into an Amazon TV series chronicling their transformative teen years. The sisters live in Vancouver, British Columbia.
Sara
This is from an era of photos where we have these terrible, unstylish haircuts, but we were so confident. We look like young estate agents posing at the opening of our own shop. We’d cut our long hair off, and while I don’t know if we fully understood our gender expression at the age of seven, I can see the change in how we carried ourselves. We had this chest-forward self-belief that breaks my heart.
My mom would take us annually, sometimes twice a year, to get photos done at the mall. It was always a drama, because she wanted us to dress up and be feminine. We were unfussy, scrappy and liked wearing sweatpants and no shirts. Whatever battle we had had that day, we must have won, as we clearly picked our own outfits.
Tegan and I got on really well until middle school. Tegan was a much more outwardly emotional kid than me. She would cry on the first day of term because she wanted to be in the same class as me, and I’d get dragged over to comfort her. I was more of a stoic keep-my-feelings-to-myself type.
While we weren’t “popular kids”, we were popular as we were cute twins who were funny and goofy. We liked all the same things, but would often have individual interests. I was more serious than Tegan. I loved to read the newspaper or to draw – introverted activities – whereas Tegan was always putting on performances or instructing our friends to do lip-syncing. Tegan really got into clowns around this age and I was like: “Yeah, I just don’t feel it. Good luck with your clown thing, but I’m good.”
Adolescence was when I started to understand a few things about myself, about my sexuality, that I had always known but now had a word for. I wanted to keep it all from Tegan, and it was the first time I’d felt like that. A lot of our turmoil during our teens came from me withdrawing and building a new life without her. I also thought I understood who Tegan was more than Tegan did. I was like: “She’s gay. Does she not know she’s gay?”
One thing that helped bring us together was when we were both at different levels of intoxication – whether it was drinking or doing acid. There was such a primal instinct to protect each other when we were in that state. When I think about our conflict and how divided we became as teens, the secrets and tensions, I still knew she was the most important person in the world. In some ways, drugs helped us tap back into that fundamental familial feeling.
Because we look the same and sound the same and make music, we’ve spent our whole lives trying to individuate. Even at 42, I feel like we’re still convincing people we are different. Tegan is great. I’m not trying to say she sucks – “don’t confuse me with her!” – but there’s something disorienting about being mistaken. It’s almost like you’re being told your identity is not that important.
This photo makes me feel emotional because back then we didn’t know how far apart we’d drift. In some ways, we’re more like our seven-year-old selves than we ever have been. Our relationship is still challenging, but we’ve come back to each other.
Tegan
I have a lot of visceral memories of being dressed up and having my photo taken, but I don’t remember this one. My mom was so fashionable and there would be moments where she’d choose our outfits. Tucking in a shirt and wearing a belt are not things I would have done naturally; it’s so clear we were styled by our mom.
I have a wider jaw than Sara. Sara needed a retainer because her teeth were crowded when she was a kid, while mine weren’t, so her face is more narrow and heart-shaped. Generally speaking, I’ve always been the more unkempt one; Sara always looks more together. Energetically, I’m a more tousled person, too.
They say there’s always one twin who likes being a twin and one who rejects it, but I don’t think Sara rejected me until later in life. As children we embraced our twinness. It was a little like being famous; we were used to people looking at us by the time we became musicians and more well known.
Our separation started during puberty. In different ways and at different rates we started to understand we were queer. When I was young, I equated sexuality with sex, so talking about it with my family was super uncomfortable. There was also a natural desperation to be seen as an individual. That’s when things got complicated. It started then, and it’s ongoing.
When Sara moved away from me from Vancouver to Montreal in our early 20s, I felt inconvenienced. Our managers, our lawyer, everything to do with the band was in Vancouver so I became overwhelmed by work. She didn’t have the internet for the first year; talking on the phone was really expensive; she was three hours ahead – all these things made me feel burdened. I screamed at her on the phone, on tour. I sent her angry emails. She wanted to have an escape and an adventure in another city, but we became so furious with each other.
Now, Sara and I actively explore our problems. We have a therapist we see together; it’s important for us to figure out how to communicate. Like any other couple or business relationship, we have to learn. We do interviews and stand on stage, but it’s rare we sit in a room and say: “Hey, you fucking annoy me and I hate being around you.” It’s hard to do, but good if you have a mediator.
We used to fight a bit, there were moments we’d be physical, especially as little kids. We can be very destructive. We can be very cruel, but that’s because we feel safe to do it to each other. Sara is an introvert and she will boil and boil then explode. I am irritatingly calm and just poke the bear. But these days it’s pretty rare. Those moments that really explode, they are the ones that make us go: “OK, something is wrong in the dynamic, let’s figure it out.” It is often when our band is most popular. There are too many demands, no boundaries, and we are sharing hotel rooms.
Sara and I don’t do activities together – she would never call and say, “Do you want to go to a movie?” – but when we are with each other we do enjoy our company. And she’s always been so protective of me. When we were kids I was inconsolable when we were separated, and she would come and comfort me. In adulthood, I feel that same sense of support, too. We always say the quickest way to stop a fight between us is to pick a side. One of us will immediately go to protect the other one.
