A visitor shot pictures of Kendra and Maliyah Herrin at Disney World during a Make-A-Wish trip some years ago, presumably surprised to find two very similar daughters with one leg each.

They remember how harsh and unkind that was.

The two, 17-year-old Utah high school seniors, experienced that man’s behavior again. Despite their odd birth, they are typical siblings and teens.

Kendra and Maliyah Herrin shared a pelvis, kidney, liver, and one leg. At 4, Primary Children’s Hospital’s six surgeons and 25 support staff separated them in a 26-hour surgery. A small documentary, their mom’s book, and countless news reports covered the surgery. Oprah featured them multiple times.

Curious people have photographed and stared at them too many times before and after the 2006 operation. The experience has made them think about inclusiveness, diversity, and how to talk to diverse people. Their conclusion is simple.

“Speak up. Look away. Ask what occurred. Kendra suggests being respectful.

Maliyah nods. She advises kindness.

The Herrins discussed inclusiveness, impairments, and independence with the Deseret News as they approached adulthood.

The Herrin sisters say they know other disabled people who have been bullied, including another set of once conjoined twins who are teased for having one limb apiece. Theirs was better.

They say they’re rarely excluded by other teens because they grew up in their neighborhood and attend the same Latter-day Saints ward. Maliyah claims they, a third-grade mate, and a newer acquaintance do everything together.

Maliyah feels Utahns are friendlier. Kendra thinks being open about their life helps.

Both girls favor direct curiosity.

Maliyah explains, “Asking is better than staring.” Parents sometimes scold curious children. She prefers they have their kids come over and ask questions.

Since childhood, they’ve answered questions about their problems and why they each had one leg. They usually say doctors had to tear them apart with tiny kids. Their parents, Erin and Jake Herrin, told them that.

They freely discuss their physical constraints. Kendra claims Maliyah has stronger muscles. They use walkers at school and wheeled stools at home.

They rapidly covered some of their many enterprises.

They knew Maliyah would need a kidney transplant because they shared a kidney that Maliyah accessed through their shared liver (divided during separation surgery).

Their mom donated one soon after they were separated. Maliyah underwent another kidney transplant in May 2018. Dad Jake was not a match, but he donated a kidney through a “chain” when a family member donates to a match in another family who needs one.

Families can form chains. The girls joke that twin brothers Austin and Justin, sister Courtney, and nephew Ezra each have one kidney.

Maliyah required heart surgery, and both daughters had titanium rod surgeries to correct their backs. Kendra had surgery to straighten her leg by inserting a plate in her femur, which was later upgraded. Maliyah broke her back hopping on one leg at a bridal shower.

Rod replacements “are our least troublesome operations.” “Those are easy,” adds Kendra, who developed an infection that necessitated operations and delayed her from the first month of her senior year. She boldly claims A’s and B’s.

Many surgeries? Kendra sighs and Maliyah nods.

They never ignore polite questions.

“You don’t know their condition, so be kind,” Kendra advises both askers and individuals with disabilities.

Photographing? Never!

“You’re normal,” Kendra wants to remark. Would you mind if I took your picture? No!

Orange Sock
Personal experience is best for finding your voice. Kendra and Maliyah had been considering sharing their story with schoolchildren when a woman at a YouTube convention invited them to film a video about bullying and inclusiveness for Orange Socks. They’re working out the details.

Kendra, the more outgoing, recalls saying, “Of course.” Kendra dominates an interview, while Maliyah occasionally provides facts or fills in gaps. She uses “we” a lot.

“It’s great to be asked to officially talk about it,” she says.

Their Herrin Twins Facebook page and YouTube videos are popular. One has 115,000 views. On camera, bashful Maliyah is animated. She usually waits to talk.

Facing a large group of kids or making the movie with Orange Socks delights them. They may work with Stand Up for Kindness, whose anti-bullying motto is “from bystander to upstander,” at school assemblies. Like those two groups, the Herrins want everyone included regardless of differences.

Orange Socks connects disabled people and their families to resources and each other. Utahn Gerald Nebeker, whose daughter Vanessa, 18, has Down syndrome, founded it. Before she was born, he founded RISE Services Inc., a nonprofit that deinstitutionalizes disabled people and gives their families a venue to tell their story.

“We talk about a diverse culture and think of race, religion, and ethnicity, but we rarely consider disability,” Nebeker told the Deseret News. “Diversity enriches us.”

Orange Socks was called after a Texas roadside corpse. She was known as orange socks until she was identified.

Nebeker was startled by her namelessness. “She was symbolic of disabled people we reject, marginalize, and don’t employ.”

Orange socks only.

Nearing adulthood
The Herrin twins are excited and terrified about adulthood.

“No parents!” Kendra exclaims, then talks calmly. “But also different since I don’t think we’re as independent as other teenagers. We have heavy-lifting equipment.”

Since they’re almost adults, they may move from Primary Children’s Hospital. Even unexpected medical operations have taken place at Primary.

They appear alike but have distinct tastes, from color to cuisine. Maliyah has always liked yellow, but Kendra, who used to like purple, now prefers blue. Maliyah and Kendra don’t simply like spaghetti. They fight on where to eat with pals.

“It’s just a sibling thing,” Kendra shrugs. “We quarrel about nothing like siblings.”

They’re only starting to plan because the future always felt out of their grasp. After turning 18, Kendra may apply for phlebotomy jobs. She’s qualified because she’s had multiple blood draws.

Maliyah is undecided. Both are learning that.

Kendra’s driving. She’s licensed. Everyone chuckles when she says other drivers terrify her. However, that license has boosted their independence, which their parents always supported.

When the kids were 4 and approaching surgery, their mom predicted they would live full, happy lives and make their own decisions. No Herrin has doubted it on a shared voyage of surprises and trials.

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