‘Responsible’, ‘reliable’, ‘helpful’, ‘organised’, ‘a good listener’, ‘the second mum’: these have all been words that I’ve been described with at some point in my life. I don’t dislike any of them, it’s nice to know that this is how people see me. But as everything does, these traits didn’t come out of thin air, and there is a specific demographic of people that have also been described in exactly the same way. Those of us known as eldest daughters. Being the eldest daughter may not necessarily mean you are the eldest child in your immediate family; you could be the second or third born after brothers but be the eldest daughter. Alternatively you could be an only child or the only girl and still be an eldest daughter but regardless, it doesn’t change the amount of pressure that comes with the role.
To recognize this, the term ‘eldest daughter syndrome’ gained traction on social media this year, shedding light on the shared challenges faced by eldest daughters. With #eldestdaughtersyndrome amassing over 31 million views on TikTok alone, it became evident that eldest daughters everywhere can relate to these universal difficulties. To briefly define the phenomenon, eldest daughter syndrome is described as ‘the unofficial, unpaid role of managing the family dynamic, foisted upon women from a young age because they have the emotional intelligence and age advantage’. This typically includes taking on more adult roles from a young age, for example, cooking and cleaning, looking after siblings, mediating family/parental disputes. For non-native English speakers this could also include having to translate official documents for parents, organising doctors appointments – the list goes on. This is something we may recognise as parentification, which is the role reversal of parents and children where children take on the role of the parent. Most eldest daughters have been parentified, taking on the roles their parents should have.
On a surface level, the role of the eldest daughter is one that should be worn with pride; after all, people respect you more, and you gain valuable skills that will be useful in adulthood, right? That’s right, but it’s also wrong. A common thing most eldest daughters will describe is ‘a stolen childhood,’ from having to take on adult roles from their childhood and not being able to ‘act their age’. Whilst all of this is common across all racial groups and cultures, I would say an extra layer is added to this when you are a WOC, specifically a black woman. It is no secret that black women have historically been the ones to hold families and communities together, even when it seemed impossible. It’s for this reason I feel as though black eldest daughters are almost expected to never crack, and to take on huge roles, even if they may not be equipped to do so.
We can blame the two infamous tropes the ‘mammy’ and the ‘strong black woman’ for this new layer of difficulty when it comes to black eldest daughters. Whilst the mammy trope constantly depicts black women in roles where they serve and care for others, the strong black woman trope presents black women as ‘superhuman’; they are affected by nothing and can press on without collapsing under the pressure. In this case, both the mammy trope and the strong black woman trope perfectly describe the black eldest daughter who is viewed from this lens.
It is already an expectation that black women are self-sacrificial – that they live to serve others, and essentially mould their identity around these ideas, whilst simultaneously staying unrealistically resilient and emotionless when things get difficult. When a maternal figure isn’t present (for whatever reason), eldest daughters are expected to take this role on, without complaints and must persevere. Black girls are effectively expected to abandon their childhood to take on more adult roles within the family, but not so much that they are seen as an adult. With this notion being so ingrained in eldest daughters, especially black eldest daughters, we slowly start to see the erasure of their lives and identities which have been tied to servitude. As I got older, this was something I had to reckon with.
Having grown up as the eldest daughter of four in an African immigrant household, the overwhelming feeling of responsibility was one I ended up internalising without even realising. When I was young, I enjoyed the responsibility that came with being the eldest daughter as it made me feel grown up. I would often run errands with my mum, help her cook and clean, pick up her housework if she was working late or had travelled and even became the secondary caregiver at the age of 8 to my newborn sister. Though this is seemingly standard, I felt I had a certain duty to my family before I even turned 10. I felt so grown up that I no longer wanted to play with kids my age, but rather sit with the adults. When you are young, being perceived as grown for your age is like being given the highest honour, but looking back now from my early twenties, the burden of this responsibility has gone on to impact my daily life. The same can also be said for many eldest daughters who have noticed how the role has impacted how they act outside of family settings.
Many first born daughters end up becoming chronic people pleasers, perfectionists, passive communicators and end up at risk of developing anxiety, depression and sometimes, post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). From always feeling obliged to look after their families, eldest daughters may also have issues forming and maintaining relationships and struggle to establish boundaries which ultimately continues the cycle of caregiving and giving more than you receive. As I mentioned before, the responsibility of being the eldest daughter has followed me into my life away from my family. I still find myself worrying about my little sister (who has just entered her teens), whilst being a notorious people pleaser, a passive communicator, a huge perfectionist, and the worst at creating boundaries with my friends, family and colleagues. There also seems to be a sense of mourning amongst eldest daughters, who may feel as though they have missed out on core childhood memories as they have had to act grown for most of their youth. This can become very difficult to accept later in adulthood.
Navigating eldest daughter syndrome, particularly as a black woman, can be really difficult as it is such an exclusive experience, that soon becomes ingrained in every aspect of your life. But as I’ve matured, I’ve been able to re-parent myself and learn healthier habits to navigate the world:
Be more selfish
We are often taught to put others before us, and place our self value on what we can give to others. Being giving and caring is an amazing trait to have, but you must always remember to first be caring and giving towards yourself. We have to unlearn teachings that tell us that we are responsible for everyone. It is very possible for you to prioritise yourself whilst still maintaining a good bond with your family.
Be realistic about your capacity, and firm about your boundaries
This is arguably the most difficult thing for eldest daughters, since our parentification has stemmed from the lack of respect towards our boundaries – but it’s never too late to start creating them. Learn how to start saying no to things that force you to overextend yourself, or that aren’t your responsibility. The right people will respect these boundaries, but the wrong people will get offended by this; this includes your parents, siblings and other (sometimes unexpected) figures in your life. Be helpful where you can and if you have the capacity to, but if this isn’t possible, make that clear.
Feed Your Inner Child During Adulthood
Eldest daughters can often find themselves grieving the childhood they could’ve had, but were never able to. But just because you are grown doesn’t mean you can’t indulge in some ‘childlike’ things. Do you remember that toy you wanted but could never get? It’s not too late to buy it for yourself! Get that ice cream, buy those snacks, watch that film or TV show, and do things your younger self would have wanted to do/try. Whilst you can’t bring back the past, you can always make the most of the present.
Seek external help
I would say that this is probably the most important thing on my extensive list, but seeking professional help will work wonders. Being the eldest daughter and dealing with parentification can cause a lot of hidden traumas that you never knew you had. Getting a professional to address these issues can really help you to process your emotions better and find a constructive way to move forward with your life. My less-expensive suggestion to therapy is the self help book, ‘I want to die but I want to eat tteokbokki’ by Baek Saehee. The book is a transcription of the author’s conversations with her therapist which cover a lot of the things eldest daughters may struggle with. If therapy is not accessible to you at this time, this book might be the next best thing in validating and understanding your experiences.
Find a community
Being the eldest daughter can be a very isolating experience and it can be fulfilling to have other people around you that understand your plights and concerns. For an online community, I personally follow homegirlsunite and eldestdaughterclub on Instagram. Home Girls Unite is particularly good for eldest daughters coming from immigrant backgrounds whilst Eldest Daughter Club is relatable for everyone everywhere. Both provide a positive online community of eldest daughters learning and healing together.
Finally, I’d like to say thank you to my fellow eldest daughters if you haven’t heard it already. Your expedited childhood did not go unnoticed, and I hope you can find some contentment in the good moments you did have. When I think of my time growing up, my happiest moments were when I was caring for my baby sister and watching her grow up into the person she is today.
Though being the eldest daughter can take a lot out of your life, the skills you learn are invaluable, and being able to care for your siblings can still be one of the biggest privileges you didn’t ask for. I hope those of you reading this know that you aren’t alone in unlearning and relearning your individual importance, outside of the care that you’ve poured into others. And I hope as the next generation of caregivers, we can break the narrative of pinning tremendous responsibility on girls who want to be just that – girls.
