“I’m tired,” I admitted to a friend one late afternoon, feeling the familiar prick of tears behind my eyes. “Like, really tired. Can’t even sleep,” I continue, knowing that if I exert any more effort, I’ll burst into tears.
Here, I am overextended. I am preparing to move out of my childhood home of 29 years to live with my boyfriend in a new place we’ve just signed a contract for.
In many ways, I am over the moon. He is a good man, very kind and gentle, and I love him. I am also excited to be independent for the first time and live by my own time and schedule.
But in other ways, I am terribly anxious. I keep worrying about my family needing this or that—to the point of making an entire Google document and sheet containing all the information they need. From where I buy everyone’s specialized birthday cakes and how to contact certain relatives to keeping tabs on everyone’s birthday and not forgetting tidbits about each family member.
Being the oldest sibling has come with expectations, obligations, and even outright responsibilities
I am surrounded by half-filled boxes and teetering piles of clothes. I’m wrapping little trinkets in scarves to make sure they don’t break during the journey. My books sit solemn in one stack across me as I balance my laptop on top of it during the video call.
My friend asks me, “What’s got you so tired?”
All at once, I imagine scenarios where my family will need me. I imagine closed doors and silent suffering or the screaming matches and hair-tearing. I think about my father’s impending retirement and my mother having to financially handle all my siblings for a bit. I pray no one gets COVID-19 again and that, if they do, everyone remembers how much the tests are in the Watson’s around the corner.
I think of my father’s silent yearning for a meal that everyone will hesitate to volunteer cooking and my mother’s concern as she comes to me to ask about one of my brothers. I think of the way my siblings’ faces stiffen when they’re hurt but refuse to speak to anyone else. I think of all the words that everyone wants to say at the dinner table, the ones only I will eventually hear and sit with for a long time.
“Being a role model to my brother was an unspoken rule. I was expected to excel and demonstrate a lot of what my brother struggled to achieve”
I shake as I inhale. “Am I abandoning them?” I clasp my hands inside a box of books, almost like I’m trying to remember how to pray.
“Is a home that falls apart when it loses you really something you are going to spend the rest of your life holding up as its only foundation? Or is it time you stopped raising your whole household to give yourself that grace and space to breathe for a second you should have had since you were a kid?” my friend answers.
When she says this, I hiccup and turn up my music so I can let out a wail, and then another, and then another.
Surrogate mothers and little middle women
Being the oldest sibling has come with expectations, obligations, and even outright responsibilities. It’s an age-old dynamic—you’re supposed to be the beacon for your siblings and how they should walk, talk, and behave. You don’t just hand down old clothes and toys, you become the blank board on which your parents draw their picture of obedience and excellence to be displayed for your younger siblings to emulate.
“As the first one to break out into the real world, I do feel like I’m testing the waters not just for me but for my siblings as well”
This is magnified in Asian households—whether East Asian, Southeast Asian, South Asian, etc. Being the eldest in an Asian household was pretty much a guarantee that your childhood was going to be taken very, very early.
Zoe, 29, echoes this. “Being a role model to my brother was an unspoken rule. I was expected to excel and demonstrate a lot of what my brother struggled to achieve,” she says.
Isabela, 27, agrees. “As the first one to break out into the real world, I do feel like I’m testing the waters not just for me but for my siblings as well.”
In recent years, however, more people have come to realize that eldest daughters in Asian households have a shared experience of added emotional upkeep. They’ve been subjected to parenting their entire families and were unrecognized and unappreciated for it.
It’s likely been this way for centuries, but the memes and jokes like “be her peace bro, she’s the eldest daughter in an Asian household” that have bubbled up on social media have become thinly veiled cries for help that other women have immediately attuned to.
In recent years, however, more people have come to realize that eldest daughters in Asian households have a shared experience of added emotional upkeep. They’ve been subjected to parenting their entire families and were unrecognized and unappreciated for it
Apart from the weight of being the panganay, eldest daughters also face sexist and conservative ideals, misogyny, and even religion.
Many older sisters felt this way. Chase, 32, says, “I was told ‘kababae mong tao,’ and I was expected not to fail or that I’m not supposed to do things that are conventionally masculine like riding a motorcycle, heading home late at night, or taking an interest in video games, and I even was told to pick a ‘feminine-leaning’ field like nursing or education.”
For Anon B, 32, she noticed that her parents were much harsher on her compared to her younger brother. “My family were softer on my brother. As a child, I did resent seeing this happen that they coddled him more than they did me.”
Most of the time, we were expected to prop everyone up, upkeep tenuous bonds, manage everyone’s emotions, and do chores while simultaneously being undermined and doubted by virtue of our gender.
Apart from the weight of being the panganay, eldest daughters also face sexist and conservative ideals, misogyny, and even religion
This echoes how society deems domestic labor non-existent. People don’t believe that cooking, cleaning, and mediating family ties is even “real work” because it doesn’t earn anything monetary, which is a dangerous rabbit hole to go down.
This also feeds the sexist celebration and coddling of masculinity and the belief that women should be naturals at caring and nurturing. Sticking with the stereotype burdens little girls to adhere to it and only hurts them.
Not only did eldest daughters become surrogate mothers, but they also became the middle women for arguments or fights. “My parents were emotionally immature. Found myself mediating a lot between their arguments,” says Anon B.
It fell to us to become logical, but not too logical, emotional, but just enough to feel compassion for whoever was angry. We were tasked to be understanding and to listen and then deescalate situations—even encourage patience and forgiveness.
When Anon A spoke out against this proposed necessity by her parents, she was shamed for it. “When I started saying no, I was labeled selfish, irresponsible, and apathetic.”
Not only did eldest daughters become surrogate mothers, but they also became the middle women for arguments or fights.
Anon C, 38, was also dragged into arguments. “My parents had lots of fights when I was growing up. I had to be present in some. I would even end up arguing for my mom against my dad. I would get dragged into talking endlessly with them until the wee hours of the morning. I was a kid. I didn’t know a thing, and thinking about it now, it sucks.”
When it came to chores, some households depended solely on their daughters to learn them—especially the eldest. While some stressed that all their children should learn to cook and clean, there was still a disparity of expectations.
“It was expected that I do chores by default, whereas my brother’s main household chore was taking out the trash or cleaning his room; anything involving cleaning and cooking was secondary for him but primary for me,” says Chase.
Anon A, 27, says her mother would “entrust [a] list [of groceries and chore schedules] to me and make it my responsibility to make sure that our maid and my dad abide by that list” whenever her mother would go on business trips.
“It was expected that I do chores by default, whereas my brother’s main household chore was taking out the trash or cleaning his room; anything involving cleaning and cooking was secondary for him but primary for me”
“I was also entrusted to make a bottle of milk for my sister when she was a baby and watch over her and make sure our maids at the time weren’t hurting my sister. Managing my sister’s afternoon sumpong also became my responsibility. Then, making sure my sister didn’t lose stuff in school when we were in grade school already and that she didn’t get bullied or get in trouble,” Anon A continues.
She also describes how she would be punished for any of her younger sister’s mistakes. “That part always bugged me ‘cause I would get spanked and scolded. It was logistically impossible for me to watch her all the time since we were in different grades and I had different schedules. I literally could not control my sister, so I didn’t understand how I was supposed to take responsibility for things she did without me there.”
“Since I was the first to go to school and learn, I tutored all my brothers. I didn’t really enjoy doing that, but I thought it was my job to do so. And people get paid tutoring. I was a kid, I did it for free. I would also cover my and my brothers’ books and notebooks in plastic,” Anon C says.
Gendered domestic labor
Domestic work is often attributed to the feminine. No one batted an eye that my brothers didn’t know how to use a washing machine. But someone seemed offended at the idea that I potentially didn’t (I did) and I asked them why that was.
“’Cause you know, all my sisters do. So does my mom.”
I told him, “I’m not your sister. Or your mom.”
“I mean,‘cause you’re a girl and you were the eldest girl.”
“Do you know how to use one?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “No, but because my ate does. So I don’t have to.”
This mirrored many Filipino households. Anon C says, “In a way, it felt like my brothers had an added air of pride because they were boys who could do chores.”
Among Anon A’s implied duties was “making sure my dad stayed in line, didn’t add random things while we were grocery shopping, didn’t make us eat junk food a lot.”
She continues, “My dad was shit at doing household chores. He’d break stuff and burn food. Which I also did ’cause I was clumsy and had undiagnosed ADHD, but my mother was sure to let me know that that wasn’t acceptable.”
Me, myself, and the Evelyns of the world
It was heartbreaking to watch “Everything, Everywhere, All At Once.” When Evelyn was born, the doctor expressed regret instead of congratulations. Even more heartbreaking was seeing other Asian daughters online say “lol same” because it happened to them too.
Many Asian cultures still dread having daughters as they can’t carry on the family name and will only elevate the family if another man is interested in them. So they become scapegoats and vigilantes all at once—they are detested for their gender but relied on because of the invisible labor they are expected to uphold anyway as some kind of penance for being born a girl.
Many Asian cultures still dread having daughters as they can’t carry on the family name and will only elevate the family if another man is interested in them. So they become scapegoats and vigilantes all at once
It’s like there’s no winning. Parents are too busy, brothers don’t have to do anything, younger sisters may also receive some semblance of this gendered labor, but the eldest is often the one paying the biggest price.
Learn to nurture the family you’re supposed to love without question. It’s okay if boys don’t do it because they’re boys—they have better things to do. But you, by virtue of the genitals you were born with, must care and nurture.
This was only exacerbated in Catholic school where I was told, verbatim, that all I was was an incubator. I was made to be filled up with babies, to care for them, and then to play house. I was not meant to have other ambitions—I was a girl.
I asked why it was so stressed that we were learning so much about homemaking for our extra subjects, but my brothers in a nearby boys’ school were able to pick and choose extracurriculars like robotics, drafting, etc. I was told it was because it was up to us, as upstart Catholic women, to keep our homes together.
“But what if I’m working?” I asked.
“You do both. As a mother and a wife to a good man, you will just know how.”
To “just know how” felt like such a cop-out. It was ridiculous to go to this school and be told to be one thing but not told how. And then, to be humiliated and scolded for not being that thing. Anon A echoes this, saying, “Whenever we’d be left in my grandma’s house, the adults would tell me to watch over my younger siblings. Since I expressed no interest or diligence in doing so, I was shamed for being unreliable, unfeeling, and selfish.”
“Whenever we’d be left in my grandma’s house, the adults would tell me to watch over my younger siblings. Since I expressed no interest or diligence in doing so, I was shamed for being unreliable, unfeeling, and selfish”
This expectation has even extended to taking care of people outside the family. Because I behaved well in class, didn’t ask questions, and followed instructions well, I was constantly seated with more “difficult” classmates—some boys in kindergarten too.
My teachers, frazzled, would ask me to help get them to behave and say it was because I was “such a good girl.” My ego did not inflate at this, however, and I bemoaned the task of having to watch over boys even in school, just as I did at home.
I didn’t appreciate the extra task when I was in school to learn and make friends, not to babysit. I understood that my teachers were likely at full capacity and were probably not being paid fairly, but I didn’t see why it became my job to have to handle others who weren’t being scolded for their disruptiveness when I was being shamed for not wanting to deal with them.
Learning love and letting go
My boyfriend, as I was typing away at work, came into our bedroom once and thanked me for always refilling the ice tray.
“I appreciate you—I never said it, but I’ve been meaning to. It’s nice to not have to worry about ice.”
It was so mundane, but I was so taken aback by his gratitude.
I just blushed and said I just like making our home functional and easy.
Later, I figured out it was because I had never been seen for the small things I had been expected to do. It was odd and simultaneously heartwarming to be recognized for such a small thing, but I was touched all the same.
I found myself in the same vein of thinking when he would come home with small trinkets and gifts for me, “just because.” I had grown to only anticipate anything of the sort because I’d “worked to deserve it.” I asked once, “Why did you get me this? What did I do?” Had I earned it?
He looked puzzled. “I just wanted to.”
It sat with me in the most profound way. I didn’t need to do anything to be on the other end of thoughtfulness.
There’s still plenty I am unlearning when it comes to being away from my household now. I am slowly giving myself more grace now that I no longer live with my family, and yet still sometimes have to do a lot of emotional heavy lifting even from far away.
For many, after finding their own voices and independence, the aftershocks of having to keep an entire household afloat still stay with them, too.
Anon B says about feeling like she had to take care of everyone even after leaving home. “It did feel like my job in a relationship was to solve everyone’s problems. That’s what my parents expected of me with my brother and with me when they told me about their issues.”
For many, after finding their own voices and independence, the aftershocks of having to keep an entire household afloat still stay with them, too
She continued to fall into the habit of taking care of people, as that’s how she understood love.
Anon C walked away from her household confused and trying to find a better way to find answers. “I think I have had a ton of toxic traits because of this. I had no boundaries. I didn’t know how to control my rage, which is my go-to emotion, even if you show me love. I rebel a lot. I had tons of dysfunctional relationships. Took a lot of therapy,” she says.
Many eldest daughters, once at last physically away from their households, feel like they have to continue this act of surrogacy. A lot of us tend to parent our friends and loved ones, going beyond just funny “mom friend” stereotypes of handbags full of goodies to becoming overly emotionally available to the point of burnout.
Boundaries become difficult to establish, especially for ourselves, because we were asked for such limitless amounts of understanding and patience and were told that that was love. We were told constantly to turn the other cheek and to be obedient and grateful for it, even if we were being bludgeoned by a burden we should never have carried at all.
Giving yourself grace
It’d be disingenuous to dismiss the plight of male panganays as well. They definitely don’t have it easy, as a lot of them are also treated pretty severely in the guise of making them “tougher” or “manlier,” and many have suffered other types of expectations.
Male panganays are often saddled with the continuation of the family and are tasked with being breadwinners to secure that.
It’s difficult to trade in your childhood for something you never chose—especially knowing in adulthood that you weren’t supposed to even be exchanging something as fleeting as childhood joy in the first place.
To any eldest daughter still finding it in her to give herself grace, take your time. Those burdens should have never been yours, and it’s okay to navigate the rest of your life without having to worry constantly about how people will respond to your absence.
You are long overdue to making your own life—with or without the people you have propped up for so long.
Art by Ella Lambio
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