i'm diagnosed with oldest daughter syndrome
tw: family conflict, cultural expectations, emotional struggles.
Sorry for adding another voice to the endless chatter about being the oldest daughter, but I’ve seen so many people share their experiences that I thought, why not share mine? I promise you, this will be different. But before diving into my story, I suggest you check out KB's post. Her piece inspired me to finally share my own.
First off, let’s get the most common narrative out of the way: the “I had to look after my siblings” and “I love my siblings” talk. Well, that’s where my story starts to diverge. You see, I’m an Indian girl, born into a traditional Indian household where gender role stereotypes were still strong in the 2000s. And being the oldest daughter came with its own long list of responsibilities—more than just sibling care.
To paint a picture: by the time I was 8 or 9, I was already tasked with house chores such as mopping, sweeping, dusting, washing dishes, performing prayer rituals, cleaning the house entrance, folding freshly washed clothes, you name it. These tasks weren’t occasional; they were daily. On top of attending school and maintaining good grades. Saying no was never an option. It was compulsory. If I didn’t comply, I’d be scolded or lectured about not being a “proper girl.” My young mind didn’t realize this wasn’t the norm outside Indian culture until I started watching Western movies and TV shows. Seeing how kids were portrayed as carefree and unburdened was a contrast to my caged life.
Now, My sibling and I have a 5 year age gap. When I was burdened with duties, he was just a toddler so I didn’t think much about him not having to do anything. But by the time I turned 13, I realized something infuriating. My brother had zero responsibilities. While I was scrutinized for every little thing. Being told to “behave like a proper girl”, not to shame the family’s name. He was free from such. That’s when my villain arc began. (literally) I resented my parents’ son and to this day, I still do.
To understand how deep my resentment goes, let’s rewind to when he was born. My mom had just given birth, and I was brought to the hospital to meet my “new brother.” But guess what? I didn’t even go near him. I was so stubborn that I refused to move from where I stood, far from his crib. My face was bitter. I was only 5, but people labeled me as the “jealous sister,” assuming I didn’t like him because he was born with lighter skin than me. Talk about nonsense. I was just a kid. I didn’t know or care about skin tone.
The truth is, I simply didn’t feel any connection to him, and that never changed. While I went about my life, playing with my toys and minding my business, he remained a stranger to me. The gender role stereotypes only made things worse. As a child, I was raised by relatives until I was about 4 or 5 because of my family’s financial struggles. My parents only saw me once a week. But when he was born, my mom stayed home and showered him with care and love. Seeing him enjoy a carefree childhood, the opposite of what I went through, only deepened my resentment. My life was unfair.
My hatred wasn’t just emotional; it was physical too. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I’d pinch or be aggressive when he did something to piss me off. This made my parents afraid to leave me alone with him (so no, i hadn't asked to look after my sibling). I got scolded for it, of course and my grandma would even threaten to “call the police” accusing me of “abusing her grandson.” I was her granddaughter too (that's another story).
My only outlet was school. I worked hard to be noticed, to stand out. And when I did get good grades, people would congratulate me—for a day. Then, everything went back to normal. That was my life for 15 years. It’s still like this. My brother and I? Still strangers. He knows his place in the family, and he plays it well. He knows people will always believe him over me, so he feels superior. There are countless times when he’s accused me of something he did, and I’d bear the consequences because he’s the youngest and his word is gospel. I’ve never had anyone to pour my heart out to because everyone blamed me. I was the oldest; I was supposed to sacrifice and understand. He was everyone’s favorite, while I was just… there, getting compared to him. Even my dark skin was held against me. In school, I was bullied for my complexion, and at home, I was told to lighten my skin or “I’d never find a husband”.
But amidst all this, I found comfort in space and astronomy (sorry, i know you're tired of me). The universe became my escape, my obsession. When life was too much, I looked to the stars. I was so alone, mentally disturbed, and stressed, even at such a young age. They were my companions.
Despite all my efforts, I was always overlooked. He got praised for the bare minimum, while I was criticized no matter how much I did. The pressure was unbearable. I often wondered how different my life would have been if it were just me. The responsibilities would still be there, but there wouldn’t be another human being showing off his easy life. I wouldn’t have been compared, and maybe, just maybe, people would have noticed me.
These stresses forced me to mature faster. I never got to experience what it meant to be a kid. While I watched my brother enjoy a carefree life, I was burdened with endless expectations.
But by the time I turned 16, I had enough. I stood up for myself. Not caring about the opinions of “Indian aunties”. I became cold, defiant, and questioned everything. So, it’s no surprise that people around me don’t think highly of me. To them, I’m a brat who needs discipline. But I couldn’t care less. I’m done with trying to please everyone. I just do my thing and mind my business. That’s why the “family first” mantra doesn’t resonate with me. I’ve never felt appreciated by my family, so I don’t feel any connection to them. I just want to get away.
There were so many times I wanted to pack up and run away. But I knew how it would be perceived. If I left, I’d be labeled a slut, with rumors that I “eloped with her boyfriend.” The constraints were suffocating. And therapy? Forget it. There’s no such thing as mental health in an Indian household. Talking about depression or sadness is met with dismissal. “You have no right to be depressed! you’re not the one putting a roof over your head” they say.
Everything was restricted—dating, clothes, social media, even how I dressed. It was a life of endless limitations, where even the simplest of joys were seen as threats to the family’s honor.
The root of all this madness? Parenting. Sadly, some Indian families are still stuck in old-school mindsets (emphasis on the word “some”), clinging to outdated stereotypes and gender roles. The cycle is tough to break, and the lack of higher education only makes it worse.
But I’m so glad to see that Indian girls today are breaking these stereotypes. They’re living their lives on their terms and that makes me happy.
So, yeah, that was my life. And it still is. My brother is 15 now, and he still rubs it in my face how easy his life is (how can i not hate?). Being the oldest daughter in an Indian household shaped who I am today. If I weren’t the firstborn, I might have been different. But in an Indian household, it doesn’t matter which number you are—if you’re a girl, you’re going to have responsibilities. Being the oldest just added more to mine.
This literally made me cried. It's like you heard all the voice of my mind and wrote this (except the brother aspect) but everything else seemed as if we both talked about it to each other. Thankyou for giving the voice, the words. I felt understood. 😭
this is heartbreaking. im not indian, but i have lots of indian friends, and some of them, the mindset is still the same. even our teacher (all indian) are always like ''you have it better now, we used to get beaten up wuth sticks i had to go school 12 hours a day look at u " blah blah blah, and the parents are still in ''olden days'' because apparently ''old is gold'' and if they habd their kids a device they'll start becoming spoilt and ungrateful like... what. and wtf im so angry for you, you have every right to be angry at the people who made you feel like this. i kinf of know what you feel like, beecause a year ago or so i went back to my home ountry and everyone judged me for ''being too skinny'' and being ''too loud'' and ect ect.