Musings on the Queer Lens of being an Eldest Daughter

I am my mother's daughter, though less girl than she'd like. Less silent than she'd like. Less pliant and cooperative than she'd like.

I'm not my mother, I'm a little less and a little more at the same time.

I see her when I look in the mirror, feel when I'm walking solo in the woods, hear her words and tone from my mouth when I speak to children.

I see her efforts when a bird flies by, and I don't flinch. She used to flinch, but trained it out of herself, and out of the bloodline.

She made me, and influenced every thought until I was five. But I'm not her same patriarchal corporate brand of Quiet Woman, Good Daughter, White Picket Fence Wife.

My mother lacks critical thinking skills. From her environmental impact to her impact on her children, to her mother's impact on her.

She envies me, she's said so many times. It feels like a guilt trip, like she wants me to do something. I don't know whether to lift her up or pull myself down to her.

I think she envies my queerness, when she's limited herself to being the White Picket Fence Wife. She envies the fact that I don't need her, because she needs her mother. She needed me, but I do not need her in return.

She desperately clings to my little brother, in hopes that he'll need her, but he's no daughter either.

To raise an eldest daughter in the same circumstances she was brainwashed in, only to have the child be more than she ever could...

I do not envy my mother's place.

Ah yes the awful feelings of both understanding and anger at ones mother that suddenly appears in your mind randomly on a tuesday and never leaves

No one and I repeat NO ONE will ever understand the significance of the lyrics “if you need to be mean, be mean to me” the way the eldest daughter of an immigrant household does.

something something about being a child and having to defend your parents from racist comments, despite you also barely speaking the language.

Ghar ki badi beti wala trauma<<<<<<

being the eldest daughter is like. i’ll care for my siblings until the end of the world. i’ll love them until time stops and even then i won’t stop. i hate our mother for turning me into this. i don’t have a mom, i’ve never had one. they never had a mom either. i wish i could love our mother and i wish we had a mom and i wish i could care. i wish i could tell you she loves us when you ask me. i’ll try to tell you next time but i’ll fail. i don’t think i can try anymore. i’ll come home when you call me and i’ll run back to the house to make sure you’re okay. you’ll tell me what happened and stay in my room for a few hours and we’ll talk. you ask me if she loves you. i don’t have an answer for you and i never do and i never will. i’ll keep it together until you have to go to sleep and when everyone’s asleep i’m going to cry my eyes out because i remember being 8 and an only child and it already being like that. i remember having to be my own parent at your age and i’m so glad i can be here for you but god i wish our parents could just be adults. i’m so tired but i’ll hug you till you feel better and i won’t tell you that you need to stop crying. i know it feels like i care for you more than our parents do and i’m sorry that i can’t fix it for you. you deserve to have real parents. i know i did too but it’s just too late for me now. i know you feel bad about how things turned out for me but i wish i could fix it all for you. i’m sorry for being your sibling and your parent and i’m sorry for the things i’ve done wrong and i know i shouldn’t have to be the parent and the adult but it’s always been like this and i’m so tired. i love you and i hope you feel safe talking to me about things. i love you so much and i’m sorry that i can’t do it all and i’m sorry i have a hard time telling you i love you and i’m sorry i can’t show affection and i’m sorry for the times i probably act a little like them. i love you and i always will and i hope you can forgive me for my mistakes and i am being my own parent and your parent and their parent and i’m so close to lying on the floor 24 hours a day for weeks on end and letting myself waste away

Ethnic Problems:

1. Spelling your name before you say it when you call for a doctor's appointment.

2. Being the eldest daughter and having to make those doctor's appointments pretending to be your mother while still being a minor yourself.

Peace be upon the daughter who helped her parents grow up. Accepted their cold shoulder, excused their anger, pardoned their mistakes, taught them how to be human. Peace be upon the sister who paid the price of rebellion. Screaming to her fullest, shaking like a leaf but standing tall, never letting the dictatorship go without a fight, paving the path for her siblings to breathe easier. Peace be upon the first child of an immigrant father. Aching to find their own purpose in life, firm in their own beliefs, contradicting generations and generations of cultural values. Peace be upon the girl who shouldered her mother's trauma. Swindled it into her own, morphed herself into an image of the womb she once resided in, immersed herself into troubles that weren't even hers, covered up scars that she couldn't even recognize. Peace be upon the woman who forgot who she was. So determined to be the savior of everyone, to fix her family, to nurture and love everyone around her. So deeply lost that she forgot she's just as worthy of love. Peace be upon you.

Parents really do traumatize you and then force you to reparent yourself instead of being a capable human being who can contribute to society like a normal person. Sorry I can't get a well paying job right now I'm trying to learn coping mechanisms.

god. the way kristen's parents lit up when she asked if she could go to church with them again makes me feel sick. the way they instantly softened and became so much more open and engaged. thinking about the cold way my mother treated me when she found out i told my friend i didn't think i believed in god anymore in high school in contrast with the way she treats me when i go to church with her and my little sister. the way the illusion was broken as soon as bucky wanted to look at the shards. what if i threw up!!

tgcf book spoilers, but one mu qing and xie lian snippet that I think about a lot is this one, at the start of xie lian’s second banishment when he’s surprised to hear mu qing being described as generous and kind:

as opposed to this memory from before his first ascension when mu qing started giving out cherries to the kids in the city:

I think it just really goes to show 1) how deeply mq’s actions truly affected xl and what he thought of him, but also 2) just how different mq and xl are fundamentally in the way that they think and approach things.

I don’t have a lot of commentary on xl that hasn’t already been said, but bc we get the story from xl’s pov, we see a lot of mq’s actions being framed as selfish or suspicious (which is fair, bc again, we know how much his actions hurt xl), but we also see a lot of misconstrued kindness, like in book 8 where it’s revealed that he knocked out fx in order to save him. it’s also pretty obvious how much mq still cares abt xl, with how quickly he volunteers as fu yao and the lengths he goes to protect him when he deems hc a threat, so I also think it’s very likely that mq leaving the trio first was exactly what he said it was — that he thought becoming a junior official, ascending quickly, would be the best way to take care of not just his mother, but also xl, fx, the king and queen, and himself, and so in a way, him leaving was him acting on his kindness. but ofc it doesn’t work out, and he spends the next 800 years fighting w/ fx about it, defending himself, his decisions, and his kindness, and nitpicking the accuracies of his statues while he himself remains completely misunderstood by the two people he probably cares abt the most.

and idk, I guess I just think that’s probably a really lonely way to spend 800 years.

Is your love language really acts of service or were you raised with the sole purpose of being a caregiver for all of eternity??

Maybe God is an older sister, an eldest daughter. Maybe God has found herself to be her father's daughter, righteous with misplaced anger. Perhaps God sees us as a younger brother -- naive and young, but happier than she ever was, and undoubtedly something to take care of. Do you think God hides from us the same way older sisters do -- finding it better & safer for us if she loves us from afar, for when she's around she can't help but lash out

"my mother" by lea jane

Like Father, Like Daughter

When I look into the cracked mirror, I see the remnants of you. I hate how my nose is exactly like yours. I hope I can get it fixed one day. Your sister once said I had your eyes. You don't know how much I wished I could gouge them out. But you don't exist only on my face. I can feel it in my bones, and oh, they're too heavy for a girl. I hear it in my voice, and I speak as if I'm you. I run away from my problems, just like how you did years ago. Sometimes, I pretend they don't exist. You knew how to do that so well. Who was it that said that I was too loud? Did they not know it was the only way we communicated? Each time I stand in front of this mirror, I realize that I've become terribly lonely. My father never knew how to love, and I, who always messes up, know that too well. And I hate it, I truly hate it. I'm not my father, I'm not my father, I'm not my father, I repeat. But like father, like daughter goes the proverb… right?

when they think they can hurt me, but i have an emotionally immature mum and an emotionally unavailable dad

being the eldest daughter also means hearing your mother tell your siblings that she wants to throw herself off the fifth floor balcony because they’re so annoying and bad. it means spending the next years trying to make your siblings forget it happened so they can be happy again. it means having the knowledge that your mother actually hates you but not saying it out loud, especially with your siblings around. it means hearing your mother say, “i hate you so much and i wish you were dead and i want to kill you with my own hands so you better be careful” growing up. it means growing up and screaming back at her for hours to make her be nicer to the siblings for a few weeks and to make her behave especially when you’re around. it means causing as much shit as possible when it’s just the two of you so she takes it all out on you so the younger ones don’t have to suffer later that day, that week, that month. making yourself the punching bag, but now that you’re older you can punch right back