Reflections on Being an Immigrant First Daughter
Many of the oldest daughters in immigrant families or POC families have vocalized the crucial role they play in their family dynamic. The ability to balance parents and siblings, whether it’s through raising younger siblings or other duties usually suited for adults, is an extremely difficult but essential task. Being the first child also comes with expectations, expectations to make your family proud and to be the living proof that your parents’ efforts weren’t wasted in moving to a completely different country to provide their kids with a better life. The mixture of feeling gratitude but also immense responsibility is a signature feeling that most every immigrant or POC first child has felt. I have personally felt this combination of feelings, what I call immigrant-first-daughter syndrome, way too many times throughout my life. At first, in high school, I resented the role I was given more days than not. Why must I constantly meet expectations that seem to get higher before I can even reach them? Why must I be perfect all the time? Why do I have to care? Of course, these thoughts are mixed with teenage hormonal angst, but the overwhelming feeling of never feeling good enough was always there. Getting straight As were a given - it simply did not NOT happen. I had to prioritize my future over everything else because that is what my parents worked so hard for. My role as an immigrant first daughter during this period of my life was defined by my ability to keep up, to show that I was getting those traditional academic achievements that are so prioritized in Korean culture.
When I was applying to colleges, I was overwhelmingly only introduced to ivy league schools by my parents, mostly because those were the only schools they had heard of when they lived in Korea. Classmates at my high school used to joke about me going to Harvard, mostly because, I imagine, I fit the typical Asian stereotype of going to Harvard. And when I neither applied to Harvard nor got into any ivy league schools, I felt as though I disappointed both my classmates for not living up to that stereotype and my parents for not living up to immigrant ideals. As a first child, I felt embarrassed that I couldn’t meet expectations of my very own classmates and in turn couldn’t show my family that we were truly integrated into the American life. Of course, these were mostly thoughts that I put into my own head, and probably were not the intention of others in their expectations of me, but it was real to me just the same. I was so angry that I could not meet the presumptions of others and also angry that I let those presumptions overshadow any expectations I held for myself.
When I eventually did started college at UVA, maybe a couple years in, I began to get frustrated again. I subconsciously thought that moving to a new place would alleviate those internal and external expectations set before me, but I realized that they had only changed faces, not disappeared altogether. As my younger sister was growing up and beginning to deal with their own teenage issues, as my parents struggled balancing work and raising my youngest brother, as I was trying to find my own purpose throughout life, I found myself caught in the middle of this hurricane. Checking on my younger sister while also trying to make my parents see eye to eye on certain topics was a mountain that I couldn’t reach the top of; even worse, I was hundreds of miles away from that mountain trying to still get good grades, join good extracurriculars, and figure out why I wanted to even become a doctor. The guilt I felt for being so far yet also angry because I wanted to focus on my own goals trapped me. And yet I still had to make sure I was on the right path to make my family proud, to make others proud of my family. It quite literally had turned into Mulan (even though I resented many people who would compare me to her just because of my race).
Few years later, I still struggle with these feelings. But I’ve learned to accept my role rather than spend the rest of my years begrudging it. Because, in the end, I am so lucky that I get to be there for my sister and brother. I am so lucky to have two parents that care about me so much that they have such high expectations rather than none at all. But I’ve also learned that setting my own boundaries is key. Whatever I plan to do or are doing in this world, I don’t do it out of the fear that if I don’t, I won’t make my family proud. I do it because I find value in whatever it is and because it makes me feel happiness and joy, without feeling guilty that I can feel such feelings. If I feel as though I am letting my family’s expectations get the better of me, I ground myself by talking to trusted friends that can give me the guidance and reassurance that I need. Of course, this is all easy to say in theory; putting it into practice can be very difficult, but practice can almost make perfect. A few years ago, I did not even have a single vision on how my role as an immigrant first daughter could be more than making me feel trapped. Now, I feel purposeful.
I know that other immigrant first daughters can relate, whether it’s to only one thing I pointed out or many things, but wherever you are on the spectrum, know that it does not have to feel like a curse. You are everything you will ever need and want.
