What about me?

Who am I in the maze of labels that society has given me? What about me? Who am I, outside the labeling? These are simple, important and sincere questions which in today’s world might be perceived as a self-serving, selfish and irrelevant.

I was daughter first, a first child. Then I became a sister and a sibling. Soon, at school I became a friend. In my late teens I became a girlfriend, followed by motherhood and then became a wife.

Daughter, sister, friend, girlfriend, mother and wife are all social constructs, labels that identify us within a group but most importantly, the labels are given to “guide” us on navigating societal desired behavior at any point in time.

First born. Yes. But I did not choose to be the eldest, yet there has always been an unwritten code of conduct, an overflowing manual of how I am supposed to behave. Why? Because, if you do not show the way, the right way, those who come after you, because of your first born status, will follow your ways good and bad. Really? They will follow my ways and not the parents’ ways. Seriously? When did being first born equaled a familys’ best practice? I thought everyone is born with their very own independent mind with the Creators’ given ability to make informed choices.

This responsibility of “leading the way” is burdensome, tiresome and a heavy load to carry. The conversations are veiled. The remarks are deliberate. The announcements are loud. “You are the eldest, you must be a good example. First born leads the way.” But, quietly I ask, why, because I did not sign up for this. If there was a memo that was sent, the email probably dumped it in the spam folder.

Every child is born into a different family. When I was born, my mental model of “family” were two adults, trying as best as they could, often experimenting to be good parents (because they do not teach you anywhere to be a parent, never mind a good one.) When another child was born, a girl, her mental model of “family” were two parents and a child, who more or less looked like her but just slightly bigger and older.

The second child has to find her own space and voice within this set up. For a first child, at least for me, it did not affect my mental model of “family”. I was told and just accepted that there would be others, AND I would be responsible for them.

For the second child and the rest, the messages are also crystal clear - you must look up to your BIG sister for cues on  “how we do things around here…” So when did I become BIG and where did I learn the cues?

In all our societal given roles, we are expected to behave in particular ways, roles that we were never been taught specific actions and behaviors. Because of this, I was the most smacked child within my family. I resorted to making up the rules as I went along. I created my own rules as a sibling, friend, girlfriend, mother and wife - my own rules and not societies’ rules. Oft times, my rules of coping with society and living my life, have been at variance with those expected from me by my family and society. Short of calling me a deviant, they have often resorted to creating new labels in order to justify to their discomfort, for example, a rebel without a cause, etcetera.

Out of all the labels, the one I have found most uncomfortable is motherhood. It is a blessing but way too overrated. Just because you have a womb and can give birth does not make you a “natural” mother. I love everyone I gave birth to, but many children I have encountered, including my own, do not realize that inside my body, is a person, young at heart with their own mind of “how we should be doing things around here!” And in that space, my space, we are sharing with you my children, when you are home, I am the solution. When I am the solution, for that moment in time, democracy takes a back seat. I have since come to the conclusion that children are at their best, bare foot, with tops off, wearing just hand - washed, ill - fitting, one hundred percent cotton nappies, with thick mucus coming out of their nose, crying for you to pick them up and completely unable to utter a single word!

The truth is, all of the labels, daughter, sister, sibling, girlfriend, wife and mother bother me. They pigeonhole the more in me.

So what about me? What about the person that resides inside the matter you refer to as daughter, sister, girlfriend, mother and wife? Why do families and society at large scoff at engaging the real you, the real McCoy? Why do families and society create their own image of you and then proceed to interact and engage with that figment of their fertile imagination.

I am still standing, always refusing to have the committee of three; me, myself and I, sidelined, in preference for my mirage, an illusion, a mask, fully formed in their own heads.

I stand here triumphantly over the remains of the fallen, who became despondent and weary and eventually ejected their own limb and life from this twisted space, because, they could not bear to be passed over and completely ignored whilst their substitutes, the non-existent but very much alive social constructs of themselves, affirmed.