I didn’t realise how toxic my dynamic as first-daughter was until I was sitting chatting with my friends about their own mothers. 

Since I have shared some of my journey with her, I know you won’t get me wrong – I can never fault my mom for the kind of love she has shown me because all she has ever known was hurtful love. She was born in 1976; she is the fourth of five children and the only daughter. My mom is tough, strict, and a woman of few words, but like most other black mothers, strong is a word that comes to mind when I think about her.

Surprisingly most of my female friends are also first-born daughters; we all shared so much similar lived experiences that my fears were confirmed that I indeed have unresolved trauma with my mother.

Black first-born daughter; the second mother…

In 2014 while preparing for my matric during sleepless nights of nappy changing and waking up to put a wailing 1-year-old to sleep, I knew that my childhood was over. It’s beyond just a new sibling taking your place as a child; it’s the dumped responsibility that you must take care of your younger siblings. Now at 25, I am mentally responsible for my sister, so much so that any decision I make to put myself first seems so selfish.

Black first-born daughter; the golden child…

My mother and I were both not raised by our parents, but by grandparents. I grew up in the Eastern Cape just like she did, and I only moved to Cape Town for better opportunities, just like she did. Generational trauma means I know how traumatic her childhood has been because I have worn and walked in my mother’s shoes from the day I was born. 

One thing about my mother, she never raised me to be someone’s wife; she actually was the opposite of the moms that want grandchildren and marriage from their kids. I was never supposed to like boys, to ask about relationships, or even ever mention I would like to have kids one day. Now that I am older I see why I have so many struggles with sex, intimacy, and relationships as a whole.

I remember a TikTok discussion about how black mothers see their children, specifically first-born daughters, as debts. We owe them the lives they never got to live because they had you, the career they never had, and any type of misery they feel as people, you must pay for it. That’s exactly how I always felt my mother felt about me. At least then I realised I was not alone.

Black first-born daughter’s road to healing

I have reached a point of acceptance; for my happiness, for my peace and even my life, I have to accept that’s what she has always felt. She till this day is walking with unresolved trauma that she is not aware of. I can only show her the kind of love she has never been shown and never shown me. I could never hate my mother because I have walked billion kilometres in her shoes.

Tell us: Are you a first daughter?