As Told By Ada: It’s Weird With My Brother

As Told By Ada is a Culture Custodian original exploring the unique and often chaotic experience of navigating life as the oldest daughter in a Nigerian household. Over the course of these mini therapy sessions, we give you a peek into the ups, downs and lingering effects of growing up “the first.”

Growing up, a lot was expected of me. My parents, especially my mother, were very particular about the way I carried myself, the decisions I made — it was like they had a blueprint of the kind of person I was supposed to be. “Oldest daughter” was a big part of my identity, and it came with a lot of responsibility. There were many instances when it was assumed that I was “shunning” my “oldest daughter responsibilities” and they would chastise me. It was like my brother was learning how not to be from me. 

A lot of people used to say I was very “adult” for my age. I’m 25 years old now and I feel like I didn’t really get the chance to be a child. I made a lot of mistakes of course, but for the most part, I had to be very upright and put together. My brother was very upright generally, but that was his personality. He wasn’t forced to act like an adult and he also didn’t have to deal with the pressure that my parents put on me.

I feel like he doesn’t like me a lot of the time. He says when we were younger, he felt like I didn’t want to get to know him and I routinely asked him to leave me alone. Now that we’re older and I’m trying to be his friend, he’s genuinely confused.

He’s just like, “You didn’t have any interest in me when we were younger, so why now?”

In reality, it wasn’t him I didn’t want to be around, it was the responsibility of being an older sibling. 

I wanted to be my own person, but it was like I was permanently shackled to him and a lot of the time I got flack for stuff that he did. 

It was always; “Where were you when this was happening? Why weren’t you watching him?” But like, was it my fault? It wasn’t my fault! I’m only about three years older than him.

These days we’re okay, but a lot of our relationship is based on our obligations to each other. I think the reason why we are as close as we are now is because we don’t really have a choice—we only have each other. We love each other, and we care about each other deeply, but there’s always going to be that part of our relationship that I missed out on because I was a dickhead very early on. 

Instead of fighting him and my parents, I should have just fought my parents.

They spent so much time constructing their dream hyper-independent daughter, that they didn’t spend enough time instilling the same independence in my brother. 

When he first moved to England for school, he tried to book a train to go and visit his friend, and he booked the wrong train. I found out because my mother called me and told me to check on him. And I was just like, “Why not ask me for help? Or check Google?'”

He’s very smart, but for things as mundane as booking a train ticket or a flight, he just… I don’t know. He makes decisions like someone who has never had to do a lot of things on his own. There’s a very stark difference between us because of the way we were raised, which is funny because again, he’s generally a much more upright person.

I think the actual gravity of my situation as the oldest daughter dawned on me when we moved into our new house. My brother and I had separate rooms for the first time and I was really excited to have my own space. 

The night I was supposed to sleep in my own bed for the first time, my mother came into my room with my brother and said, “Let your brother sleep with you”.

I was just like “Why would I do that ?” 

She said, “Oh you know you’re his older sister, and he’s too scared to sleep alone. Just let him stay with you.” 

That boy slept in my room for about three years before he decided he wasn’t scared anymore. 

My parents didn’t offer their room, they offered mine for him to sleep in.

I rebelled every day. I was quite the problem child because I just could not accept the fact that these were my responsibilities. It made no sense to me.

My parents unknowingly taught me a lot of feminist ideals; that I could say no to things I didn’t want to do, and that I could ask questions. 

I would say things like; “Why do I always have to take care of my brother? Why can’t he take care of me?”

I demanded that he helped with chores, especially the ones he was capable of handling, like doing the dishes.

And my brother isn’t a dickhead — he was usually okay with helping me; it was my mother that had a problem with it.

The reaction my rebellion got usually ranged from yelling to beating to just pure bewilderment, depending on what I was rebelling against, but I kept doing it. I genuinely didn’t care.

I happen to be freshly orphaned, but when my dad was here, he and I had a very turbulent relationship. I mean, I love him, and we were definitely closer than I was to my mom. His expectations of me, while they annoyed me, were sort of similar to the expectations he had of my brother.

For my dad, it was just that he wanted us to do the best with the opportunities he had given us, and he emphasized that I had to work twice as hard as men because, obviously, I’m a woman.

My mother, on the other hand … I don’t think we really liked each other. She just felt like I wasn’t a good enough first daughter sometimes. She felt that I was selfish, and that I didn’t take enough care of my brother — which to her was my primary role.

She used to emotionally manipulate me a lot and make it seem like I was being disrespectful by putting myself first sometimes.

I didn’t appreciate that, and we used to get into a lot of arguments. I felt that she was way harder on me than she was on my brother. My dad also used to say the same thing. I love her as my mom, but the way we interacted with each other was a bit clinical. 

When she got sick, our relationship changed a bit, but I think that was because I played more of a caregiver role. She didn’t want to involve my brother with that at all, and it was very much like it was my cross to carry because I was the oldest daughter.

Towards the end of her life, she told me to take care of my brother, but she also told my brother to take care of me. I really appreciated that, and I wish that was something she emphasised throughout our childhood.

Most of the home-running has fallen to me now, and I don’t have a lot of black tax, but I have a reasonable amount of people I help out. Not because I’m obligated to help, but because I want to. 

I care for a few relatives, and I help out a lot of the house staff outside of employer obligations. My uncle would like me to care for a lot more people, but over my dead body. 

There’s only so much I’m willing to do at this point in my life, and I don’t think too much about it. My priority is my brother.  

Outside of him, I would say the most important people to me are my friends. I’m not exactly in a relationship, but I’m seeing someone right now and I’m just hoping it goes well because usually, in romantic relationships, I tend to opt for the most inconsiderate people. I don’t know how that is always the case, but I suspect it’s because I tolerate a lot more than I should . 

I’m able to mute my needs to manage the needs of other people and I tend to put their feelings over mine, even when they’ve done very awful things to me. I take on a caregiver role in most situations and I don’t know how to turn it off, even when it’s detrimental to me. 

My upbringing and childhood experiences definitely set me up for a lot of mental turmoil. I’m currently in therapy, so there’s that.

I don’t have kids and I don’t want any. If I were to have children though, they would all have the same amount of responsibility. The actions of one child wouldn’t reflect on all the children. I would let them all be their own person and give grace where grace is due, especially to the oldest child. 

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