Depending on who you ask, being the eldest daughter could be a blessing or a curse. For parents, having an eldest daughter is like having an extension of themselves, a third parent, if you may. But for these daughters, it’s a position that requires endless sacrifice and a death to self. It is on this backdrop that the film Monica takes centre stage.
The two-part film by Uche Montana (in which she plays the lead) takes the audience through the life of Monica, the eldest of three children, and the sacrifices she makes to ensure her family’s survival. From an early age, she’s forced to become a provider for her siblings’ sake, costing her a chance at education and economic freedom.
Despite the time and effort Monica pours into her family, there’s hardly any room for her to exercise autonomy until she ends up old, poor and utterly alone. Like Oliver Twist, her family members can’t get enough, and in turn, her goodwill is repaid with complete disdain. After many setbacks and a realisation of how much of her time has been wasted in dutiful service to her parasitic family, Monica finally finds peace and comfort in the understanding that sometimes the best thing one can do is to choose oneself and support one’s kin from a safe distance.
While the creative direction and other aspects of the film require a different level of critique, overall, the story arc elicits powerful emotions in the viewer. For starters, the film feels like 4 hours of suffering Olympics, where the protagonist is the only competitor. It isn’t out of pocket to feel upset about Monica’s docile reaction to the unfair treatment meted out against her. It’s easy to call her stupid for showing up whenever her family members needed help. Yet, one heaves a sigh of relief when she cuts them off and pursues her dreams.
For those who cannot relate to the burdens of being the eldest daughter, their reactions query a culture where girls and women are conscripted into a lifetime of caregiving at their own detriment.
“I understand everything that happened in the film; the difference is that I am loved at home like mad, my siblings are appreciative too, and we have a good relationship. I can always say no to demands, and my parents didn’t sacrifice my future for that of my siblings at all.” – Precious
“Monica is really sad because it is someone’s reality. As a first daughter, I hate the whole bs that comes with it. While I think Monica is a fool, I’ll extend grace to the character. First daughters enable this entitlement by allowing family members to play in their faces. I see people on TikTok making jokes about their sister always being angry or first daughters complaining about having to worry all the time, and it pisses me off because their families won’t do half the shit they do.” – Ini
“This is not victim blaming, but I think Monica was stupid. While I was watching the film, I kept wondering at what point she would stand up for herself. Monica’s mom was terrible, and it was evident that her family didn’t like her. Then I thought about it again and realised that there’s a certain way one is raised that makes one seek constant validation from family, so I guess that was it. However, I don’t think the film was realistic, in my opinion, because I believe that first daughter trauma is just performative and first daughters need to calm down about the family trauma that they always claim to carry.” – Lumi
Still, the movie makes the eldest daughters feel seen.
“For me, Monica feels like a mirror showing the unspoken trauma that eldest daughters pass through in a family. She was raised with the ideology that, as an Ada, she was expected to take on responsibilities for the family. I know that this doesn’t happen only in Igbo land but everywhere else. As the first daughter, any time I complain about the burden at home, I am told I’m expected to do everything as the firstborn. It is annoying to put everyone first while constantly depriving yourself of even your most basic needs. In all, what I gained was that self-love is not selfish. Firstborns need to put themselves first because the family will survive whether you are there or not. What I don’t understand is the urge to always provide or support your family members, even when you determine to choose yourself; I don’t know if it’s a mental illness or something.” – Becky
Parentification happens when a child assumes the responsibilities of a parent or caregiver before they are physically and emotionally ready. In many African cultures, children in this position are given names that place them as the “man of the house” or a “second/assistant mother”.
Children can be parentified emotionally or instrumentally. Emotional parentification manifests when children become confidants or mentors who offer advice, make big decisions, keep secrets, and mediate disagreements in a household. This consequently makes them prioritise the feelings and emotions of others over their own, leading to emotional repression and other related mental health conditions.
With instrumental parentification, kids are tasked with the burden of cooking, cleaning, paying bills, grocery runs, babysitting, and eldercare — this is where black tax comes in. Many of the tasks mentioned are some of the duties of children in the family, but when it becomes the child’s sole responsibility and they’re made to believe that the family structure will fall apart without their input, then it is problematic.
The cultural demands placed on eldest children to nurture, supervise and support the family expect them to think and behave like adults whilst limiting them to the autonomy reserved for kids. This confusing dynamic churns out grown-ups who are constantly stressed, with an overwhelming need to please and a desire to “fix” everything.
Even though this phenomenon originates in the family unit, parentification can occur in other spheres of life. Many parentified children often end up in workplaces or romantic relationships where they form healthy attachments and are manipulated into believing that the other party cannot survive without their care.
Like Monica, first daughters in Nigeria are usually parentified from an early age; a behaviour strongly rooted in patriarchal traditions. You are expected to lead and be a good example to your siblings, yet you are relegated to the background when it’s time for your efforts to be recognised. As the eldest daughter, you are told that your duty is to uphold and contribute to the family, but your younger brother has more say or value when it comes to the issues that truly matter. You manage your parents and raise their offspring without any manual, only to share in the parental blame when things go awry.
Recognising that you have been parentified is the first step towards being truly free. This acceptance may not come with an apology from your parents — expect a denial, if we’re being honest. Healing will start when you recalibrate your emotions and relationships. Teach yourself to receive help and support without offering something in return. Take your needs and emotions off the back burner and set healthy boundaries in your relationships. Stop striving for perfectionism and reconnect with your inner child instead. Put yourself first; sometimes the best answer to a rant or request for help is “uninvolve me”. In extreme cases, severing ties with your family may be the only way forward.
Not all eldest daughters are parentified, but many parentified children come from that demographic. Fully understanding the role of parents and children in a family and finding a balance will go a long way. As parentified daughters grow into mothers, the goal should be to break the cycle and raise responsible kids, not parentified ones.
